Chapter 4
“They did what?” Persephone exclaimed. “Have they lost every single one of their senses?”
“Agreed!” Isadora fumed. “I cannot believe they descended upon you like a pack of vultures! I’ll give them a piece of my mind.”
Vultures? Did that mean she was a carcass? Elowyn pulled a face. To those women, she might as well be, she supposed. Her friends had arrived an hour after those “vultures” attempted to pry the meat off her flesh. “I held my own.”
“You shouldn’t have to hold your own against them,” Persephone snapped.
Elowyn gestured to the tea tray to attempt to divert their attention. “Eat some macaroons.” She selected one for herself, biting into the almond sweetness.
“They won’t stop, you know,” Persephone pointed out. “The fact that she’s gone to these lengths to snag a duke means she won’t give up. Unfortunately, he is now on alert, so she won’t get a chance to trap the duke again.”
“Which means, I truly am her only hope.”
“Quite right,” a man’s voice cut through the drawing room.
Elowyn stilled.
Who . . .
At the pure shock displayed on her friends’ faces, she slowly turned.
The macaroon dropped from her mouth.
Merciful heaven.
The Duke of Mandeville stood framed in the doorway like a dark omen, his head nearly brushing the arch, his cold amber eyes staring straight at her, his expression every bit as unforgiving as the winter air.
Even his beauty was unnerving, like some exquisitely painted masterpiece meant to be admired from a distance, never touched.
“I’m not imagining him, am I?” Elowyn asked without looking away from the formidable figure even knowing the answer. The man was a thousand times more intimidating in the light of day than at night. “You see him, too?”
“Oh, we see him, all right,” Isadora murmured, sounding as dazed.
“Now that we have my existence out of the way,” the duke drawled with frosty politeness. “May I have a private word, Lady Elowyn?”
Flustered and mortified when the half-eaten macaroon plopped to the ground, she rose to her feet.
Heat flooded her cheeks as she brushed crumbs from her skirts.
Of all the undignified things! She wanted to investigate the location of the macaroon, but the man seemed bent on holding her gaze prisoner.
Persephone dragged Isadora up with her. “Hmm, we’ve been meaning to examine the new portrait in the morning room. Right, Isadora?”
Isadora nodded like a hen pecking rice.
What new portrait, you traitors?
Elowyn wrenched her gaze away to glare at her friends, but before she could utter a single word of protest, they darted from the room, the duke moving aside to let them pass. He shut the door after them, crossing his arms while taking a wide stance right there, blocking any escape.
Elowyn blinked at the man, unsure where or how to place her hands, trying her best not to dwell on the fact that she’d never been alone with a man other than her family in a room before.
And there was a macaroon somewhere at her feet.
Of course, she knew exactly why this man appeared before her now. “Is this truly necessary?”
“You tell me, Lady Elowyn.”
She furrowed her brows. “I’m not sure I take your meaning, Your Grace. And how did you slip past our butler?”
“I didn’t slip past anyone. I pushed past them. And then warned them to silence. As for my meaning, that should be clear.”
His bluntness astonished her. “You’re here to enquire about my intentions.”
“Not quite. I’m here to enquire about your motives.”
“My motives?”
“Yes, your motives. I’ve yet to meet a woman who didn’t help a man like you did without some motive in her heart.”
Elowyn could scarcely believe the man. Well, she supposed she couldn’t blame him for his caution.
He had nearly been trapped in marriage to Lady Gabrielle.
But that didn’t mean he could now trap her.
After all, she could be considered his savior, right?
Where was the gratitude? “I don’t have a motive, Your Grace.
I only have an intention, and that is not to get embroiled in your business. ” Thank you very much.
“You already are embroiled. Didn’t that woman pay you a visit today?”
That woman . . . He must truly not like Lady Gabrielle’s company.
Elowyn’s eyes widened. But more to the point, “How do you know she called on me?”
“My future is on the line, Lady Elowyn.” Coldness seemed to bleed from him. “This is no small matter. You, by some stroke of fate, now hold this future in your hands.”
But she didn’t want that responsibility! She didn’t want it at all! “I have no desire to play God over your life.” Lady Gabrielle was not pleasant to deal with, but this man would be outright lethal. Between the two, there was no doubt in her mind who she would choose for posterity’s sake.
