Page 30 of The Odyssean Duke

He inclined his head. “My lady.”

Mrs. Poleman stood behind him, her face the very picture of delight. “I shall return with tea,” she said.

Then, she was gone. Evelina was alone with the Duke of Rothbury once more. Her heart fluttered madly against her ribcage. “Good evening, Your Grace.”

“My lady. Shall we sit?”

Evelina sank onto the settee. She had not been alone in her house with a man since her husband died, and even though the man had been dead for some time, Evelina still found herselfwith the strange, curling sensation that he loomed over her, a specter that refused to be vanquished.

His Grace sat on the other end of the settee, and Evelina’s muscles tensed. She could not inhale without taking in the scent of his cologne. “You are early,” Evelina said.

The Duke of Rothbury smirked. “I confess that I could wait no longer.”

“Oh,” she breathed.

Silently, Evelina chastised herself for being unable to find something more eloquent to say.

“You have nothing to say?” His Grace asked.

Evelina forced a tentative smile. “I am certain I will think of something.”

The duke chuckled. “Could it be that you are still distracted by our kiss? Are you wondering if something like that might happen again tonight?”

“You are too bold, Your Grace,” Evelina said.

His eyes gleamed with amusement. “My boldness was often an asset in battle.”

“Was your rakish charm also an asset?”

“Sometimes,” he said. “However, I find it to be more useful in London than at sea. There were decidedly fewer ladies aboard my ship.”

“I imagine so,” she said.

His Grace glanced around him, as if seeing the room for the first time. “Do you often accept unchaperoned male visitors in this room?”

“I will not even dignify that question with a response. What manner of a woman do you take me for?”

“An unconventional one,” he replied. “Perhaps you have spent the past few days entertaining other options or attempting to seduce another man, as you did at the tavern that night.”

“No,” Evelina said. “I seldom host anyone, except for the ladies of the Corset Chronicles Club.”

His Grace raised a brow. “What is that? A gathering of bluestockings?”

“Something like that. We engage in intellectual conversations.” Evelina paused, considering him. “Sometimes, we bemoan the poor state of Englishmen.”

“Poor state?”

“Indeed. We spend a considerable amount of time condemning selfish, arrogant men who believe they are God’s gift to all women,” Evelina continued. “Being such a man?—”

“My lady!” His Grace interrupted, laughing. “What an unkind insinuation to offer a man who has approached you with only noble intentions!”

“Noble intentions?” she asked. “You have sworn to lay with me as often as is needed to produce an heir! That does not sound like a man who has only noble intentions.”

“No?” he asked, leaning nearer to her.

His Grace’s eyes darted down. Was it her imagination, or was he looking at her lips? Evelina’s pulse quickened as he drew nearer and nearer. When he was a hairsbreadth away, her lips parted. She waited for him to kiss her, a knot of anticipation in her chest.

Instead, he laughed. The Duke of Rothbury drew back, smirking. “I believe it is you who has ignoble intentions, my lady,” he said. “Look at you—trying to kiss a man to whom you are not even wed!”