Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
‘Unfortunately, it has come as a shock to Eliza, though I know not why when …’ His Grace fades off and shifts uncomfortably in his seat, glancing at Papa nervously. It is ridiculous, if you ask me, for him to act with supposed honour. We all know Eliza was indulged by the Duke’s charms before she was leg-shackled. ‘She is most shocked,’ he says simply, sinking further into his seat, looking like a beaten man. I have always admired my sister’s free will, nurtured it to an extent, and perhaps taken advantage of it when the time called for it, but … oh, she cannot let her ambitions cause unrest in her marriage. The Duke, despite being an oaf at times, is a good man, and he makes a fine husband who has his priorities in good order.
‘Where is she?’ I ask. ‘I should like to speak with her.’ Perhaps, in a lovingly, brotherly way I know I am capable of because my sister is oh so dear to me, I can bring her around and she may be happy about this, because, naturally, it is a happy occasion!
‘She has resorted to barricading herself in our room to avoid words of reason.’ Johnny takes some coffee and sips, and, for he surely looks like he needs it, I ponder offering him something harder. I feel pity for him. He looks as queer as Dick’s hatband.
‘Rest assured, I will fix this,’ I say, placing my coffee down and leaving the house, my destination and purpose my only focus, therefore I cannot say I pay too much attention to the odd looks coming at me from the staff or the residents who are up and about at this early hour as I cross through the gardens of the square. Naturally, I cast my eyes over the bushes as I go, reliving last night, the energy and thrill of the chase, of possibly catching a glimpse of her face. I stop at a rather large laurel bush, my eyes set on something entwined around the thick, green leaves. Reaching forward, I pluck the hair and pull the long strand free, watching as it wafts in the light morning breeze. Dark, long. I release it from my grasp and watch it float away. I had momentarily wondered if I had dreamt the whole thing. Or imagined it. I was certainly drunk enough. But that hair …
She was here, in Belmore Square. And again I ask myself why. Oh, the mystery!
I shake myself back to life, cross the cobbles to number one, pass through the creaky gate, march up the path, take the gold lion’s head door knocker, and give it a good whack. Hercules answers, looking surprised. ‘I must see my sister,’ I declare, entering without invitation. ‘Where will I find her?’
‘Top of the stairs, third door on the right, Mr Melrose,’ he answers without hesitation or question, telling me Hercules here is most pleased I have arrived. I take the stairs and put myself outside the door, taking the knob and turning. The door does not shift even an inch, so I knock gently. ‘Eliza, it is I, Frank.’
Silence.
‘Come now, sister, we are all very worried.’
‘Go away!’
I recoil and pout, thinking that was rather uncalled for. ‘Eliza, be reas––’
‘What on earth are you doing here at this ungodly hour?’
I whirl round and find Taya Winters behind me looking beautifully sleepy and dishevelled in a pair of calf-clingers and a sheer chemise. Lord have mercy on my soul. I shake myself from my inertness and remind myself of everything I reminded myself of many times before – she is forbidden, I’ll die, it’ll ruin the family name, the business. All of that, of course, annoyingly, for it does not help matters, also reminds me of that brief almost kiss. I must ignore her. For both of our sakes. Or be rude. Make her hate me. ‘Me being here is of no concern to you.’
Her expression is fierce. ‘Except it’s my house, you fool.’
Fool. She is, of course, correct. On both counts. I turn back towards the door and knock once again. ‘Eliza, please, let me in.’ I look out the corner of my eye, feeling her getting closer, and I inhale, pressing myself into the wood of the door, effectively taking myself out of reach of Taya as she passes. Except, she still somehow manages to brush my back with her shoulder, and I swallow repeatedly, trying to dampen down my heating blood. Please, please, sister, let me in! I watch Taya tread on light feet down the hallway, her long, wild dark blonde hair swishing across the top of her backside. I am transfixed, my eyes rooted to the curve of her waist. She has a piece of paper in her hand. What is she pencilling now?