Lucy had to tighten her jaw to keep it from sagging open.The Grand’s dining room was every bit as lavish as the broadsheets’ most breathless descriptions, and its centerpiece was a fountain tiled in the Byzantine style, water droplets sparkling as they cascaded from a marble palm tree into a pool surrounded by potted palms.
There, in pride of place right beside the fountain, seated at an intimate table for two, was Thornecliff.
And across from him?The famously voluptuous and alluring courtesan, Mrs.Forrest.
The top of Lucy’s head blew off.He’d brought Lucy to ecstasy that night at Sharpe’s.And then he’d gone straight from her arms to another woman.
A mature, sophisticated, effortlessly captivating woman, with hair the vibrant red-gold of a Tuscan sunset and a wide, frankly sensual smile that she turned on Thornecliff as though he was the most interesting man she’d ever met.
Thorne’s back was to Lucy so she couldn’t see his response to Mrs.Forrest’s open admiration.But of course he would be lapping it up.Men were so simple, at heart, but she’d thought— She’d hoped— He’d made her believe?—
He’d made her believe he wanted her.Until the exact moment she made it clear she wanted him in return.Then he’d dropped her like a hot muffin.
The absolute swine.
Lucy found herself stalking across the dining room without being aware of moving her feet.Everything around her was a dull pulse of noise, including Mr.Leach’s startled objections, and Lucy ignored it all until she was standing over Thornecliff’s perfectly tousled golden head.
Borne on the wings of fury, Lucy felt as though she was watching the scene from outside her own body.The questioning arch of Mrs.Forrest’s brows, accompanied by an easy smile.The slight curl of Thornecliff’s fingers on the table, the way he sat in his chair as though it was a throne.
The tilt of his head as he slowly glanced up and realized who it was that stood beside his table.
Lucy stared down into his fathomless black eyes and forced a bright smile.“Goodness, look who it is!The Duke of Thornecliff!I didn’t expect to see you here.”
For a single breath, his preternaturally handsome face registered real surprise.Lucy felt a spasm of something she couldn’t name when, with the next heartbeat, he recovered control of his features.
There was a cynical twist to his lips as he said, “Didn’t you?”
Lucy’s skin felt so heated, she feared it might crack and split.Ignoring Thornecliff, both because she knew he hated it and because if she kept looking at him, she was going lose all control, she turned to his companion.“I was coming over to introduce myself to you, Mrs.Forrest.You see, I noticed you from afar the other night at Sharpe’s when you were wearing the most ravishing gown.It was a deep indigo shade that set off your hair to perfection.I was hoping you would be generous enough to tell me the name of your modiste.”
Mrs.Forrest’s sparkling green eyes flicked back and forth between Lucy and Thornecliff, but she didn’t hesitate to hold out one smooth, white hand.“Charmed to make your acquaintance, Miss—?”She trailed off, looking to Thornecliff to complete the introductions.
“Lady Lucy Lively,” he said, waving a negligent hand.There was a forced carelessness in his tone that made Lucy twitch.“Mrs.Susannah Forrest.”
Emerald gaze sharpening, Mrs.Forrest nevertheless smiled at Lucy.“Charmed,” she repeated warmly.“And I can’t imagine you have need of my modiste when all of London knows your entire wardrobe comes from Madame Fleury in Paris.But I thank you for the compliment, and if you indeed wish to add to your collection of gowns, visit Mrs.Snowdon in Gracechurch Street and tell her I sent you.I’m sure she will be very happy to oblige you.”
Of course Mrs.Forrest would be charming as well as beautiful.Her words were everything gracious, and spoken in a low, husky voice that sounded like a sensual moan in a darkened boudoir.
“Well.”Lucy swallowed, her eyes wandering back to Thornecliff against her will.His ironic expression hadn’t changed, nor had he roused from his languid posture.
But when her gaze dropped to his long, dexterous fingers, they were white-knuckled where they wrapped around the stem of his crystal wineglass.
“I apologize for interrupting your evening for fashion advice,” Lucy said, proud of the lightness of her tone.“I can see that you’re otherwise engaged.”
“Not at all,” Mrs.Forrest replied smoothly.“Won’t you join us?”
There was a crack and a splash and a curse, in quick succession.Thornecliff had snapped the stem of his wineglass in two, spilling claret across the white tablecloth like a pool of blood.
Lucy gaped for a moment before realizing there was actual blood—Thornecliff had cut his hand on the jagged edge of broken glass.
She made a sound without meaning to; she wanted to snatch his wounded hand, to cradle it between her palms and soothe the hurt.
Oh God.She was in much worse trouble than she’d realized.
Backing away from the table, Lucy stammered, “No, thank you, I mustn’t, places to be— Good-bye!”
Turning on her heel, she fled—but not before she heard Mrs.Forrest murmur to Thornecliff, “It seems youareotherwise engaged.My dear duke, what are you up to?”
Nothing much, was Lucy’s near-hysterical thought as she raced out of the dining room and into the street.Nothing much, except to make me fall in lust with a man I loathe.
