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)
‘Am I?’ Clara gasps and swings shocked blue eyes my way. I can’t say I care for her sarcasm, so we are both dissatisfied in this moment. I return my attention forward, scowling, but not at Clara, more at the tingles on my skin. It is rather cold in here.
‘You really do say stupid things, Frank,’ she goes on. ‘And who are you to judge who I fall in love with?’
I nibble my bottom lip, my eyes narrowing at the space before me, as Clara continues to drone in my ear, words I am not paying attention to in the least. I discreetly peek over my shoulder, and all is answered when I find Lady Taya Winters on the row behind me. She looks up from her hymn sheet, her bright green eyes shimmering, and I quickly turn back, catching a breath. How is it so a woman can do that? Quite literally steal the air from my lungs? Is she a witch?
‘Who are you looking at?’ Clara asks, looking over her shoulder.
‘No one.’ I grab her arm and swing her back to face the front. ‘Now shut up.’
‘What did you do to Benjamin?’ she hisses, quite out of the blue.
‘Nothing too brutal.’ I say, pulling myself back into the room for the joyful occasion, facing the happy couple once again, pretending the enticing sight of Taya Winters isn’t lingering behind me.
‘Frank!’
‘Don’t make me take further action, Clara.’
She huffs, and it is disrespectful, although completely expected from my littlest sister. And to think when she arrived in London for this season she was full of enthusiasm and couldn’t wait to party with the poshest. That all changed rather quickly when she grasped the constraints she faced. ‘And what will you do?’ she asks with a strong voice that she would do well to manage.
‘Send you back to the countryside.’
‘You wouldn’t,’ she whisper-hisses, outraged.
‘Try me.’ I smile and nod to Papa and Mama as they follow Eliza and Johnny out of the church. ‘A stable boy is a stretch too far, Clara.’
‘Oh, but a murdering duke is just fine.’
I roll my eyes and edge out, walking out of the church with the rest of the family, making a conscious effort not to allow my eyes to fall anywhere near Taya Winters. She makes me feel … uncomfortable. ‘You know as well as I do that the Duke is not responsible for any murders.’
‘Unfortunately, yes, I do.’ She trails me as we leave the church. ‘It is all right for you, Frank, for you may do as you please and have dalliances galore.’
Apparently not. Not any more. ‘I know not what you speak of,’ I say stoically, making Clara roll her eyes.
‘Where has that snake Lymington disappeared to, anyway? There has been nothing written in the newspapers about what has happened to that old heathen. Why?’
Clara is right. Absolutely nothing, and I am suspicious. It’s no secret the Prince Regent favours The London Times, but he is also Lymington’s friend, so I expect the fact that Eliza revealed Lymington to be the murderer of Johnny’s father and the reason the Winters family left London, for their safety, may change that. Time will tell. ‘I know not, sweet sister, but rest assured justice will be served.’
‘Sweet?’ she questions, nudging my shoulder as we come to a stop outside the church doors. ‘Oh, please. And if you want justice served, just put Lymington in a room with our lovely new brother-in-law. I’m sure the Duke will teach him a lesson or two. After all, murder is punishable by death.’
I smile at Clara’s candid attitude; she’ll make a great reporter one day, I’m certain of it, but my smile drops when I catch Taya Winters approaching me. Oh God. I begin to shift, uncomfortable. What the hell is wrong with me? I usually laugh in the face of a pretty girl. Knock them back with my killer smile. Look at them with a million promises in my eyes. This woman, though, has me in a bit of a fluster. I haven’t even ever spoken to her. How is this possible?
I bow, as one would expect in the presence of a lady. ‘My lady,’ I say politely, keeping my eyes low.
‘Mr Melrose,’ she replies simply.
And those two words set my insides alight. Good grief, her voice is soft, almost a whisper, sweet without being sickly, seductive without effort.
And dangerous.
My heart thrums. My breathing diminishes, my skin prickles. It is all so very odd, but completely unstoppable, which is most unfortunate because stop it I must.
‘Brother?’
I blink myself out of my daze and find Clara looking up at me in question. Then I glance past her and find Lady Taya watching me closely, in interest, as if she has mind-read my mental analysis of her attractive assets and my body’s reactions to her. I suddenly feel so very exposed and vulnerable. I blink and look away, claim Clara, and walk us on. I remind myself that I have never been short of a pretty girl to bed, none of whom, I further remind myself, are related to me. ‘I am all right,’ I assure Clara as we approach the happy couple, and they are so very, very happy. Sickeningly so. We join Mama and Papa in wishing them well, and I take the needed moment to gather myself. Or, failing that, distract myself.