Billionaire Flawed 1(260)

“Here,” the Duke said carelessly. “I wish to feel your hand in mine.”

He held his hand out. I looked at it for a few moments, heart thundering now in my chest. I knew it was wrong and yet I wanted very badly to have my hand in his. “I will hold your hand,” she said. “But we must be sure to retract them quickly if somebody ventures into the garden.”

He nodded and then took my hand in his, placing both hands upon my thigh. This was the zenith of improper behavior. I was aware of that then and I am aware of it now. Yet I was disinclined to take my hand away because the warmth and the closeness were intoxicating. We said nothing for a few minutes, just sat there and shared each other’s warmth, and then he turned and faced me with ice-blue eyes that seem to look into me. To say that they looked into my soul would sound melodramatic. However, that is what it felt like at the time.

He smiled, and his strongly made face opened to me. “I have sought this for a long time,” he said.

“What is that, Duke?”

“Somebody with whom I could sit and hold hands and not have it be a cataclysmic event. Somehow I knew when I saw you in London that you were not like other women. It was in the way you carried yourself. You walked through the city, not like a star-struck woman, but almost like a man.” He winced. “That sounds monstrous, doesn’t it? I do not mean to call you manly. I merely mean to say that you, as far as I can tell, have shunned much of the extraneous womanliness that encumbers so many.”

I knew I could take offense if I wished, but I also knew exactly what he meant. Almost involuntarily, I squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I knew what you meant,” I said. “You do not need to worry.”

He smiled at me again. “I want to see you again, after today,” he said. “We must contrive a reason for you to stay. I have guest quarters where you and your maidservant may abide for a time, if you wish.”

This idea was glorious to me. I could stay within his proximity. I could be with him for a longer time. The obstacle was Father. He was under the impression that I could be back on the morrow. “I would have to send word to Father,” I said.

“I could do that,” the Duke said. “If I were to contrive some party or gathering. Yes, that is what I will do. I will throw a grand party five days from now. If I write to your father personally, I do not see how he can object. I am, after all, a Duke.” He said this with none of the condescension or social pretentiousness which is so common in this sphere. He merely spoke the truth. “I would send the missive by messenger,” he went on. “Your father would learn immediately, and so any social missteps would be alleviated. If he wishes for your return, of course you must go. But I do not think he will. What is your answer, Sarah? Please, say yes!”

He gazed into my eyes imploringly. I nearly reached out to touch his face, but I restrained myself. All around us life was happening, and yet I felt utterly disconnected from it all. Life was no happening out there; it was happening here.

“I will stay,” I said. I hastened to add: “But you must write to Father this instant. Make it clear that it is for the party, and stress the social benefits.”

“I shall,” the Duke said, releasing my hand. “I shall write to him this instant. Will you come with me, Sarah? I will go to my study, and there are books there that I think might interest you.”

At the mention of books I had stood as though by rote. “I will come,” I said, as naturally and unexcitedly as I was able.

The Duke nodded and began to walk. After a moment, I followed, not so close as to cause murmur, but not so distant as to be strictly proper.







The main body of the guests still being occupied with the festivities, the library was a private meeting place for the Duke and me. He led me into a chamber a Greek philosopher would be happy to stand in for a time. It was not so much the architecture of the room that provoked a profound response within me, but the character of the room. Everywhere one looked, books lay upon the shelves, hundreds and hundreds of them. I have never seen so many books in my life. I felt my mind turning, as though twisting around in a foolish attempt to see all the books at once.

The Duke walked before me, and then turned and smiled. “It is acceptable?” he said.

“It is—” I could not form words that would properly explain the glory of this room. Only a low light filtered in through slatted windows at the top, dusty with the age of books. It was every romantic dream I had ever envisioned in my youth. So rarely do we humble creatures get to really live our dreams.

The Duke laughed softly and walked through the library as carelessly as if such grandeur were the norm for him; and, I reflected, it must be. After a breathless moment I followed him to a large oak desk and chair, upon which he sat and began to write a letter. He wrote it quickly, and then handed it to me to read. It was simple and plain and undeniable. He, a Duke, wished to keep the Archer daughter here for a time. It was a great honor. I knew right away that Father would agree. I handed him the letter back and he nodded and sealed it within an envelope.