Page 21 of Duke with a Desire

“I half expected to learn you had fled to the Continent instead of joining me for dinner,” he drawled, confirming her suspicion.

A reluctant smile crossed her lips. “That would be a long way to travel just to escape one dinner.”

But it was more than dinner she’d have been trying to escape, and they both knew it. The truth simmered between them, unspoken.

“I am heartily glad you find dining with me preferable to a voyage by train and sea,” he quipped.

She swallowed hard to suppress the small bubble of surprised laughter that threatened to emerge. Why did he have to forever be so charming? His black hair fell over his brow and in too-long, tousled waves that nearly brushed his shoulders as he moved away from the fireplace. Her heart beat faster with each step he took, the distance between them growing smaller by the second.

“Perhaps not preferable,” she said, striving to keep a cool tone. “But certainly, more convenient.”

“Ah, now I am a convenience.” He stopped when he was close enough to touch. “I reckon that may be a trifle better than being Beelzebub.”

“I don’t know. You did look quite dapper with a tail.”

He chuckled, the sound low and velvety, and she cursed herself for being the cause of his levity. She would hear his laughter in her sleep.

“And don’t forget the horns protruding from my head.”

Ophelia bit her lip. She had intentionally represented him as beastly as a distraction for herself. When the prize had been announced, she had hoped he would be so insulted he would have no choice but to choose another winner. Instead, he had been amused and insistent upon selecting her anyway.

“You must admit the horns were well-formed,” she said, trying not to inhale too deeply, lest she bring his decadent scent into her lungs.

But it was too late. Citrus and pine and shaving soap should not serve to weaken her knees, and yet, they did.

He cocked his head, considering her with an inscrutable gaze that made her wish he wasn’t wearing his mask, that she might read the rest of his expression. “I can assure you that every part of me is well formed, my lady.”

Heat blossomed low in her belly and danced along her spine. She had led herself into that trap, hadn’t she?

“I do believe everyone in the library is more than aware of how well you are formed, sir,” she said pointedly.

His dimples faded. “There is only one woman who was present in the library earlier whose eyes I wanted on me.”

The heat set off sparks that skittered over her skin. “If you wished for Theodora’s eyes, then you should have declared her the winner,” she said, intentionally misunderstanding him.

Because it was so much easier than acknowledging the truth that was burning beneath the surface of their every interaction.

“It’s not Theodora’s eyes I’m speaking of, and you know it.”

The intensity of his eyes was almost too much. She needed to look away and gather her composure, and yet there was nothing else in this room that she wanted to see more.

“How do you know Theodora?” she asked, trying to distract him with her curiosity.

“She has a reputation that half of London is likely familiar with.”

Oh dear. Ophelia hadn’t known that.

“But she is so helpful and friendly.”

Prestwick raised a brow. “No doubt lionesses appear docile and sweet before they tear their prey apart as well.”

His quiet observation took her by surprise. “Why would I be her prey?”

“I do believe everyone is that woman’s prey.”

It was a rather uncharitable assessment of her new friend, which made Ophelia wonder if she had been wrong to allow Theodora into her inner circle. Ordinarily, Ophelia never permitted anyone close. She didn’t know whether it had been Theodora’s gregarious nature, Ophelia’s own anonymity, given her silken mask, or the fact that Theodora had declared them long-lost sisters that had more lulled her into a sense of security.

But now, Prestwick’s words were giving her pause.