Page 67 of If the Duke Demands

She blinked rapidly, forcing back tears as she weaved through the chairs to put as much distance between them in the crowded gallery as she could. Even now as she made her way to the front of the room, she felt the heat of his gaze on her back, with the same burning intensity as if his hands were touching her. She shivered and squeezed her eyes shut.

She’d been such a fool! For antagonizing him last night in the carriage and then going to his room…for dressing up in the masquerade that started it all…for wanting him to accept her just as she was. And after last night, a not-so-tiny part of her had also idiotically hoped he would forget his plans to marry a society daughter and consider her instead. But nothing had changed, except that she was now hopelessly in love with a man who was impossible for her.

She glanced around the gallery at all the young ladies and their marriage-minded mamas who protected their virtues like bulldogs. Miranda wanted to laugh at them. She could have told them the real truth about sex, that its dangers lay not in falling to ruin but in falling in love.

She and Sebastian had to end all this foolishness in which they’d entangled themselves. There was no other choice. They would be as they were before, only friends and neighbors and nothing more. It would be difficult—sweet heavens, it would be heartrending!—but it had to be done. Starting right now.

But when she drew a deep breath and turned around, Sebastian was gone.

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

Sebastian strode into Park Place in the same foul mood in which he’d left it earlier. But now, he reeked of cigar smoke and whiskey from hours spent in search of distraction at Boodle’s with Robert and Quinn, where he’d gone directly after leaving the museum. And after Miranda’s rejection.

“Good evening, Your Grace.” Saunders greeted him at the door with a stoic nod, the experienced butler knowing better than to comment on either his angry glower or the state of his appearance. “Shall I call for Barlow?”

Sebastian waved the man off. “I’ll undress myself tonight. I don’t want to be disturbed.”

His fingers tore at his cravat as he bounded up the stairs toward his rooms— No, nothisrooms. His father’s rooms. He grimaced. Not even his father’s, because Father had occupied Park Place for only two years. Theduke’srooms, that’s all they were, the man who used them as interchangeable as the sheets on the bed. And now Sebastian was simply the one shouldering the weight of it. A weight he’d never wanted less than tonight.

Damn Miranda and her cutting remarks about primroses! Didn’t she realize the impossible situation he’d been placed into? That he had to put the dukedom first before everything, including his own wants and desires? What did the infuriating woman want from him, for God’s sake, to marry him herself?

Miranda Hodgkins as Duchess of Trent. Good God, what would Father say to that?

Andthatwas the problem. Because a part of him that he didn’t dare acknowledge wanted exactly that. Even knowing how wrong Miranda was for him, she was also perfectly right. For those precious few hours when he was with her, he felt liberated from the rest of his life, and carrying on with the title’s demands seemed bearable. When she smiled at him or made him laugh, he relaxed and could be himself, without fear of judgment or recrimination, in a way he could with no one else. She simply made him…happy. And knowing how fleeting that happiness was made him miserable.

He opened the door to his sitting room and stopped.

For a moment, so did his heart.

Miranda sat in his reading chair by the fire, wearing not the masquerade gown this time but a plain, cotton night rail covering her from wrist to neck and surely all the way down to her ankles if not for the cashmere throw draped across her legs as she sat with her bare feet tucked beneath her. Her long hair hung over her shoulder in a loose braid secured with a green ribbon, and she gazed at him through spectacles perched on her pert little nose, reading Miss Bradford’s book on her lap. She couldn’t have appeared more different from both a society lady and Lady Rose if she’d tried. Yet she looked for all the world as if she belonged right there, as if she waited like that every night for him to come home.

His breath hitched at the sight of her, all comfortable and ready for bed. What a fool he was for spending those last hours tolerating his brothers’ antics at Boodle’s when he could have been right here, putting her to bed.

He closed the door and drawled with a half grin, “I didn’t recognize you without your masquerade costume.”

She smiled nervously, but the teasing shine in her eyes made his chest warm. “I can leave a calling card and come back in the morning if you’d like, to be properly announced.”

Not a chance in the world.He wasn’t letting her out of his sight tonight, not for one moment.

“How do you keep getting in here?” He stepped toward her and dropped his unwanted cravat to the floor. Although truly, he didn’t care how she got here. He was simply damn glad that she was. “Should I have a talk with Saunders about security? After all, if a wisp of a woman can keep sneaking inside my bedchamber to torment me, how safe can I be from someone who really wishes to do me harm?”

Her smile brightened at his sardonic teasing, her nervousness vanishing. She gave a soft giggle, and his shoulders lightened with relief. Ah, that was better. That was the Miranda he knew and lov—

No.Notlove.

He cared about her; he would admit to that, and even now the warmth of her presence invaded his chest and eased the tension from his shoulders. And certainly he’d felt a reckless desire to be with her tonight, even though he’d promised her that they would do nothing more than talk, if that was what she wanted, although he now prayed that she wanted far more than conversation. But that didn’t mean love. Itcouldn’t. Because loving Miranda would be torture when he had to pledge his life to another.

“I have a key to the terrace door,” she answered. Unaware of the turmoil churning inside him, her emerald eyes shined in the firelight and only served to draw him even more strongly to her. “Josie thought it would be a good idea to keep a spare one at Audley House since the family is spread across two households for the season.” Private amusement touched her voice as she added, “To make it easier for all of us to come and go as we please.”

He nodded with mock solemnity, appreciating his sister’s foresight more than he could ever tell her. “Wise woman, my sister.”

“Very,” she sighed deeply. The neck of the night rail slipped down her shoulder and revealed barely an inch more of creamy skin, but that was all it took for his cock to stir to life. Her head tilted curiously as she watched him shrug out of his jacket and toss it away after the cravat. “Do you always undress in your sitting room?”

“No.”The faster to ravish you tonight…but he thought better of admitting that aloud, for fear of frightening her away. “I have a dressing room off my bedroom.” He nodded toward the open pocket doors to the left and the room beyond, where he could just make out the outline of his bed in the shadows. And then, because something dark and punishing inside him couldn’t help it, he motioned to a set of closed connecting doors on the opposite wall from his bedroom. “That will be the duchess’s room through there, which also has a dressing room of its own.” He was thrilled to the point of aching that she was here tonight, but best to remind her of the rules upfront. Before she expected what he could never give. “Which also happens to be bigger than mine.”

“As well it should be,” she agreed quietly. “After all, she’ll be the duchess. You’re only the duke.”

He gave her his best arrogant grin. “I think you missed something when you read Debrett’s. I’ll outrank my duchess.”