Page 7 of The Duke’s Christmas Rejection

“No need. But I thank you for your consideration. She will either step in line or find herself at the mercy of my strap. This insolence has gone on far too long.” Despite the resolute tone in his voice, Redleigh looks far too uncomfortable, as if the idea is abhorrent to him, but in ways that have nothing to do with discipline.

It’s not a foreign feeling. The same uneasy arousal clenches my insides every time I think about taking the clumsy, errant Miss Cynthia in hand. Perhaps it is the same with him.

Needing to break the tense silence, I stand up. “I am in accord.”

“Excellent!” Foxford laughs, reaching out to shake my hand. “May the best bachelor win!”

Chapter 5

Cynthia

As everyone gathers in the main hall, I cast my gaze about, seeking Norhaven; however, he doesn’t seem to be in attendance. Unease curls through my midsection as my mind races. Did I ruin his jacket beyond repair? Has something happened to him?

Eventually, a figure shifts from the shadows, revealing the duke in question. He looks positively resplendent with his black hair tousled about his head, almost as if awakening from a deep slumber. Again, heat licks up my cheeks as I push the thought of him in his bedchambers from my mind.

When he glances over at me, however, the heat drifts somewhere far lower, bringing about that maddening tingle between my thighs once more. I cannot fathom what it is that ails me, but it only seems to happen when the duke is nearby. Does my body know him to be my true love match? Nothing else seems to make any sense.

Before I can dip into a curtsy, acknowledging his interest, he turns away, jaw set into a firm line. Sorrow beats at my breasts as I sink back into the line, forcing my gaze away from him. Then he is still angry at me. Is there nothing I can do to make amends? If it’s coin he wants, I’ll have to find some way to procure it.

“All right, everyone,” Penelope shrieks, making me flinch. “We have all had our bout of fun, but now it is time for the bean and pea. I can tell you a lot of heart went into this cake.” She pauses, racing over to pull me into the center of the room.

My fingers shake as I allow her to drag me forward, keeping my eyes trained on the floor. The last thing I need is to bring attention back to me when all I want to do is forget this very night.

Penelope continues, oblivious of my discomfort. “Our very own Miss Cynthia has placed the pea, whereas I have placed the bean.” For a moment, she rambles on, extolling my virtues for anyone who will listen, even though there’s only one Alpha I care about taking notice. “Remember, those who get the bean and pea are king and queen of the night. So do please act accordingly, and if in enacting your roles, you happen to slide under some mistletoe, then so be it!”

Stifling a groan, I yank away from her and sink back into the shadows, my face ablaze. She has no inkling of the humiliation she just put me through. Now, all eyes are on me—curious gazes that follow my every move. Penelope all but said I was of a marrying mind and fair game.

But I’m not. I’m only open to one Alpha’s suit, and that’s Norhaven. It’s bad enough that he all but ignored me while we were playing other games, but this is far too much. Now, he looks upon me with scorn, as if my merits are merely window dressing to an empty head.

Penelope opens her mouth, about to say something else when the cook bustles in, followed by servants armed with trays. The men line up on one side of the room, and I follow the ladies, gathering on the opposite side. From out of every door, more servants and workers bustle in, taking their spots on either side.

No one speaks as the trays go by with everyone picking up a slice but me. As the servant pauses before me, I just can’t bring myself to grab a piece. Right now, I feel nothing but abject sorrow and humiliation. In fact, it would have been better if the duke did punish me. That way, I wouldn’t be carrying around his ire like a mantle.

“Grab your slice, Cyn,” Penelope hisses, grabbing the one closest to her. “Everyone gets one.”

“You do realize I actually don’t like fruit in my cake, right?” I lie, stalling for time.

With a heavy sigh, she grabs another slice and thrusts it into my hands. “Whether you like it or not is of no consequence. I just want to see if you manage to get the pea!”

The dreaded pea. What once had been something so exciting mere hours ago causes my head to pound and my stomach to churn. Nausea climbs up my throat as my nerves overtake me, causing the very idea of putting yet one more sugary morsel into my mouth revolting.

What’s there already sits like heavy lead, refusing to budge. Still, though, she continues to thrust the plate forward, garnering curious stares from onlookers. I don’t want to cause a spectacle, or heaven forbid, be exiled from the house for some reason, so I grab the plate and stare down at the cake. All around me, people bite down, casting out groans of dismay as their labors turn up empty. Glancing up, I catch the duke’s eye.

He locks his gaze with me, his countenance both serious and sullen. Just the heat of his stare makes my heart beat in my chest hard enough that I worry others will hear it. But I don’t dare look away. He’s mesmerizing, rooting me to the spot.

With slow, languid movements, he draws the cake to his lips, snaking his tongue out to wet his bottom lip. My stomach flips as I watch him devour the morsel. There’s something wholly inappropriate about how he’s eating it, but I haven’t the faintest notion what it is. All I know is that watching him seems to be the same as intruding on a private moment in which I have no business.

Turning my gaze back down to the cake, I ignore the burning of my body, determined to eat it, and quit this place. I’m sure I can feign a headache or some other malady that will allow me the freedom to slip out. But as my teeth sink into the cake, my heart stops.

The pea.

Looking up, I watch as the duke extracts the bean from his lips, scowling at it as if it is some curse put upon him. The plate shakes in my hands as I too pull the pea out and set it on the plate. Perhaps no one will notice. It’s such a small bean in comparison to his. I should be able to hide it easily.

“Oh what fortunate news! How is it that my friend has found the pea!”

Penelope’s exclamation ruins any chance of me slipping out of this situation unscathed. Before I can respond, she tugs on my hand, drawing me out into the center of the room. A servant takes my plate, leaving me with no form of defense, nothing with which I can hide behind.

“Come now,” she continues, circling me. “Someone must have found the bean. Who will dance with our beloved queen tonight?”