Billionaire Flawed 1(252)

“Laughter does not come easily to me,” she said.

“Okay,” the Duke said. “What does come easily to you, my lady?”

Elizabeth tried to think of something, but nothing was magnificent: nothing was worthy of a scene like this. But then, she decided, did she want to be the sort of woman who pretends her life is grand and adventurous when in fact it was rather dull? Did she want to be a Charlotte-type woman? “I care for the pigs and chickens,” she said. “And I read a lot. Father did not sell our books, so I still have many to choose from. There are some Greek scripts, and I have taught myself the basics. Enough to get along with some simpler texts, anyway. I love to read. I forget everything when I read. I do not feel as though I’m even in the same world when I read. The pages eat me.”

The Duke nodded. “And lots of adventures happen in these books, do they?”

“Oh, yes,” Elizabeth said. “Adventures of all sorts.”

“What about solders-cum-dukes wooing beautiful ladies?”

Elizabeth smiled. “I have not read that tale yet, my lord.”

The Duke placed his hand on Elizabeth’s leg. Elizabeth felt the heat from his hand move up her thigh, up, toward her private area. She knew she should bat his hand away, or tell him to move it away from her. She was not that kind of woman. But he was not trying anything else, and his hand really did feel quite nice there. They sat like that for a time, and then Elizabeth laid her hand over the Duke’s. He squeezed her leg, and together watched the course of a bird as it ducked from the clouds, into the trees, and then back up into the clouds again.

“Will you dine with me tonight, my lady?” the Duke said.

“Yes, of course,” Elizabeth replied. “It would be my pleasure.”

The Duke stood and together they walked back through the gardens. Elizabeth did not know how to feel about all of this. One side of her was ecstatic and overly happy that she was here, in the Duke’s gardens, with this captivating man. Another half of her was wary. She had never dreamt, when she was among the pigs and chickens, that she would be in the Duke’s Castle alone.

Anything could happen here, she thought, with a mixture of excitement and fear. Anything at all.







That evening Elizabeth donned one of the dresses the Duke had lent her – that he had left waiting for her in the dresser – and joined him in the dining room for a dinner of duck and potato. They ate in silence for a time, and then the Duke ordered wine and drank greedily. Elizabeth, who had never had lots of wine, decided to indulge for the first time tonight. She drank down a large glass and then another, and soon the room had become unfocused. The Duke laughed. “I believe you are drunk,” he said.

“Me! No, my lord, never!”

He laughed again, and Elizabeth laughed with him. The sound of her own laughter startled her, so rarely did she hear it. It was like listening to the laughter of a stranger. She sounded happier than she had sounded in a long time, this stranger; and Elizabeth was happy for her. After dinner, the Duke took her arm and led her from the dining room.

He led her through the Castle, past old paintings of previous Dukes and Ladies, past ornate suits of armor, past mounted animal heads, to a cavernous room. The room was dim, and the Duke rushed around lighting torches in the walls. When the torches plumed their orange light, Elizabeth took in a quick, frantic breath. The room was lined with shelf upon shelf, and upon each shelf sat dozens and dozens – or hundreds and hundreds – of books. Perhaps it was the wine, or the shock, but Elizabeth threw herself down in a nearby chair and looked around at the books.

“This is incredible,” she said. “This is absolutely incredible. How many are there? There must be thousands!”

“You like it?” the Duke said. “I am glad. This library is yours, if you will accept my proposal.”

“Your proposal?”

The Duke stood behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “I wish you to be my wife, Elizabeth Hawk. Yes, we do not know each other well at all, but that need not hinder us. How many men and women become husband and wife simply through the exchange of letters? We are steps above them already, as one hour spent in person is worth one-hundred letters. I also believe it will be beneficial for your family. Of course, I will settle your father’s debts.”

“But why?” Elizabeth blurted, the only thing she could think to say. “You could have anybody.”

“I do not want anybody.” The Duke’s voice had not altered from the crisp deadpan monotone, in which no emotion was heard. “I want you. You are not like other women. You have not got their pretentiousness, their entitlement. You enjoy the quiet and nature and that is enough for me.”