Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
‘Where would you like me to begin?’ he asks, all rather business-like, taking his seat once he’s filled my hand with one of the glasses, and crossing one leg over the other.
‘From the beginning, I suppose.’ I sip my wine, something telling me I should brace myself. What a ridiculous thought. When with the Duke, I should always be bracing myself. I pause for thought and lower my glass to my knee. ‘But first,’ I say, ‘I have a question.’
‘You may ask me anything and I will answer you truthfully.’
‘I should think so,’ I retort, indignant, and he smiles. ‘It will take you a lifetime to pay me back for the distress you have caused me.’
‘Then it’s a fine thing we have a lifetime ahead of us, isn’t it?’
I fight to hide my surprise and my delight. ‘You’re assuming I bless you with the opportunity to win back my affections.’
‘Oh, Eliza,’ he purrs, relaxing back in his chair, his eyes burning me with the intensity of his stare. ‘How you thrive on the thrill of the chase.’
I pout, sipping my wine. ‘Which leads me to my question,’ I muse. ‘Your planned seduction.’
He smiles. ‘It was far more difficult than it should have been. I expected to have the deed done and dusted on our first encounter. Alas, I found myself quite taken by a rather smart mouth.’
I baulk at his honesty. ‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint.’
‘You could never disappoint me, Eliza. Only if you reject me again.’
‘I might yet.’
He nods mildly, his eyes never leaving mine, and rises to his full, wonderful height, strolling casually over to me. He rounds the back of my chair and his closeness alone has my body tensing. Then I feel his mouth at my ear, and I inhale slowly, closing my eyes. ‘Are you certain of that?’ he whispers, his tongue wickedly licking the shell of my ear. I moan, ready to abandon the story, despite being desperate for every detail, and ravage him to death.
But he pulls away abruptly, leaving me a panting mess in the chair, my wine splashing up the glass. ‘Now, from the beginning,’ he says, smiling in satisfaction as he takes his seat once more. ‘Are you ready, Eliza?’
‘I am,’ I breathe, composing myself. But… am I?
‘Once upon a time,’ he begins, swallowing, perhaps to gather strength to tell his tale, ‘there were two dukes. One from Cornwall, one from Chester.’ His father. Lymington. ‘One duke was notoriously cunning, the other notoriously kind-hearted. The families had long been rivals – and the rivalry was only enhanced when both dukes fell in love with the same woman.’ He smiles, but it is far from fond, and I stare at him wide-eyed. ‘The problem was, the girl was promised to the cunning duke.’
‘Lymington.’
He nods.
‘But she loved your father.’ I state it as the fact I know it must be.
Another nod, and he stands and starts wandering the room. I’m certain he’s trying to walk off the anger. ‘Lymington challenged my father to a duel, and Papa met him on the common. Little did Lymington know, my father was a talented gunman and won fair and square, although he did not kill him, but merely injured his knee. He’s needed a walking aid ever since.’
‘Good God,’ I whisper.
‘Yes.’ His jaw twitches. ‘The rivalry only worsened. Fast forward many years and endless questionable business deals, Lymington was on the verge of bankruptcy. My father, ever the mad scientist,’ – he smiles fondly now, but I detect sadness too – ‘had invented many pieces in his time, but this new piece was sure to revolutionise printing. We were due to attend a party at the Duke Tillsbury’s estate. All of us.’ He frowns. ‘Except Papa. He never did like socialising.’
‘Annabella Tillsbury,’ I whisper.
‘Her husband. Lymington saw an opportunity and took it.’
‘No.’
He swallows. ‘Mother did not feel well, so decided to remain at home, too, and Taya and Sampson insisted on watching over her. I, however…’ The pain on his face is very real. The party boy. The wayward, rebellion. I see his guilt. ‘I got home in time to save my mother and siblings, but my father…’ He shakes his head, a sorrow as strong as I have ever seen settling in his expression. ‘I took my family to our estate in Cambridge to recuperate. I suspected Lymington had a hand in it but could not prove it. I decided to remain out of London for the safety of my mother, brother and sister. A few months later, I heard Lymington had invested in a newspaper. I started to piece it all together. The invention of Father’s. The steam printing. And then a story released claiming we had all died and it was me who was responsible.’ His jaw ticks. ‘I knew then he was responsible, I just did not know how to prove it. I’ve been plotting my revenge ever since.’