Page 6 of A Winter with the Rakish Duke

“Come now, woman. You’re only making this harder on yourself!” a gravelly voice spoke out.

But Eloise didn’t slow down for a breath, instead ducking into the closest room she could find and praying James would not think to do the same.Then, dragging herself across to an entryway on the other side of the room, she soon found herself lost in its maze. Now, she cursed under her breath for not seeking refuge in the great hall among the rest of the guests instead.

A waft of fresh breeze reached her skin, and Eloise made haste in its direction. She ran faster, tears now trailing her cheeks in silence. She was unsure if it was the anger or the sadness of the betrayal, but her emotions were aching to spill out as soon as she could be alone.

A ray of cool light shimmered between a large set of curtains, covering a window of sorts, and the creaking of floorboards nearby forced her hand. She dashed towards and then slipped behind the curtains, pushing her back against the window until it fell open. It was only then Eloise realized she had accidentally stumbled upon the door to the verandah. And so, without thought, she hurried outside, only looking back once she was sure she’d lost him.

In her sudden rush, her foot made contact with a sturdy stone on the ground, sending her to her fall. She remained there, on a patch of wet grass, a terrible pain pulsating through her leg. And emotions now consuming her.

“I’m such a fool,” she cried to herself, struggling to stand up again.

And truthfully, she was. James had lied to her, made empty promises, and she had believed him—just like a foolish person would. How could she have ever expected to lead a normal, happy life like Kate or Felicity, as an unbelonging orphan? And James, he was the same as most—if not all—the Lords. A rake. A shameless, dangerous rake…

“Now that is an unexpected sight,” a strange voice spoke out, “I’m not used to Ladies literally falling to my feet. Usually, it’s more…metaphorical, I suppose.”

Eloise looked up to find a distinctly dressed man donning a black mask garnished with dark gems. And then to the hand he was offering her. She didn’t recognize him, but there was something strangely comforting about his presence.He was over a head taller than her in height, and the shadowy silhouette of his attire gave a mystical air about him—almost as if he would fade into the shadows at any moment. Beneath his mask, his jaw was sharp and pointed, as if it had been sculpted by the Gods themselves.

After forcing herself to silence her snivels, she hesitantly took his hand, ignoring the words he uttered.

Upon offering her his hand, Simon’s gaze traveled to this mysterious woman’s figure. Her feathery dress was damp after her fall on the wet grass, but as it soaked to her pale skin, it only enhanced every curve she possessed. Holding onto her hand for a second too long, he continued to ogle at her figure and momentarily lost his manners—not at all how he usually treated a lady.

“My eyes are up here, Sir,” she snapped, pulling her hand back andraising her chin high, despite her now disheveled appearance.

He chuckled at her boldness. “I can see that My Lady, forgive me. It isn’t often I’m taken by someone’s beauty.”

If she heard his comment, she pretended not to. But Simon did make out a faint blush that appeared to rosy her cheeks. As he examined her more carefully, he noticed tear stains and a redness shading her emerald eyes.

“Why are you out here?” she asked.

“Aha, to enjoy some of this fine wine in peace, of course,” he held up a wineglass before continuing, “Balls can be tedious—I desired for the silence of the night. Though, I now believe I’ve found something more pleasant.”

She shook her head, once again passing over his flirtatious remarks. “I see. You’re like most men—here to drink your problems away. It’s no surprise, really, the only good thing about Lady Nelson’s balls are her wine collections, after all.” The woman suddenly pressed a hand in front of her full lips, realizing what she had just said.

He chuckled at her boldness. Why he was driven by her words, he wasn’t entirely sure, but something pushed him to engage further. Every word that had escaped her mouth thus far was a fascinating surprise, and he wanted to be surprised.

“Well, I think I have the right to ask the same question. What is an enchantress like yourself doing out here? Curiosity or…simply neglect?”

“I was getting away from something,” she answered quickly, and he nodded as her words reinforced his guess. After a pause, she continued, “I know what you are.”

He raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his red wine. The pink mask that traced a line over her delicate button nose and up to her flowing brown hair did well to conceal her identity. If she did know him, he certainly couldn’t say the same.

“You do? Pray tell, what am I?”

“A rake,” she snapped, folding her arms in sass. She seemed repulsed by even uttering the word.

“You don’t sound too pleased at the notion.”

“I’m not. Rakes are despicable and a…danger to most of us.”

“I’ll have to agree with your second point,” he uttered. He inched closer to her upon noticing the quivering of her left leg. “But what makes you think I’m despicable? And perhaps more importantly, what makes you think I’m a rake?”

“I—I…” She hobbled back, soon dropping her shoulders in defeat. “I don’t know. I didn’t mean to insult you in particular. I’m just…angry.”

He raised an eyebrow once more. The last thing he expected from her quick-witted self was to confess her emotions to him.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” she continued. “I suppose it wouldn’t matter to a stranger anyway.”

Then, she took a deep breath, preparing herself for something. “First, I had a failed debut, and the gossip columns ridiculed me for weeks, and then my uncle got sick, and then I lost my dress that I spent all summer fixing up, and then I…I saw the man I was courting with another—” Her face ducked to the ground as she realized she’d said too much. “…I didn’t want much, but I never wanted to be a mistress.”

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