Chapter 6 #2
Deena hesitated. “But it is you who needs to spill his secrets, not me.”
“If I do hand you a secret that could ruin me. And if betrayed into the wrong hands, I’d lose everything. My title, my estates… all of it. So, it’s only fair, isn’t it? One truth for another. And I am a gentleman, so…ladies first?” he coaxed her gently.
Deena exhaled. “Fine. But only if you swear it stays between us.”
“On my honor.” He placed a hand over his heart, mock-solemn.
“The scandal that sent me to Paris… it was nothing. Truly.”
Austin stopped in his tracks.
“It does not sound like nothing. Go on?” he encouraged her.
She let out a slow breath, as if the memory still weighed on her lungs.
“I’d slipped into the library during my debut ball,” she began, quietly but steadily, “to read, yes, actually read, because the evening had become unbearable. Too many people, too much noise, and too many eyes watching my every step. I thought a few minutes alone with a book would calm me.”
Austin watched her closely. “What were you reading?”
A faint, rueful smile touched her lips. “A volume of Byron. Rather ironic, in hindsight.”
He gave a low chuckle. “Poetry in a ballroom. Scandal already brewing.”
She rolled her eyes but continued. “I’d only just settled into a chair when the door opened, and Lord Haverford stumbled in. He was half-drunk, his tie askew, and he was clearly looking for a quiet corner to… well, be indiscreet with…someone. When he saw me, he stopped short.”
Austin’s brow lifted; he made a mental note of Lord Haverford’s name. “And?”
“I stood at once. ‘My lord,’ I said, as politely as I could manage, ‘this room is occupied. Please leave.’”
He could picture her, eighteen, proud even then, with her chin high. “And did he?”
“Not immediately.” Her voice cooled. “He laughed and said something about how a little company might improve my evening. I told him again, more firmly, that I wished to be alone and he should go before anyone noticed.”
Austin’s jaw tightened. “The bastard.”
Deena shrugged, though tension lingered in her shoulders.
“We argued, and he advanced and grabbed my wrists. I fought against his grip until he let go, and I retreated behind a chair. I threatened to call for my brother, and Haverford laughed and called me a cold little thing who needed some warming up. And then—” Her voice cracked.
“What did he do?” Austin growled.
“As he was approaching me again, this time with more darkness in his eyes, the matron opened the door and… the rest was history. We were alone. Unchaperoned. That was all.” Her shoulders drooped.
Silence settled between them, heavy as the night air, broken only by the soft hum of fireflies.
“Did he touch you?” Austin asked, his voice low, edged with a quiet fury.
Deena met his gaze, her green eyes steady but shadowed with old weariness. “No. Not in the way you mean. He only grabbed my wrists.”
Austin’s jaw tightened. “But he wanted to.”
She looked away, toward the drifting lights in the meadow. “Yes. I believe he did.”
“Without your consent?”
“Yes.”
The muscle in his cheek flexed. “Is he here? Participating in your grandmother’s Duke Hunt?”
Deena turned back, brows drawing together. “Not this season. Why?”
Austin shrugged. “No reason.”
She studied him for a long moment, suspicion flickering. “All right…”
He exhaled slowly, reining in the protective anger that had flared so suddenly. “And then what happened?”
Deena’s shoulders lifted in a small, resigned breath. “By morning, the story had grown, whispers of embraces, of torn gowns, of things I’d never even imagined. Dominic did what he thought was best. He sent me to Paris to let the scandal die down. But it never truly died, did it?”
Austin placed a steady hand on her tiny shoulder. “It should have. You did nothing wrong.”
“Tell that to the ton,” she said bitterly, then softened. “Though… thank you. For saying it.”
He wanted to pull her against him and shield her from every whispered judgment and potential threat. Instead, he only murmured, “You deserved better, then. And you deserve better now.”
Her gaze returned to his. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then she gave a small, cheeky smile. “Your turn, Your Grace. I believe you owe me something equally if not more scandalous.”
“That was the great scandal?”
“Yes.” Her tone was wry. “Reputation cares nothing for truth.”
He shook his head slowly. “Women have it damned harder than we do. A man could be caught in the act and still be invited to Almack’s. You read a book in the wrong room with the wrong man and are exiled for five years.”
Deena turned to him with a surprised look. “You’ve only just realized this?”
“I’ve known it,” he admitted. “But hearing it from you… it lands differently.”
Moonlight caught the faint smile she tried to hide. “Do not try to change the topic. It’s your turn. Tell me something outrageous.”
Austin resumed walking, his hand brushing the small of her back to guide her gently towards the lit arbor where lanterns glowed like golden fruit overhead.
The touch was light, proper—yet the heat of her body seared through the thin fabric of her gown, and he felt her spine stiffen, then soften, just slightly.
He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial murmur, pitched for her ears alone.
“Very well. Last Season, Lady X, who is married, beautiful, and famously virtuous, invited me to her private sitting room to ‘discuss a charitable subscription.’ The door locked behind us with a very deliberate click. Within ten minutes, her gown was pooled on the floor, her legs wrapped tight around my waist. She begged me, quite desperately, I must add, to ruin her completely and make her forget her cold, indifferent husband ever existed.”
Deena’s step faltered, and she stared at him slack-jawed. The lantern light painted gold across her freckles and caught in her widened green eyes. “You’re making that up.”
Austin stepped close enough that the faint scent of roses in her hair mingled with the night air. “I wish I were,” he said, his eyes not leaving hers. “She still sends me notes drenched in jasmine, pleading for another afternoon. I burn them unread.”
Deena’s cheeks flushed a deep rose, and Austin was sure that it had nothing to do with the cool night. Her gaze dropped to his mouth for the briefest instant, then flicked away.
“That… will certainly sell pamphlets.”
“Good.” He didn’t move back. The space between them felt tense. He could see the quick rise and fall of her chest, and the way her lower lip caught between her teeth before she released it. It was plump and glistening.
“Your move,” he said softly. “Another secret?”
She drew a slow breath, as if steadying herself. Her eyes slid past him to the deeper garden, where the lanterns ended, and darkness began.
“I want to go off the path. There are more fireflies in the meadow.”
Austin’s pulse kicked hard.
An isolated, dark place with Deena? All alone, no watchful eyes, and no rules.
Every instinct roared yes. He pictured pressing her against the tall grass, skirts rucked up around her thighs, her legs wrapped around him, gasping his name.
Her nails scored his back, her body clenched hot and wet around him.
He swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “We should stay where it’s lit.”
But Deena lifted her chin in that defiant way he was beginning to crave. “Are you afraid of the dark, Your Grace?”
He stepped closer to her until they were only inches apart and his voice dropped to a near-growl. “I’m more afraid of what I might do in it.”
Her eyes widened a fraction, and her lips parted on a soft, involuntary inhale. The sound went straight to his groin. For a heartbeat he thought she might lean in and might let him close the distance and finally discover how she tasted.
Instead, she turned, slipping past the last lantern and disappearing into the shadows.
“I’ll be quick,” she called out.
“Deena—”