Page 2 of The Duchess Trap
“Nor did I.” His jaw tightened, though his tone remained deceptively even. “Which leads me to wonder once more whose clever little plot it was.”
She drew a deep breath. He thought she or someone she held dear was capable of such calculation. The nerve—no, the sheer gall of it!
“If you imagine me desperate enough to trap you, Your Grace,” she scoffed, “then you have gravely mistaken my character.”
“Desperation,” he said softly, “can make even the most virtuous act rashly.”
Her pulse thrummed. “If I am desperate, it is only to escape your company.”
He chuckled under his breath, a low sound that coiled through her stomach. “Ah, but your breathing betrays you.”
Catherine’s fingers flexed inside her gloves as she tried to squelch the heat rising beneath her skin. “You presume far too much, Your Grace.”
“I have been told,” he said evenly.
“By every woman foolish enough to cross your path, I imagine.”
His mouth curved faintly. “And yet I do not recall your name among them, Miss Terrell.”
Her chin lifted, though her pulse faltered. “Nor should you. We have never been properly introduced.”
“No,” he said quietly. “Though I’ve heard of you.”
“As I have of you,” she replied, her voice soft but edged with caution. “Your reputation precedes you, Your Grace.”
His brow arched. “And yours, it seems, is one of charity. Is it not?”
The mention of it made her throat tighten. “It isn’t charity,” she said, barely above a whisper. “I support a specific cause.”
“An admirable one,” he murmured, though something in his tone suggested acceptance rather than contempt. “Still, I doubt your charitable duties extend to locked rooms.”
Her eyes flashed. “I have no idea what you might be alluding to, but I can assure you that there has been some terrible mistake. I only came to this room because a footman said someone wished to speak with me on an urgent matter. I had no notion of finding you here.”
He frowned, a small line forming between his brows. “Curious. I received the same message: that a lady required my immediate attention.”
Their eyes met, wary now rather than furious. The realization hung between them, unwelcome and absurd.
“Then we have been tricked,” she said softly.
“Or tested,” he replied. “Though by whom, I cannot say.”
The silence between them was wrought with dissatisfaction. She could see that the Duke was annoyed, and she felt hardly less agitated. Someone had not only led them both astray but had heaped a mound of inconvenience at their feet.
How will we ever get out of here? How will I explain this precarious situation once we are rescued? No one will ever believe that I spent a quarter of an hour behind a locked door with the roguish Duke of Raynsford, yet managed to leave with my dignity intact.
The Duke touched the tip of his forefinger to his bottom lip and stroked the spot in a pensive gesture. “What I wish to know iswho is the responsible party? Who is to blame for our current vexation?”
“If you must assign blame, Your Grace, I suggest you begin with whoever sent you here. My only fault is having followed a summons I believed to be genuine.”
“Convenient,” he said, a shadow of amusement in his voice. “And yet here we are, alone.”
“Through no fault of mine.”
“No?” His eyes narrowed. “Then perhaps your accomplice will confess in your stead.”
“Accomplice?” Her indignation flared, heat rising to her cheeks. “You cannot truly believe I conspired to lure you here.”
“I believe very little without evidence,” he said smoothly. “But the circumstance is… suggestive.”
