Page 12 of The Phantom Duke
There was something in that single word that silenced Maria. She found her eyes locked on the duke’s.
What is he hiding behind that mask?
“The scenario you described is a dire one. I must leave now to prevent it from coming to pass.”
She leaned on the stick and took a hesitant step. It was painful, but she could nearly support her own weight with the aid of the cane.
“It has already come to pass. There is only one way that you might avoid scandal,” the duke said.
She had reached the door. Pale daylight bathed her. Through a window opposite she could see a garden that was hardly worthy of the name. Vegetation ran amuck, contained within tall, dark walls. The spires of stone and smoke that were London were visible beyond that wall. The living world.
She looked back, wobbling on the stick. The duke stood just beyond the shaft of light. From the half of his face that was visible, she could tell that he was handsome, but it was a beauty steeped in a coldness that would make a mountain top seem balmy. He was granite encased in ice.
He resembles a buccaneer from the Spanish Main. A cutlass at his belt and a knife between his teeth would complete the image.
“And what is that?” she asked.
“Marriage.”
The notion was so absurd that Maria laughed, the sound exploding from her.
“I beg your pardon?”
The duke stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as the light fell upon him.
Maria stared into his eyes, attracted and fearful at the same time.
Perhaps he is a sorcerer.
“It will spare your name and civilize mine by association. And, as my wife, you can be a far more effective patron of your orphanage than you can as the daughter of an earl.”
“There is only one answer I can give,” Maria whispered, her voice quieting as he closed the distance. So near that she felt his breath on her neck, making her spine tingle.
There was a quality about him that made her do that. Her knees trembled at his nearness, and her stomach clenched. She could feel the fluttering of her pulse in the hollow of her throat, and a warmth seemed to emanate from the depths of her womanhood.
She took a deep breath, refusing to let him see her gasp. He was closer, his eyes magnetic. His entire body drew her as though some primitive and arcane enchantment was at work. Her awareness of the house and the other person present faded away. They might have stood in a black void, alone in an infinity of shadows.
As she looked up at him, the thought entered her mind that it would be very easy for him to steal a kiss. That she wanted him to do it. She licked her lips before she knew what she was doing, feeling as though she were sleepwalking. Her lips parted, and her body cried out for that powerful, undeniable force before her to claim her for his own.
“I thank you for your aid,” she managed to say, “both for myself and the Willow Street Orphanage. And for the compliment of your offer. I must decline. I hope you understand.”
The duke did not look away. He stepped closer again. She could smell him. A hint of spice tempered with wood and tobacco. A musk that was far from unpleasant and made her think of wilderness and tempests.
“I do,” he said. “I wish you luck. Your society can be cruel.”
CHAPTER 5
“You have gone too far, Damien!” Simon said angrily.
Damien laughed. “You are too timid, Simon.”
Maria had left the house, and Simon had just returned from his mission of mercy to the orphanage. He had found Damien walking in the woods to the south of his house, striding through undergrowth with a cane of ash that was almost a quarterstaff.
“Too timid to demand marriage from a girl assaulted by ruffians and injured to boot. That is not how gentlemen are supposed to behave!”
“But then, as the world believes, I am not a gentleman,” Damien said, amused. “I am the Phantom. An uncouth and frightening devil. And the daughter of Sunspire clearly believes so.”
“But why do it at all?” Simon asked. “Will you stop striding for just a minute? I cannot cut through this damnable jungle as well as you. God, for a decent lawn and a rose garden!”