“You have no desire of playing God and yet here we are. One word from you changes the course of lives.” He left his post at the door and approached her, step by slow step. A predator stalking its prey. “I do not like that at all.”
Neither did she!
The duke suddenly stood right in front of her, unfathomable glacial gaze boring so deep inside her she imagined no amount of proverbial scrubbing could ever wash away the chill settling in the base of her spine.
“One of us loses,” he said softly, barely above a whisper. “I don’t intend for it to be me.”
“Then . . .” How could she reassure this man? “Rest assured. I will not withdraw the claim I made last night.”
“That ridiculous claim no one would ever believe?”
A spark of annoyance ignited in her heart. The man clearly didn’t trust her.
He leaned closer, practically into her. “See, Lady Elowyn, with the right pressure applied to such a flimsy excuse, even the best man would fold, and you are no man.”
In other words, she was frail and weak? Her nails bit into her palms. Never in her life had she wanted to throttle a man so much as she did this one.
Not even her brother, and he had mastered the skill of the annoying older brother.
Drat it all. She had a plan. A plan for this to be the best season ever.
Being caught between a cunning fox and a dangerous wolf was not part of that plan.
“If you cannot believe me, why are you even here, Your Grace?”
“What was the outcome of that woman’s visit this morning?”
Ah, so that was why. “I told her I have no intention of being dragged into her affairs. I have no intention of withdrawing my claim.” She sent the duke a wry look. “Apparently, I shall regret my decision.”
He stared at her.
She stared back.
“I see,” he said after a moment.
What, exactly, did he see? She couldn’t get a read on the man, and she wasn’t about to ask. She simply wanted to find a way to reassure him and send him on his way so she could return to her grand plan. “What exactly do you want from me?”
He took another step closer. “I should ask that of you.”
Elowyn had to tilt her neck up to keep his gaze. “What do I want? From you?” Absolutely nothing!
“Yes. An exchange for keeping your silence.”
Elowyn blinked at the man. Was she understanding this correctly? He wanted to purchase her silence? Would that reassure him? “There isn’t anything I want from you . . .” Except to leave . . .
“There must be something.” His voice dropped, though the coldness didn’t quite leave. “Name it and you shall have it.”
“There’s nothing you can give me,” Elowyn insisted. Nothing good.
“Are you sure?”
His voice suddenly dripped with so much suggestion, Elowyn started. “I’m . . . sure.”
He straightened. “Then I suppose it can’t be helped.”
Her eyes narrowed at his tone. “What can’t be helped?”
“If I only have your word, I’ll have to attach myself to your side in order to make sure you keep your word. It may prove a bit tedious, but our options are rather limited until this mess gets sorted.”
No! That couldn’t be allowed to happen! Attach himself to her side?
That would completely ruin all her plans.
She searched his face. He would truly go so far?
But she didn’t have to wonder. The quirk of his lips told her everything she needed to know.
Yes. Yes he would. He would go as far as he deemed necessary to get his way.
Elowyn saw all of her firsts going up in tragic flames.
No.
By Jove. No!
She could not allow her dreams to resemble that of a Shakespearean play. But . . . She had nothing to ask for. Money? That would be too . . . Elowyn shuddered. The only other things she desired . . .
Absolutely not, Elowyn!
“You do have something.”
She shook her head furiously, but the man had caught onto a scent.
“Tell me,” he demanded.
Her mind flew through the possibilities—jewels, money, her signature on some document promising she’d never speak his name out loud—respectable, sensible requests a sensible woman would make.
She sensed, however, none of these would work.
This duke would not accept anything less than something that mattered.
She stared unblinkingly into the depth of those swirling amber eyes.
“There’s nothing I can accept from you.”
“But there is something you can accept. I’m all ears, Lady Elowyn. It can be anything.”
He was all ears, but her heart was pounding in her ears!
Would she be forced to reveal her mission for the season to the duke?
How silly she would look to a man such as him.
But was there any other way? Rather than dwelling on her reluctance, she should focus on which item on her list she could use to divert the handsome devil’s scrutiny and avoid having him attach himself to her. That was the most important goal here.
Her first dance was out. That was too public. A tryst in the garden? No way. Her first ride through Hyde Park? Impossible. It might spark even more rumors than a dance. Husband? Correction. That was impossible. She could never fall in love with such an intimidating cold man.
But one of them . . .