Page 12 of Lusting for the Duke's Kiss
Henrietta raised her chin, staring at him. Those beautiful blue eyes were as cold as ice.
“Your Grace, is it?” she hissed. “Funny, I thought your name was Mr Vincent Cassidy. At least, that is what I recall when we met so briefly all those years ago.”
He smiled weakly, his heart pounding. “It was just a joke, for the night,” he said, swallowing a lump in his throat. “So that I would not attract undue attention …”
“Really?” she said, her voice curt. She turned to her father. “I have said all that I will say on the matter. And now, you must all excuse me. I find that I have a headache coming on.”
“Hetty,” warned her father, but it was too late. She swept out of the room, brushing past Louis without even looking at him.
There was an awkward silence in the room.
“Give her time,” said Mr Arnold, turning to him. “She is very hurt, Your Grace. But I am fully convinced that we can make her see that this is the way forward for her …”
Louis’s heart flipped over in his chest. He had waited so long for her. But this had not been the promising beginning that he had hoped for at all.
She was so very hurt, as her father said. It would be hard to build her trust. Especially because he had deluded her as to who he truly was.
Damn that silly game, he thought fiercely.It might just ruin everything.
Chapter 6
Hetty was almost to her room when she felt a hand on her arm, spinning her around. She was staring into the face of the man again. Louis Montague, the Duke of Warwick. The man that she remembered as Vincent Cassidy.
She couldn’t stop the tremble that suddenly swept through her body at their close proximity. Her mouth went dry. Oh, she remembered him, alright. The tall, handsome dark-haired stranger, who had asked her to dance at the Farnham’s ball all those years ago. She still recalled those penetrating green eyes that had seemed to reach into her very soul.
He was older now, of course. A slight smattering of grey, along his hairline, looking like streaks of silver in the raven darkness. When he smiled, there were more creases around his eyes. But he was still the most devastatingly handsome man she had ever laid eyes upon.
She had only been one and twenty at the time. The engagement with Frank was at least a year away. They had shared one dance before her good friend, Annabelle, had approached her, claiming that she was sick, and they had to leave at once.
The handsome stranger had been busy talking with people, and Annabelle had been insistent, pale and sweating. She’d had no choice but to leave, guiding her friend to the carriage. As she was staying the night at Annabelle’s estate, there wasn’t even the option to go back and see him again.
It had only been a brief moment, and they had barely spoken. For months afterwards, she had looked eagerly into crowds whenever she had been socialising. He was never there. The disappointment was sour, but it was the way it was. She recalled he had told her he was from Hampshire. Perhaps his visit to Wiltshire was a one-off. And what did it matter, anyway? It wasn’t as if she knew a thing about what kind of man he was.
And so, she had forgotten all about him. At least, she thought she had. But on those strange nights, when she sometimes woke up with a peculiar yearning, it was his green eyes that she saw in the darkness.
And now, here he was, materialising out of the ether, like a bizarre phantom, offering for her hand in marriage. It was all so very strange and shocking that she could not make head nor tail of it.
He had laughed off his lie about who he was, claiming it was just a joke for the night. But she knew nothing about him. And she was sick to death of being lied to by men. How could she trust a single word that came out of his mouth?
“Your Grace,” she said through gritted teeth. “I thought that I was clear in saying that I have a headache …”
“Please,” he said, staring down at her imploringly. “I know that we got off to a bad start. I had forgotten that I had introduced myself as someone different, all those years ago. I do not usually do that kind of thing, and I do not know what possessed me to do such a thingthen …”
She took a deep breath, still trembling, trying to fight the feelings that were rising in her. The feelings that he was provoking by being so close to her.
“Your Grace,” she said slowly. “I am flattered, of course, that you remember me from such a brief encounter, and have offered for my hand.” She paused. “But you must realise that even if I wanted to accept it, I cannot. I am a legally married woman. An abandoned married woman, but still married. How can you believe that it could ever change?”
He didn’t answer for a moment. He just kept gazing down at her, his green eyes magnetically drawing her in. Her heart was racing now. She shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, desperate to get away from him.
“I know your circumstances,” he said eventually, in a quiet voice. “All I am asking is for a chance. It may be possible to free you from the marriage that you are in. It is remote, but not unheard of. Would you be willing to try?”
She stared at him, so astonished that he was still pursuing this, that she simply could not think of a thing to say.
He took a deep breath. “Your father has said that I can stay here fora few days so that we can get to know each other better.” He paused. “I am not asking you to make a decision, right at this moment. But will you at least think about it?”
She looked down at the ground. Her heart was racing so fast she could barely breathe. She needed to get away from him before he saw what he was doing to her. She hastily stepped back.
“I will think about it,” she stammered. “But now, I must lie down …”
