“I…” She looked over his shoulder, wondering if it might be worth storming past him before it was too late.It would not do to be found alone with a man like this. That is a scandal waitingto happen.“It is best for the two of us if you do. And quickly, thank you.”
“What’s the matter?” he frowned as if hurt. “Worried that your pristine reputation might take a battering if you are found alone with me? You wound me.”
Margot could not help but laugh. “I did not know such a thing was possible. One needs a conscience to be wounded.”
His eyes flashed with mischief. “Oh dear. That was rather harsh.”
“Earned,” Margot shot back, not liking at all how the duke was behaving. It was as if this was some joke to him, as if he was taking pleasure in how uncomfortable he was making her. “I know all about you, Your Grace. Such that you might have claimed to have stumbled here in a bid to lend aid…” She snorted. “But you and I both know the true reason.”
“Pray do tell. What is the true reason?”
She curled her lip at him, wanting him to see how much she despised him. “Likely, you heard the call of a woman and figured it would be one more notch to add to your bedpost. Another life to ruin, which, as I hear it, is a particular talent of yours.”
Margot could not say exactly why she was being so hostile toward the duke. She had never met the man before. And he had never done anything deserving of her antipathy.There isjust something about him that irks me. Who he is… what he represents… and that he does not seem to care or suffer the consequences as I would had I done half of what he had.
More than that, Margot hated how she agreed with her cousin concerning his looks. The duke was indeed attractive, not in a typical way, but his confidence and charm dripped from him like honey. And he knew it. His eyes were blue like sapphires, and they flicked over her hungrily, paired with a smirk that made it only too easy to guess what was on his mind. It made her heart race and her body flush…No! There is no force in the world that could ever make me want that.
“Well?” she widened her eyes at him. “Are you going to leave? Or do I need to?”
“I find it strange that you are so quick to judge,” the duke said with a smirk that was knowing. “That you, of all people, would believe such sordid rumors without wondering about the truth of them.” He took a step toward her, his smile growing. “After all, I would have thought you to be the first person to question the maliciousness of lies, Miss Harcourt.”
She gasped. “You… you know my name?”
He laughed. “As I do what people say of you. Tell me, how is Lord Ashcombe doing? Are the two of you still in touch?”
Margot’s face paled to hear that name, and a stone fell into the pit of her stomach that made her want to retch. Never mind that the duke had heard of her, for that shouldn’t have beensurprising. The truth was, most in the ton knew about Margot and Lord Ashcombe, and all were quick to judge and lay at her feet their scorn.
It was three years ago when Margot had first met the handsome, so very desirable lord. She had been a different woman back then, coveted and pursued by many, wanted by all, sure to wed any man of her choosing should she wish it.And me, the fool that I was, chose Lord Ashcombe. It was believed at the time that Margot’s dowry was of extreme value, for her family had once been rich before her father had squandered it. For this reason, Lord Ashcombe had pursued and won her over, not for love as he’d claimed, but for wealth.
Alas, when he learned of her pitiful fortune, he had ended their courtship – as it turned out, he was as broke as she and had only wanted her for her money. To make matters worse, he was quick to lay the blame at her feet, and soon the rumors about her began to fly thick and fast. That she was a harlot. That she had cheated on him. That she had somehow tricked him into falling for her, wishing to use him for his wealth – a wealth that did not even exist!
Such was the veracity of these rumors that Margot had fled. Too proud to fight them. Too stubborn to stay and deny them. She had chosen to hide, thinking that if she was to be out of sight, then soon she would be out of mind.Apparently not.
“How dare you!” she hissed at the duke, her anger flaring. “How dare you, of all people, to judge me!”
“I am not judging you,” he said simply. “Merely having a conversation. You were the one who broached the topic of past indecencies, not I.”
She thought to snap. She thought to snarl. She thought to fling insults of her own. But through it all, one thought took her and held strong, perhaps the smartest she’d ever had. To leave.
“As I started the conversation, I shall end it. Good evening, Your Grace. May our paths never cross again.” And with that, she stormed away.
Or she meant to. Only the duke blocked her path, forcing her to step around him lest she get too close. This forced her to step near a wooden table, the edge catching her gown, which caught the skirt in the frayed wood, which in turn yanked her back as the silk of her dress shrieked from being torn apart.
“Oh!” she yelped as she felt her dress tear. “No!” she spun back, which had the effect of worsening the tear, stretching the silk of the skirt so it ripped right up the back.
“Careful!” The duke came at her quickly, one hand slipping around her waist, the other snatching at the snagged dress.
She gasped to feel his hand on her body. “What are you –”
“Be still!” he hissed.
She froze stiff. Not because the duke told her to, but because his hand gripped the bodice of her dress so tight she could feel his fingers pushing into her waist. And his body, that was held against her own, trapping her between him and his hand so she could not squirm as he attempted to untangle her.
Margot held her breath, and her eyes were wide. Her heart was racing… her body ran warm to feel the duke’s chest pressed into her… and his hand continued to grip. And none of that was to mention how close his face was to her own. He was not looking at her, focused on the skirt of the dress, but she could feel his heart beating just as she could smell him…
“One moment…” He said, his fingers delicately peeling the silk of the dress from the frayed wood. “Almost there…. And done.” The skirt of the dress fell free, but the duke did not let her go.
His hand was still about her waist, only now he was facing her. Their chests were pressed together. Their faces were inches apart. She could feel the warmth of his breath trace her lips, and their hearts beat as if one. He smiled as he met her eyes, cocky and arrogant as always, and as his other hand moved to her waist, Violet’s eyes widened.
