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)
I pull my jacket in and take one step but pause when I notice something is missing. I look left and right, then back to the carriages. ‘Bugger,’ I hiss to myself. Where the hell has she disappeared to? I look towards Mr Fitzgerald’s house, the architect who designed Belmore Square and also the stable boy’s employer. I must go there and have a word with him. Ask him kindly to threaten the boy with his job if he continues to see Clara, because my word of warning, I fear, has had no effect whatsoever. Yes, I must. And there is no time like the present.
‘And where are you going?’ Taya Winters asks as I pass her, my eyes purposely evading her willowy form.
‘I don’t believe that is a concern of yours,’ I say, being as polite as I can be, smiling tightly, my eyes low as I walk away from her. Since my body’s reactions are quite unstoppable around this woman, I must not look at her. Or smell her. In fact, avoiding her is imperative; if she would only stay out of my way.
‘I’m not sure my brother, or, equally, your sister, will be too pleased about your absence when they arrive home for the celebrations.’
I stop and frown at the intricate, gilded railings that circle the gardens of Belmore Square. Whatever is she talking about? ‘My sister and her husband’ – who, highly distressingly, is Taya’s brother, therefore there is no getting away from her – ‘have left for Paris, where they will spend a few days being all romantic, I suppose, and then sail to Italy and a few other European destinations, before they head for Ind …’ I fade off, not just because Taya Winter’s is showing amusement, but because another carriage has just turned onto the square, and pulling it is a horse I recognise. My horse. Figaro.
‘Ah, here they are!’ Wisteria sings, prompting Mama and Papa to turn at the top of the steps, where all the residents of Belmore Square can see them perfectly well.
‘What is going on?’ I ask no one in particular.
Taya Winters is quick to enlighten me. ‘They decided to postpone their bridal tour.’
‘Pardon me?’ I turn a stunned look onto her, one which I can tell she is relishing. Postpone? But they cannot. I have a story to publish. News to tell.
‘Their bridal tour, they are not go––’
‘Yes, yes, I heard you the first time.’ This is rather unfortunate, I must say.
Taya blinks her surprise. ‘You are very rude, Mr Melrose.’
I laugh under my breath. This woman is quite unbelievable. ‘I am rude?’
‘Yes, you are rude,’ she says, folding her arms over her chest, and, as a consequence, further pushing her breasts up. Naturally, and unstoppably, my eyes drop to the swelling, peachy globes that are only partially covered by her dark blonde waves.
‘I apologise,’ I say over a swallow, ripping my eyes away, feeling rather hot.
‘Maybe I won’t accept your apology.’
‘That is your prerogative, my lady.’ I smile and relish the slight tick of her jaw. I’m certain she wants to take my apology and push it down my throat, and because I am truly concerned she may do just that – for she apparently has sass for days – I climb the steps to my rather pleased-looking parents. ‘Eliza is not leaving to travel?’
‘Not yet, dear,’ Mama says.
Papa shrugs. ‘She claims to have work to do, and I have long stopped arguing with your sister on matters of work.’
Well, this is perfect. My plan has just gone up in smoke. I would like to tell Eliza’s new husband to insist. Unfortunately, I cannot do that without risking upsetting a great many people. Bugger it all, what now?
I turn to face the square as rapturous applause breaks out, seeing the carriage come to a stop. So now they love the Duke, do they? Idolise him? The hypocrites. These people gave the Winters hell. Snubbed them. Practically chased them out of town, and here they all are celebrating the Duke’s happy ever after.
I watch the ton welcome back the previously disgraced Duke with open arms as I lean on my cane, feeling that familiar burning sensation again. Eyes on me. Don’t look, Frank. Do not look.
But my eyes betray me, and I peek up. She is standing at the back of the carriage, and when I catch her eye, she quickly looks away. I watch in fascination as her chest slowly rises and falls. Watch her flustered hand brush her hair out of her face, and then she peeks at me again, and I catch it, as well as the flush of her cheeks.
And it occurs to me in this moment … she’s attracted to me, too. ‘Oh dear,’ I murmur, my eyes absorbed by her. ‘This is rather unfortunate.’