My Last Duchess (The Wildes of Lindow Castle #0.5) - Eloisa James Page 0,19

and ran off to take care of other tables.” He lowered his head and brushed his lips past hers. “Even drunk, I managed to remember that I had a family waiting at home.”

She dragged her hands down over taut muscles, thinking about men she’d seen working in fields of wheat. Men who weren’t peers. Men who had brawny chests and muscled thighs.

The idea of going to bed with him was terrifying. And fabulous.

“I’ll spend the night with you, Ophelia, but I won’t make love to you until you promise to marry me.”

She made a disappointed sound before she could stop herself.

He laughed, a joyful noise that echoed off oak trees muffled in snow.

“You’re probably right,” she said, straightening her back and wrinkling her nose at him. “I have never had the ambition to become a fallen woman.” She couldn’t stop smiling, because she had the first inklings of that ambition in the last hour, and he knew it.

They rode out of the last line of trees, into the street. A linkboy ran toward them, inadequately dressed, and fell in at the horse’s head, leading the way with his torch.

Another block and they would be home. Halfway, Bisquet came trundling down the street holding another torch, followed by two grooms.

Ophelia let male voices rise around her, the sounds urgent and yet peaceful. There was nothing men liked better than a small emergency. An obstacle that was easily overcome.

When the duke leapt off and then turned, his arms open, she slid down into his embrace, knowing that Bisquet was watching. Her grooms were there too, eyes wide.

Hugo didn’t care, even though he felt Ophelia’s body stiffen infinitesimally. He turned and began walking toward her house with her in his arms, holding her and her skirts, and her cloak, and her huge muff.

“I can walk,” she said, nestled against his chest like an extraordinarily bedraggled bird.

“I like carrying you.”

“I can see a star,” she breathed, a few steps later.

He tipped his head back. “I see chimneys and snow.”

“It’s there. The snow is stopping.”

Up the stairs to an excellent townhouse: Sir Peter had left his wife more than comfortable. Hugo spared another charitable thought for the man and pushed it away.

A stout butler with anxious eyes stood with the door open. Ophelia was obviously surrounded by good servants, which said a great deal for her. Hugo smiled. “Good evening. As you can see, I have your mistress safe and sound, if wet and cold.”

“Fiddle,” Ophelia said, “this is the Duke of Lindow. We are going to put him up for the night.”

“Yes, madam,” the butler murmured, bowing low.

“Good evening, Fiddle,” Hugo said. He strode into the spacious entry and put Ophelia on her feet. The next few moments were taken up by the removal of layers of damp clothing. His greatcoat had held off most of the water, but Ophelia’s velvet cloak was soaked through.

A maid took her up the stairs, and he followed the butler, who was solemnly offering a bath.

“I’ll send a groom to your townhouse to inform them that you are here, Your Grace. Roberts can serve as your man,” the butler said, gesturing to a young footman. “I shall have your clothing cleaned, pressed, and returned to you by morning. Would you like a light repast after your bath?”

“Yes.”

Hugo had just made an unwelcome discovery.

This wasn’t his house. If Ophelia wished to sleep with him, she’d have to come to him. There was nothing he could do about it.

He was not a man who liked to be at another person’s mercy. But it was Ophelia, he reminded himself. He was at her mercy in more ways than one.

He took a bath and ate an excellent meal, bundled in a warm wrapper, sitting by a crackling fire. The butler withdrew, taking the footman with him, and the house fell into silence.

It had to be two in the morning. He pulled open the curtains. Below his window a streetlamp shone through the snow, another sign of Sir Peter’s care for his property and his family. Streetlamps were still unusual, though he had the feeling that one day London streets would be lined with them. Snow still fell but lighter now, drifting and spinning rather than tumbling down.

He turned from the window, leaving the curtains open so that the room was lit with a soft, romantic glow, an excellent setting for a seduction, if only a lady would join him. The bed was laid out in fine linen that smelled faintly of lemons