A Season of Secrets

No, he really must not think of her in such terms. He must in future consider himself as purely a guardian where she was concerned.

Even if his extremely private inner thoughts strayed constantly in the opposite direction!

‘Have you drawn any conclusions yet as to how you might thwart my grandmother’s plans for your immediate future?’ Justin teased after several long minutes of her pacing. ‘If so, I wish you would share them with me, if only for my own future reference?’

Ellie came to an abrupt halt to glare across the library at the lazily reclining form of the relaxed duke, the glow from the flames of the fire turning his fashionably styled hair a rich and burnished gold, those patrician features thrown into stark and cruel relief, and causing Ellie’s pulse to quicken in spite of herself.

The rapidity of her pulse, and sudden shortness of breath, told her that, although she now doubted herself in love with him any more, she was still not completely averse to his physical attributes, at least.

His arrogance and mockery, when directly aimed at her, as they now were, were something else entirely, the former frustrating her and the latter infuriating her.

She drew in a deep and steady breath before answering him. ‘I do not see why I cannot, politely but firmly, inform her Grace of my feelings of aversion to an arranged marriage—you find something amusing in that approach?’ she prompted sharply as he laughed out loud.

‘Truth be told, I find it ridiculous in the extreme.’ Justin flashed his even white teeth in an unsympathetic grin. ‘My grandmother, as I am sure you are aware, has all the subtlety of a battering ram. That being so, I doubt your own feelings on the matter will even be considered. Nor will anything you have to say on the subject shake her unwavering certainty that she feels she knows what is best for you,’ he added firmly as Ellie would have protested.

‘Perhaps if you were to—no, I see that you are so entertained by the whole idea, you would not even consider coming to my aid!’ Ellie eyed him in utter disgust as he continued to grin at her in that unsympathetic manner.

He eyed her mockingly. ‘Perhaps if you were to tell me of the reasons for your reluctance in this matter, I’d feel more inclined to help you out?’

Ellie gave an impatient shake of her head. ‘No doubt they are the same as your own. I could never marry anyone whom I did not love with the whole of my heart and who did not love me in the same way.’

All amusement fled as he stood up abruptly, his eyes now a cold and glittering sapphire blue. ‘There you are wrong, Eleanor,’ he rasped. ‘My own feelings on that particular subject are in total opposition to your own,’ he elaborated harshly as she raised questioning brows, ‘in that I would never consider marrying anyone who declared a love for me, or vice versa.’

Ellie’s eyes widened at his words and the coldness of the tone in which he said them. She had believed that the duke’s aversion to marriage was because he had not yet met the woman whom he loved enough to make his duchess. His statement now showed it was the opposite.

Ellie could not help but wonder why...

She was aware, of course, that many marriages in the ton were made for financial or social gain, as her mother’s had been to Frederick St Just. But often the couples in those marriages learnt a respect and affection for each other, and in some cases love itself. Again, that had not happened in her mother’s case, her marriage to Frederick, an inveterate gambler and womaniser, tolerable at best, painful at worst, certainly colouring Ellie’s own views on the subject.

But for any gentleman to deliberately state his intention of never feeling love for his wife, or to have her feel love for him, seemed harsh in the extreme.

And surely it was asking too much of any woman, if married to Justin St Just, not to fall in love with him?

Or perhaps the answer to his stated aversion to loving his future wife had something to do with why he could not initially be found earlier on this evening...?

Ellie knew that many gentlemen of the ton had mistresses, women society dictated they could never marry, but for whom they often held more affection than they did their wives. Perhaps he had such a woman in his life? A low-born woman, or possibly a married woman of the ton, whom he could never make his duchess, but for whom he had a deep and abiding love?

Yes, perhaps that was the explanation for his stated desire for a loveless marriage. ‘Would such a situation not be unfair to your future wife?’ she ventured softly.

He looked down the length of his nose at her. ‘Not if she were made aware of the situation from the onset.’

She gasped. ‘Surely no woman would accept a marriage proposal under such cold and unemotional conditions?’

He gave her a pitying smile. ‘It has been my experience that most, if not all women, would maim or kill in order to marry a duke and love be damned.’

‘But—’

‘The hour grows late, Eleanor, and I believe we have talked on this subject long enough for one evening.’ Justin abruptly placed his empty brandy glass down upon the mantelpiece before turning away, no longer in the least amused by this conversation. ‘If I might ask that you send word to me tomorrow regarding my grandmother’s health?’

‘I—of course, your Grace.’ Eleanor seemed momentarily disconcerted by the abrupt change of subject. ‘Hopefully I might also be able to inform you of her change of mind in regard to my attending the Royston Ball.’

Justin grimaced. ‘You are an optimist as well as a romantic, I see.’

A faint flush darkened her cheeks even as she raised her chin proudly. ‘I would hope I am a realist, your Grace.’

He gave a slow shake of his head. ‘A realist would know to accept when she is defeated.’

‘A realist would accept, even with your generous offer of providing me with a dowry, that I am not meant to be a part of society. Indeed,’ she continued firmly as he would have spoken, ‘I have no ambitions to ever be so.’

Justin raised his brows. ‘You consider us a frivolous lot, then, with nothing to recommend us?’

He found himself the focus of dark-green eyes as Eleanor studied him unblinkingly for several seconds before giving a brief, dismissive smile. ‘There is no answer I could give to that question which would not result in my either insulting you or denigrating myself. As such, I choose to make no reply at all.’

