Page 89 of How to Tempt a Duke

A creak sounded behind her. Eleanor was startled from her thoughts and spun around.

At first she saw nothing, and then she noted where the wall had parted to reveal yet another hidden door across the room. Not the one she’d entered through.

She swallowed down a prickle of fear. Surely Charles hid behind it, in an attempt to surprise her? She pulled it open and found the passage empty. A chill crept up her spine. She frowned to herself at her childish fears and closed the door firmly.

The chill did not abate. In fact, her skin practically crawled with primal apprehension. Not silly, nor foolish, but a true and persistent warning.

She turned slowly—and choked back a scream. A man stood not more than ten feet in front of her. Not Charles, but a man she recognized nonetheless.

The Earl of Ledsey.

“Hugh...?” she managed.

He curled his lip. “I heard he’d married you. The servants talk, you know.” A muscle worked in his jaw, where he clenched his teeth. “I could’ve married you.”

“You have Lady Alice.” She backed away from him.

“Everyone wanted her. How could I resist?” Hugh smirked. “But then you came in as an Ice Queen at the masquerade ball...and you were magnificent.”

He stepped closer and Eleanor realized she had no way to back up further.

“And then he began sniffing around you and I knew you had them still.”

Her mind reeled. Had them still? The Earl had lost his mind. She edged to the side and he followed her step in a mocking, macabre dance.

“Did you like my tulips?” he asked. “You never once even looked outside to see me there, watching you. Imagine my surprise, though, when you went to that whore’s house.” Hugh laughed—a scoffing, snort of a sound.

“Don’t you dare call Lottie that!” Eleanor concentrated all her fear and her anger into grabbing a statue of a gold elephant and hurling it at him. The thing was heavier than she’d anticipated and veered wildly off course, before landing with a muted thunk on the carpet several inches from his feet.

Hugh tilted his head at this inept attack. “A whore is exactly what she is. And you’re no better—married or not.”

Eleanor spun on her heel and darted away from him. She’d only taken a few steps when she felt a sharp rip of pain at her scalp, and found herself wrenched backward by her hair. She gave a surprised scream and was thrown to the floor.

Hugh stood over her and placed the sole of one immaculately polished Hessian on her chest. “This will all be over soon and I’ll finally have what I have needed from you since the beginning—the journals.”

He drew a pistol from his jacket, then lowered it and aimed it directly at her face.

Chapter Thirty-One

Charles took the stairs two at a time and broke into a sprint on the landing, racing toward Eleanor’s rooms, where he bolted through the door.

Her maid shrieked and dropped the ivory-handled brush she held. At least she hadn’t thrown it.

“Did you hear that?” Charles asked. “A heavy thud.”

The maid shook her head.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

“N-next door, in your room.”

Charles ran back into the hall and found his own door locked from within.

His heart was sucked into his throat.

He darted back into Eleanor’s room, not stopping until he was at the concealed door.

Amelia followed behind him. “Your Grace...?”