Eternally Seduced(117)

Without looking at Mary, he took out a card from his wallet and handed  it to the other girl. "Please call me if there's anything you feel I may  be able to help with."

Camille said brightly, "Of course." She looked down at the card, her  eyes widening when she realized she was speaking to a duke. Dukes were a  subject she recently became acquainted with, ever since Kate Middleton  became a duchess.

When she looked up at Rathe, her eyes were wide with awe.

He pretended not to notice it. "Thank you very much, Miss---"

She supplied eagerly, "Camille Wilson."

"Miss Wilson," he ended with a brief smile and took her hand, placing  the gentlest kiss on her knuckle and causing Mary to all but swoon.

From the bed, he heard the tiniest gasp tumble past Mary's lips.

Rathe Wellesley wasn't just a smooth talker. He was a … was a smooth  mover, too  –  the very kind of playboy her stepfather liked to warn her  about. He was definitely everything she should avoid if she wanted her  life to proceed smoothly, but for some reason all she could think of  right now was how much she hoped he wouldn't find himself attracted to  Camille like all the men she knew. She did not understand why she hoped  so. She just … did.

"Please call me Camille." Camille was fluttering her lashes like crazy.

Rathe made himself look politely charmed. "Thank you, Camille." He  glanced at his watch. "I'm afraid I must go now as I've an engagement to  attend. Good evening, ladies." And then he was gone, closing the door  quietly behind him, leaving a void so startling in its yawning emptiness  that for a moment Mary ceased to breathe.

He was gone.

Camille let out a loud sigh. "What a hottie."

The words had Mary blinking herself back to reality. Seeing that her  friend was waiting for an answer, she shrugged, hoping it would make her  appear indifferent.

Her friend clucked her tongue. "You can't fool me with that one."

"I'm not trying to fool you."

Camille exclaimed, "Oh my God, and you're jealous, too!"

Mary mentally whistled another song.

Camille rushed to her friend's bed to give Mary a quick hug. "You are so cute when you're jealous!"

"I'm. Not. Jealous."

Camille only laughed. "Whatever you say, Mary. But I promise, I'm not  the kind of conscienceless slut everyone says I am. It's hands off your  Dukeness from here."

She tried to stop herself from smiling but failed. "It's His Grace, Cam."

"Okay, I promise that I won't be flirting with His Grace---"

"He's not my anything--"

"Well there's something between you two and I can prove it to you."

Mary was startled. "How?"

"He's the first non-nerd I know that didn't cause you to stammer."  Camille gave her a smug look. "So think about that, smarty pants, and  tell me I'm not right."

The truth of her friend's words hit her, and as Camille left for her  second date of the day, Mary did think about it, and she tried to  convince herself that the other girl was not right. So she didn't  stammer in Rathe's presence. It only meant … it only meant---

No.

She did not like Rathe Wellesley.

And if Camille thought she had proof, well … Mary could come up with her own proof, too!         

     



 

Carefully scooting off of her bed and wincing every time she  accidentally jarred her injured ankle, she hobbled towards her study  table and collapsed on the seat with a loud, relieved sigh. The bed had  only been less than six feet away, but it already felt like she had run a  mile.

Reaching for her laptop, she switched it open and with a few clicks, she  found the website she was after. Mary studied the schedule of events  before her carefully.

Tomorrow …

Yes, tomorrow. She could do it. All she had to do was buy a ticket, get  herself a pair of crutches, and she would be safely on her way.  Tomorrow, she'd have proof to show to Camille that she and the duke were  never to be, not when she already had a guy she liked.

****

Several thousands of miles away, Bartholomew threw away his half-empty  shot glass across the room. As it hit the wall and exploded into pieces,  he imagined it was what would happen to the faceless man making a move  on his stepdaughter once Bartholomew found out who he was.

Sinners, the both of them!

