Chapter Ten #2
“I don’t recall ever leaving it,” Catherine said with a teasing smile.
Elowen sighed. “The Duke has made it quite plain that he has no interest in me, Miss Beaumont. It would be foolish to assume otherwise.”
“Then why is he staring at you like that?”
Elowen’s heart skipped a beat. She looked out the window, hoping it would give her the strength not to give in and look at him. “He’s probably looking at you.”
“Then I suppose he is walking this way to speak with me?”
“Elowen.”
The sound of his voice froze her. She took a moment to compose herself before she dared look at him—and instantly wished she hadn’t. The way he was looking at her made the air around her seem too thin.
She didn’t bother pointing out the fact that he had ignored her request to maintain formalities once again. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“May I speak with you in private?”
“Miss Beaumont and I are in the middle of an important discussion.”
“Which can wait,” Catherine said brightly, rising at once. “Aunt Charlotte? Did you say something?”
The Dowager Duchess looked up, confused, but Catherine was already gone—leaving Elowen very much not alone.
The Duke took the empty seat beside her—far too near for comfort.
“I think we began on the wrong foot,” he said.
“No, we did not.”
His mouth quirked. “You make no secret of your dislike, Miss Tremaine—or, at the very least, your mistrust. And that is my fault. I was far too taciturn at the museum. You must have thought the worst.”
“The worst is oftentimes the truth, Your Grace.”
She didn’t like the way his gaze softened after those words. “No, Elowen—it isn’t.”
She exhaled sharply. “Why do you care what I think of you, Your Grace? Surely you do not seek the approval of every person you meet?”
“No,” he said simply. “Only yours.”
“But why?”
He thinned his lips, saying nothing for a moment. Elowen waited a few seconds, hating the way anticipation morphed into desperation. She hadn’t realised how much she wanted to know the answer before she’d even asked the question.
“It is...complicated,” he said at last.
Elowen huffed a breath of disbelief, just barely stopping herself from rolling her eyes. “What a cowardly response.”
“Perhaps. But no less true.”
“And you think to convince me of your sincerity while hiding your hands behind your back. For all I know, you might be holding a stone, waiting to hurl it the moment I lower my guard.”
“To what purpose?”
“I do not know, Your Grace. To what purpose indeed?”
To her annoyance, the Duke laughed. “I must admit, I do not think there is another woman in England quite like you. It is both alarming and… deeply intriguing.”
She prickled and tried her best not to let it show. With the way he looked at her, though, she had a feeling he could tell. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I did not mean to be either.”
“The latter, I fear, is unavoidable. I doubt anyone could meet you and not be intrigued.”
“Not for the reasons you imagine.”
“No, Elowen,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “Not for the reasons you imagine.”
Heat crept up her neck. The room seemed suddenly too small. They were surrounded by their families, yet the air between them felt uncomfortably intimate.
“What were you and my brother discussing?” she asked quickly.
“Are you certain you wish to know?”
“I would hardly have asked if I did not.”
“Very well. But you may regret the answer.”
“Allow me to be the judge of that.”
The Duke only tilted his head to the side as he regarded her. She couldn’t decide if she disliked the way he never took his eyes off her whenever they spoke, as if she were the only thing that mattered.
“I’m not sure if anyone has ever told you this, Your Grace,” she said, unable to keep the irritation from her voice.
“But you are the most cryptic and dramatic gentleman I have ever met. It is a wonder you have ever been able to complete a conversation with anyone without them growing cross with you.”
His laugh burst forth before he could stop it—rich and unrestrained. Heads turned.
“You are quite blunt,” he said, still amused. “I knew that already, but it continues to surprise me.”
“I suppose you bring it out of me.”
“I do, don’t I?”
“You are quite frustrating.”
“You are easy to frustrate.”
“Clearly, that seems to be your chief aim when you speak with me.”
“Not the only aim.”
“Then what else?”
“I want to know the woman behind the mask.”
“Why?”
“Because you deserve it.”
She didn’t answer, their tit-for-tat coming to a swift, tense end. Everything inside her seemed to flare up at once, engulfing her until she could focus on nothing else but him and his words.
Because you deserve it? What does he mean by that?
“Elowen?”
Elowen tore her eyes away from the Duke’s, feeling as if she was being pulled out of a tub of water. It was her mother, watching her with that small, knowing smile of hers.
“It is time for us to take our leave,” she informed her.
Elowen wasted no time in standing. She didn’t look back at the Duke as she walked away, but she was far too aware of the fact that he followed right behind her, even coming to stop by her side as she joined her family, as if he belonged there as well.
Everyone seemed to take note of it, but Elowen pretended she didn’t, even as that infernal blush started creeping up her neck.
The farewells were made quickly. It was quite late, after all, and the Duke and his family decided to take their leave at the same time.
Which meant he had every opportunity to walk close to her as they made their way to the foyer, not breaking away until each party was heading to their respective carriages.
Elowen made it a point of duty not to look at him as the carriage pulled out of the Westbrook driveway.
“Well then,” William said cheerfully once they were on the road. “Wasn’t that an interesting evening?”
Margaret laughed, but Elowen said nothing. She kept her eyes on the darkened streets, trying not to think of the Duke’s words—
Because you deserve it.
It was ridiculous, really. And yet, she could not deny it—
He intrigued her just as much.