Duke of Disrepute (Dukes of Distinction #3) - Alexa Aston Page 0,77
you.”
Elise took a deep breath and then entered the small parlor off the foyer. Lord Ivy stood by the window, his hands behind his back. He cut a graceful figure but knowing what she did about him, she had no wish to be in his company.
He turned and said, “Ah, Lady Ruthersby. You are now home. I suppose all those suitors I saw leaving waited in vain.”
“Good afternoon, my lord. I felt I needed to speak with you in person. I would prefer that you no longer call upon me.”
“At whose request?” he demanded.
“Mine.”
He crossed the room and stood in front of her. “I’m sure Treadwell is behind this. That man is a liar and a scoundrel. Whatever he told you about me, don’t believe it.”
“In my experience, I have found His Grace to be very truthful and he assures me he has reformed from his former days.”
“Your experience,” he said, his gaze boring into her.
Elise felt her cheeks blaze and said, “It is not what you think. I am merely friends with His Grace.”
He studied her a moment. “Have you kissed him? No, don’t answer that. I can tell you have.” He grasped her elbows. “You need to know what a proper kiss is.”
His mouth came down hard on hers. Elise struggled to get away and knew he was too large and overwhelming to succeed. Instead, she became as a dead fish, not moving. He thrust his tongue into her mouth. She remained motionless, not responding, even though disgust rose within her. He broke the kiss.
“I would like you to leave.”
He glared at her. “Oh, I’ll do more than leave. A few well-placed words tonight in a handful of selected ears—and you’ll be ruined, Lady Ruthersby. Even Treadwell won’t want you anymore.”
Panic filled her. If gossip spread about her, she wouldn’t be able to counter it. A man’s word would always be believed above a woman’s. Lord Ivy’s lies would spread like wildfire and she would have no chance of securing a husband.
Unless she could do so tonight. Of all the men who’d called upon her, Viscount Dorsley seemed the most interested—and had the most to gain. A widower, he’d been left with two small girls and was eager for an heir. If Elise could speak with him tonight and let him know she would be happy for a quick match between them, it wouldn’t matter what gossip Lord Ivy let loose.
That wouldn’t be fair to Lord Dorsley, though. If she didn’t inform him of the potential gossip, he might make and then quickly break their engagement. A broken engagement was always the kiss of death for a woman in Polite Society, no matter which party ended the arrangement. She decided she would speak to the viscount at tonight’s ball and let him know malicious things were being said about her and then let him decide if he still might be interested in pursuing marriage with her. If not, she couldn’t imagine what would happen to her and Claire.
She looked up at the viscount. An evil smile spread across his handsome face. “Of course, I wouldn’t have to say anything at all.”
“At what price?” she asked, knowing whatever he said she’d be unwilling to pay.
“Why, you could wed me,” he said smoothly.
“Get out,” she ordered brusquely.
He released her, his expression now grim. “You’ve dug your own grave, my lady.” He brushed past her, leaving Elise alone, her throat thick with unshed tears.
Smithson came in. “Is everything all right, Lady Ruthersby?”
She nodded, too emotional to speak, and left the room. Going to her bedchamber, she lay on her bed and wept.
Suddenly, someone shook her shoulder.
“My lady, you must rise and dress for the ball.”
It was the parlor maid who had helped ready her the past two nights. Elise sat up, feeling groggy, realizing she must have fallen asleep.
“Which gown tonight, my lady? This one?”
“The midnight blue,” she said, rising and going to her dressing table. One glance told her she would need to repair her hair and so she began removing the pins.
The maid helped her from her day gown and into the one for the ball.
“I thought the rose gown was lovely but you’re a sight for sore eyes in this, my lady,” the servant proclaimed. “Better hurry with your hair, though. Lady Ruthersby’s as mad as a hornet and causing all kinds of trouble tonight. If you’re not downstairs in time, you’ll be left behind.”
Elise quickly wound her hair into place and secured the pins in it. She