Page 13 of The Duke's Accidental Wallflower
Evan could see the tension in Minerva’s posture, the rigid set of her shoulders, the way her jaw tightened as if she were holding back a retort that would likely be unfit for polite conversation. He leaned against the shelves, crossing his arms leisurely as if he had all the time in the world.
“You know,” he began, his voice laced with amusement, “if you get this worked up over gloves, I’d be delighted to see how you handle other pressing matters.”
Her lips thinned into a tight line, her grip on the gloves in her hand tightening even further. “I assure you, Your Grace, I am not in the least ‘worked up’. If anything, it isyouwho seems far too interested in something as trivial as my shopping.”
He chuckled softly, tilting his head as he regarded her. “Oh, I am not interested in your shopping, Lady Minerva. I am simply fascinated by you.”
Minerva’s cheeks flamed even more, her eyes narrowing. “Well, stop being fascinated and leave me alone.”
“Now, why would I do that?” he replied, his tone playful. “You are far too entertaining when you are pretending I do not affect you.”
Her breath hitched, and for a moment, Evan thought she might actually lose her composure entirely. But instead, she glared at him, her chin lifting in that familiar defiant way that both infuriated and intrigued him.
“I am not pretending anything,” she bit out, her voice shaking slightly, though she quickly regained her poise. “And I refuse to engage in whatever game you think this is.”
Evan’s grin only grew. “You already are, my lady. Whether you want to admit it or not.”
Minerva’s nostrils flared as she glared up at him, her fists tightening at her sides. “I will not be your entertainment, Your Grace,” she hissed, her voice sharp and brimming with barely contained anger.
He shrugged, unfazed. “Then stop making it so easy.”
That was the last straw.
Without another word, Minerva turned on her heel, her skirts swishing around her ankles as she stormed toward the door. Evan watched, amused, as she yanked it open, the bell above it chiming loudly in protest at the force.
As the bell chimed softly behind her, Evan remained rooted to the spot, staring after her retreating form. He should let her go. That much was obvious. Yet, he found himself unable to move, his thoughts a chaotic tangle of amusement and something far more unsettling.
Just as her hand touched the handle of the carriage outside, she froze. A look of realization crossed her face, and Evan could almost see the exact moment she remembered something crucial. Slowly, she turned, her cheeks flushing anew as she glanced back toward the shop.
Evan leaned casually against the doorframe, his smirk firmly in place as he watched her pause outside. She stood there, her hand still on the carriage handle, her back stiff with indignation. For a fleeting moment, he thought she might just leave the chaperone behind, but Minerva was far too proper for that.
Sure enough, she turned, her movements sharp and deliberate as though each step was an act of defiance. Evan’s grin widened as he straightened, crossing his arms as he waited for her to re-enter.
“Ah, back so soon?” he drawled as she stepped inside, her cheeks flushed and her expression thunderous. “Couldn’t bear to part ways so quickly?”
The look she shot him could have frozen a lesser man. “Do not test me, Your Grace,” she snapped. “I am in no mood for your games.”
Evan chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the way her composure cracked ever so slightly. ““Leave something behind?” he drawled, his voice rich with amusement.
Minerva shot him a withering look, her frustration barely contained. “I forgot Mrs. Hughes,” she muttered, her tone clipped. “I cannot leave without her.”
Evan’s grin widened. “How very responsible of you.”
Her lips thinned, but she said nothing more as she stepped back into the shop, her every movement stiff with annoyance. As much as she tried to maintain her dignity, Evan could see the flush deepening in her cheeks as she searched for the elderly chaperone she had clearly forgotten in her haste to leave.
She did not look back as she marched out into the street, her head held high despite the obvious tension radiating from her entire body. Evan watched her go, the smirk still playing on his lips as he leaned back against the shelves, arms crossed.
“Well,” he muttered to himself, “that was certainly... something.”
He did not know why he found her so intriguing, why getting under her skin had become so tempting. But watching her fluster and fume was quickly becoming one of his favorite pastimes. And, whether she liked it or not, he had no intention of leaving her alone just yet.
The gloves that Minerva had intended to purchase lay discarded on a shelf. With a smirk, Evan picked them up and turned to the store clerk.
“Put these on my account, would you?”
Six
“‘But what is the rogue’s true purpose?’” Cherie read from the latest gossip sheet. “‘Those who have tracked Mr. H—’s exploits note his recent gaming losses and debts. Is it mere coincidence that Lady W— has inherited not only her late husband’s townhouse but also his considerable investments? Cynics suggest Mr. H— aims to snare not only a widow’s heart but her purse strings as well. Others, however, whisper that Lady W— may not be as innocent in this game of intrigue as she appears…’”