He had secretly installed a spy cam in Mary's dorm room, making sure he  watched and listened to its playbacks every day so he could masturbate  during the rare times she undressed herself in her bedroom. He really  shouldn't have let her go off to college in the first place, Bartholomew  thought furiously as he paced his hotel suite restlessly. But then,  what could he have done? She had won the damn scholarship and forcing  Mary to refuse it would have made the busybodies in their town talk.

He had to act soon. If he did not, he had a feeling his stepdaughter  would give away her virginity to an unworthy man and sin against God by  having sex before marriage.

He had to save her from herself, Bartholomew decided. And if it meant  taking her virginity himself, well  –  she should be thankful for that. He  would do the sinning for her, out of his great love for her.

Snatching the receiver, he quickly made a call to book the next  available flight back to Florida. It was time to give his dear  stepdaughter a surprise visit.





Chapter Three





"A poetry reading," Rathe repeated disdainfully the next day, feeling  like a bloody idiot as he stood in front of the locked and supposedly  empty dorm room of Mary Ashton. He had even brought her flowers, Rathe  thought in disgust. He couldn't remember the last time he bought flowers  for someone  –  maybe for Alyssa during Mother's Day a few years back?

Seeing the irritated expression on Rathe Wellesley's face, Camille let  out a silent sigh of good-natured envy. Oh yeah, the duke was totally  into her friend. And just like her friend, the duke seemed to  deliberately pretend that it wasn't the case. What an adorably idiotic  pair these two made!

"Would you happen to know where this … event is taking place?"

She nodded. "I was invited by the Professor, too, but unlike Mary I was  honest enough to refuse since I know it's going to be a total snooze  fest." She rattled off the address and was impressed when he simply  nodded afterwards, his memory apparently good enough to record the  information on his mind.

Camille let out another quiet sigh, thoroughly impressed now. The Duke  of Flanders wasn't just gorgeous and sexy, but he was so smart, too  –  in  a really hot way.

The duke thanked Camille briskly after that, and watching his back as he  headed to the staircase, she wondered if she had done the right thing.  For one thing, she hadn't let the duke know that Professor Byron, the  event's organizer, was also Mary's crush since her first day in uni.  Also, there was the matter of the admission, which required …

"You need me to read poetry in order to be admitted?" Rathe repeated  incredulously half an hour later, standing at the doorway of a  hole-in-the-wall club that looked like a hippie's idea of paradise with  its flowery wall art and wind chimes made of recycled paper.

"Yeah, man. You go straight to the stage from here." The other man had  long greasy hair and still had his shades on even though it was already  dark. He looked more like a drugged-out version of John Lennon than the  establishment's head of security.

"And if I don't?"

"We kick you out when you don't speak a word in your first five seconds  on stage." The guy crossed his arms. "So what's it gonna be, dude?"

Five minutes later and Rathe was inside the club, which was even more  dreadful than he feared. There were more of the ghastly floral art on  the walls and the overhead lights were either incandescent or  green-tinted, making Rathe feel like he was inside the spaceship of an  herbivorous alien.

The stage was not a stage at all, but  –  as far as Rathe could tell  –  was  no more than a huge block of wood with a microphone stand on top. What  the bloody hell had he gotten himself into? And all for … what? To spend  more time with a girl who was clearly not in his league, did not share  his interests, and---

From the shadowy hallway leading directly to the "stage", Rathe finally spotted Mary in the crowd.

---was on a bloody date with another man?

Rathe's teeth snapped together. She was seated in what was obviously the  center table next to a man who was about his age and dressed in tweed.  His hair was brushed neatly back, his eyes hidden behind a pair of nerdy  glasses.

A professor, Rathe guessed.

A professor who knew that he was with a student who was infatuated with him.

Next to the professor was Mary, who looked sweet and demure in a  lavender dress with a modest neckline. Half of her hair was pulled up  while the rest fell against her back. She even had makeup on, her lips  looking pink and glossy, and she had a goofy smile on her face as she  listened to whatever rubbish her professor was feeding her.