Page 6 of The Duke's Accidental Wallflower
In contrast, Evan remained calm and collected, leaning against the door of the closet as though they had all the time in the world. He tilted his head, regarding her with a curious look. “Are you always this wound up?” he asked, his voice laced with mild amusement.
Minerva shot him a glare that could have scorched the sun, but there was something frantic in her gaze, something that told himshe was on the verge of losing control completely. Her breathing had grown uneven, her chest rising and falling rapidly as if she were fighting for air. She wasn’t just upset—she was in the throes of full-blown anxiety.
“You risk drawing attention with such commotion,” he whispered, his voice low but firm. She barely seemed to register his words, her fingers now trembling slightly as she held her arms around herself.I need to distract her, fast, or she will shriek and undo us both.Evan watched her for another moment, calculating, then smirked, leaning in just enough to ensure she could hear him clearly.
“Is it really as life-ending as you think?” he asked, his tone light, almost playful. “If your sister, or perhapsyoufor that matter, were to share a kiss?”
Minerva froze, her breath hitching audibly. For a split second, her wide eyes locked onto his, and Evan saw the fire return to them—if only for a moment. Her anxiety seemed to pause, suspended between her initial panic and this new, scandalous notion he’d just planted.
She opened her mouth, clearly ready to retort, but the words did not come right away. Instead, she took a deep, shaky breath. “That—” she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper, “is entirely inappropriate.”
Evan shrugged, entirely unbothered by her disapproval. “Inappropriate? Perhaps. But hardly life-ending. Unless, of course, you are one to get worked up over nothing.”
Her cheeks flushed, a deep shade of crimson that even the dim light of the closet couldn’t hide. “You are impossible,” she muttered under her breath, though her panic seemed to ease just a fraction, replaced now by irritation—something far easier for her to manage.
Evan smirked again, satisfied that he had successfully redirected her anxiety. “Impossible? I have been called worse.”
The corner of her mouth twitched, though she quickly pressed her lips together as if refusing to let herself react to his teasing.
But Evan could sense that her mind had shifted away from the potential disaster outside the closet and onto the man standing right in front of her. It was, admittedly, where he preferred her attention. With the threat of actual ruination and scandal nearly gone, Evan began to wonder if there could be an unseen benefit to this whole fiasco. Perhaps all Minerva needed to calm down was a kiss of her own.
Three
Minerva stood frozen in the dark, the closeness of the cramped closet suffocating her. The faint scent of old books mixed with the distinct warmth of leather and sandalwood from the man in front of her—the Duke of Colburn. His presence was overwhelming, far too close, and every breath she took was filled with him. Her heart pounded in her chest as the sound of the men’s voices outside grew faint.
They’re leaving,she thought, straining to hear the last of their footsteps. Relief flooded her, but it was quickly overshadowed by the sharp realization of where she was—and with whom. She needed to get out of this tiny space, away fromhim, before this situation spiraled further out of control.
“Finally!”
She reached for the doorknob of the closet door, ready to bolt. Her heart could hardly take the tension any longer, not justfrom the discomfort of their proximity but from something else entirely—something she refused to acknowledge.
But the duke stayed her hand.
“I need to leave,” she whispered in protest, her voice edged with irritation. Her breath was shallow, her chest tight, as if the very air in the room had become too thin.
Evan’s voice cut through the darkness, low and dangerously smooth. “Why rush off so soon?”
Minerva tensed, scandalized by the insinuation in his tone. She turned her head toward him, though she could barely make out his face in the dim light filtering through the cracks in the door. “’Why rush off?’” she repeated, incredulous. “I need to get as far away from you as possible.”
His lips curled into that maddening smirk, and though she couldn’t see it clearly, she felt it. “Do you now?” he asked, taking a step closer, his voice a teasing whisper. “Surely you must be curious...”
Minerva’s breath caught in her throat as the space between them narrowed. She pressed back against the shelves instinctively, trying to put distance between them, but there was nowhere to go. The solid wood pressed against her back, cold and unyielding, while the heat from his body radiated against her front, far too close for propriety.
“Curious?” she managed to say, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to remain composed. “Curious about what?”
He stepped even closer, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. “About what all the fuss is about,” he whispered, his tone laced with suggestion. “A kiss. Surely you have wondered...”
Minerva’s heart hammered wildly in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps. His words wrapped around her, far too intimate for a man she should despise. This waswrong, utterly and completely wrong. And yet...
She swallowed hard, her body betraying her as a shiver ran down her spine. “I have no interest in such things,” she said sharply, but the words rang hollow in the tiny space, more of a defense than the truth.
Evan tilted his head slightly, as if considering her answer. “No interest?” he mused softly, his tone clearly disbelieving. “You, Lady Minerva, who would throw yourself into a situation like this to save your sister, but have never once wondered about the thrill of it yourself?”
His words sent a strange, unsettling warmth through her, and Minerva found herself struggling to think clearly. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, her knuckles brushing the cold wood of the shelves. “What I do—or do not—wonder about is none of your concern,” she snapped, trying to gather what remained of her dignity.
But Evan did not seem fazed by her retort. If anything, it only encouraged him. He took another half-step closer, his hand resting casually against the shelf beside her head. The movement brought them almost nose to nose, and Minerva felt her pulse spike as their proximity made her acutely aware of every small movement he made, every slight shift in the air between them.
“You know, you have the wrong idea about me,” he murmured, his voice low, as though they were sharing a secret. “You think I am a scoundrel, a rake. But what if I am not as bad as you believe?”