It was, Justin realised admiringly, both a clever and witty answer, and delivered in so ambiguous a tone as to render it as being at least one of the things she claimed it was not meant to be!

Again he found himself entertained by this surprisingly outspoken young woman, to appreciate why his grandmother was so fond of her; Edith St Just did not suffer twittering fools any more gladly than he did himself.

He gave her a courtly bow. ‘I greatly look forward to being your escort to the Royston Ball.’ And it was true, Justin realised with no little surprise; it was diverting, to say the least, to anticipate what this young woman might choose to do or say next!

Her eyes widened in alarm. ‘My escort?’

He shot her a disarming grin. ‘Another request from my grandmother.’

‘But why should I be in need of an escort, when I already reside here?’

Justin smiled. ‘Because a single lady, appearing in society for the first time, must be accompanied by her nearest male relative and guardian, and it appears I have that honour.’

Panic replaced the alarm in those deep-green eyes. ‘Everyone would stop and stare, and the ladies would gossip speculatively behind their fans if I were to enter the ballroom on the arm of the Duke of Royston!’

‘I believe that to be the whole point of the exercise, Cousin.’

‘No.’ Eleanor gave a decisive shake of her head, several red curls fluttering loosely about her temples as she did so. ‘If I am to be forced to attend, as you believe I will be, then I absolutely refuse to make such a spectacle of myself.’

He raised haughty brows. ‘Even though you will have the honour of being the first young woman whom the Duke of Royston has ever escorted anywhere?’

She looked startled for a moment, but recovered quickly. ‘That only makes me all the more determined it shall not happen.’

Justin’s smile widened at her stubborn optimism. ‘I do not believe there is any way in which you might prevent it—other than your possibly falling down the stairs and breaking a leg before then!’ He laughed in earnest as he saw by Eleanor’s furrowed brow that she was actually giving the suggestion serious consideration. ‘Would it really be such a bad thing to be seen entering the ballroom on my arm, Eleanor?’ he chided softly as he crossed the room to stand in front of her. ‘If so, then you are not in the least flattering to a man’s ego.’

‘I do not believe your own ego to be in need of flattery,’ Ellie murmured huskily, totally disconcerted by Justin’s sudden and close proximity. Indeed, she could feel the warmth of his breath ruffling those errant curls at her temple.

‘No?’ Long lean fingers reached up to smooth back those curls, the touch of his fingers light and cool against the heat of her brow.

Ellie swallowed before attempting an answer, at the same time inwardly willing her voice to sound as it normally did. ‘How can it, when you are the elusive but much-coveted prize of the marriage mart?’

She sounded only a little breathless, she realised thankfully, at the same time as she knew her disobedient knees were in danger of turning to water and no longer supporting her.

‘Am I?’ A smile tilted those sculptured lips as those lean fingers now trailed lightly down the warmth of her cheek.

Her throat moved as she swallowed before answering. ‘Elusive or much coveted?’

‘Either.’

Ellie found she was having trouble breathing as his fingers now lingered teasingly close to, but did not quite touch, the fullness of her lips. Suddenly she possessed both dry lips and a throat she necessarily had to moisten before attempting to speak again. ‘This is a ridiculous conversation, your Grace.’

‘Ah, once again you seek to put me firmly in my place with the use of formality,’ he murmured admiringly.

‘I do no such thing!’ Ellie attempted to rally her indignation—not an easy task when the soft pad of the duke’s thumb was now passing lightly across her bottom lip, and sending rivulets of excitement to the tips of her breasts and an unaccustomed warmth to gather between her thighs. ‘Your Grace—’

‘Justin,’ he correct softly. ‘Or Cousin Justin, if you prefer.’

‘I do not,’ she stated firmly, knowing that if she did not stop his teasing soon she would end up as a boneless puddle at his highly polished, booted feet. ‘It is late, and I— Perhaps there is some—someone anxiously awaiting your returning to her tonight?’

He stilled as those narrowed blue eyes moved searchingly over her flushed face. ‘You implied something similar when I arrived earlier tonight...’

‘Your Grace?’

‘It becomes more and more obvious to me that you, like my grandmother, believe my delay in arriving here this evening to be because I was in the arms of my current mistress,’ he said speculatively.

Ellie felt her cheeks flush even warmer, no doubt once again clashing horribly with the red of her hair, as well as emphasising the freckles across her cheeks and nose that had long been the bane of her life. ‘I am not in the least interested as to the reason for the delay in your arrival—’

‘Oh, but I think you are, Eleanor,’ he contradicted softly. ‘Very interested.’

She gave a pained frown as she looked up into those intent blue eyes and decided she had suffered quite enough of this gentleman’s teasing for one evening. ‘Is your conceit so great that you believe every woman you meet must instantly fall under the spell of your charm?’

‘Not in the least.’ Those blue eyes now twinkled down at her merrily. ‘But it is gratifying to know that you at least find me charming, Eleanor—’

‘What I believe, your Grace, is that you are a conceited ass—’ She fell abruptly silent as Justin lowered his head and bit lightly, reprovingly, on her bottom lip.

Ellie stiffened as if frozen in place and her heart seemed to cease beating altogether as she acknowledged that the coldly arrogant Duke of Royston, the mockingly handsome Justin St Just, had just run the moistness of his sensuous tongue over her parted lips...

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.