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)
It is dark, yes, but it does not lessen the vividness of Lady Dare’s dress, a pink silk affair, that is, quite honestly, jaw-dropping. And the elegant, long, willowy body of Lady Dare carrying it?
Striking.
She’s the epitome of wild and carefree. She’s out alone after dark unapologetically in a dress that could light up the entire square. I’m jealous. I hardly want to admit it, but I am.
I watch, my breath held, as she walks with confidence across the cobblestones and the hackney coach leaves. My back straightens when I notice in which direction she is heading. She opens the gate, it creaks a little, and then she breezes up the path to the front door of the Duke of Chester’s home with confidence and poise I am not sure I like. I find my eyes scanning every window, looking for candlelight beyond. I discover it in the bottom left-hand window. The window with the silk and taffeta draperies that were twitching earlier. Whatever could Lady Dare want with the Duke at this hour?
She takes the door knocker and hits it once. Just once. Then she steps back and waits, fiddling with her hair. My chest starts to squeeze, and I release my held breath on a rush, watching, waiting, and after a few tense moments, she steps forward and knocks again.
Again, only once.
I jump back when she looks over her shoulder, worried I’ll be seen. Will the Duke answer her late-night call? Is he home?
And again, what could be so urgent as to warrant a visit at this hour?
I know the answer to that question. Lady Dare is an adventuress. The Duke is, apparently, a libertine. They are perfect for each other. Unlike Frederick and me.
She knocks twice more – once each time, a secret knock? – before picking up the endless material of her skirt and spinning on a huff, leaving the Duke’s house sounding less than pleased.
So he is not home tonight? I should not be surprised. I imagine the night is young for the wily Duke. Exciting. I sigh down at the letter in my hands. Lady Dare delivers sensual promises. I deliver a letter that I stole. I quickly correct myself. I found the letter. That is what I shall tell him. I found the letter and I did not open it and read the contents. Who is A?
‘Oh, Eliza,’ I breathe, leaving the gardens and crossing the road, more confident now that I know he is not in residence, therefore I have no need to even attempt to explain myself. I can leave the letter and be on my way and he need never know it was I who returned it. If he’s realised it’s missing at all.
I open the gate, walk up to the door and place the letter down. The knocker on the door is a gold lion with an impressive mane and a stare as shrewd as the Duke’s. Deliberate? I expect so. But whereas the lion’s surface is shiny and polished, the Duke’s reputation is tarnished and spoiled. Dirty. And there is no space for dirt in my world, only, I must admit, in my father’s newspaper. One must remain as squeaky clean as this gold lion here. This handsome, proud, fierce lion. ‘Imagine if one was as brave as a lion.’
I shake my head and my wild thoughts away, and turn, taking precisely two steps, before I become still again when I hear the sound of a bolt sliding.
Oh blast.
My shoulders rise, my eyes darting in the darkness, ice gliding across my skin, as the door creaks open. I deliberate for an age, tousling with my conflict. I want to turn round. I also do not, because that would be to reveal myself, therefore reveal who is returning something personal to him.
But I am fighting a force far greater than my restraint or sensibility, my body tense, trying to resist the magnetic pull. I want to see him again. I’m shaking terribly, bracing myself for what I might find.
I spin round, just as the door closes, and disappointment envelops me, for the opportunity to melt under his devastating green stare has been lost. The letter is gone. So is he.
He ignored Lady Dare’s call, a woman who would undoubtedly bend to his will, if he so demanded it.
But answered mine.
I slowly back away from the door, my wide eyes darting.
What does that mean?
I pause for thought for a moment, turning away from the house and pulling my cape in closer. I am assuming he saw my face. Knew it was I.
Or perhaps he did not.
Chapter 5
I did not sleep one wink that night. Nor the next. I expect I will fail to fall into a slumber on this night, too, for my mind is racing. After breakfast, Father, suffering the after-effects of another excessive night at the gentleman’s club, leaves the breakfast room with Frank, retiring to his study to read his newspaper and discuss business, and Mother announces that she will be hosting a dinner party tomorrow evening. ‘I must buy a new dress,’ she declares, finishing her coffee. ‘And a hat. Perhaps some boots too.’ With that, she stands and leaves with Emma following.