From Duke till Dawn: 2018’s most scandalous Regency read. Eva Leigh

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СКАЧАТЬ She’d married too young to a man of hot blood—but emotion had been her guiding principle when she’d accepted his proposal. When he had died of a fever contracted after a hunt, her strength had carried her through.

      It didn’t matter how dire her circumstances might be, she was determined to succeed on her own merits. She was no lost damsel in need of rescuing.

      He thought it would just be a few dull weeks at the hotel while recovering from a riding injury that had hurt his shoulder. He’d come into the hotel’s elegant, marble-clad foyer and seen her. All thoughts of his injury fled. Her proud, assured bearing had drawn him in, and beneath that, an elusive sensuality. She’d eaten alone in the dining chamber, with its vaulted ceiling and echoes of murmured conversation.

      Alex had never believed in fairy tales, but she seemed an elfin queen in exile. Her pale hair, the clearness of her gaze, the sleekness of her limbs all recalled the stories he’d heard from his nursemaid about the fairy folk who lived in the woods behind his home. So he’d dubbed her The Lost Queen. He’d been unable to resist her allure.

      He’d had the hotel’s manager introduce them. They’d talked about fairy tales and old legends and the wish to sail away to far-off places. It was as though idle conversation was unnecessary, and they’d spoken directly from their hearts. He’d never met anyone who could be so reserved and yet so incisive at the same time. Her contradictions wove themselves into a web, ensnaring him.

      When he’d learned of her plight, he had decided at once to give her money to help. They’d been in the hotel’s conservatory, warm and damp and green, and he’d seen a trickle of perspiration work its way down her neck to nestle in the folds of her fichu.

      She had tucked the money there. Not in her reticule. “For safety,” she’d explained, but he had been too distracted by the sight of that gleam of sweat to pay close attention.

      He’d taken her to bed soon after. Not as a man purchasing a woman’s favors, but as further proof of his heart. For the first time, he’d allowed himself to feel soul-deep emotion, believing that at last it would be reciprocated.

      She’d gone away instead. He’d been so hurt by her—but now he knew why she’d been so quick to put distance and silence between them. The wounds could at last heal.

      “What can a woman alone do,” she explained, “but make her way in the world.”

      “What did you do?” He was half-afraid of the answer, because there was always a particular option available to women.

      She gave him a wry smile without much humor. “Became a lady’s companion.”

      He exhaled.

      “Yet you’re here now.” He glanced behind him, at the crowded gaming hell full of men and women drinking and wagering.

      She blushed deeper, as though ashamed. “Mr. Hamish needed a woman of gentle birth to keep the people at the tables, and I had no choice but to accept his offer of employment. The last woman who’d retained my services was a bitter, angry widow—a dowager countess. She resented my youth. Accused me of stealing. She planted jewelry in my possessions. I left her employ with a blight on my name and without a character reference. Finding more work as a lady’s companion became impossible.” She spread her hands, an expression of rueful acceptance on her face.

      His heart ached with pity. His beautiful, proud Cassandra, brought to this. He couldn’t reproach her for not informing him of her whereabouts or circumstances. Had he been in the same place, he would have acted as she had.

      Yet they were here together again. After two years of fruitless searches, and the resulting despair when he couldn’t locate her, providence had seen fit to have them meet again. He didn’t know how or why, only that it was a gift he wouldn’t toss aside.

      “Cassandra—”

      She glanced worriedly over her shoulder. “I have to get back to work. Mr. Hamish will notice I’m not on the floor, and I cannot afford to lose my position here. And . . . I’m sorry to hear about what happened with Lady Emmeline.”

      He grimaced. The news was one-day old and everyone knew, even a woman he hadn’t seen in two years.

      But he didn’t want to think of his fruitless wooing of another woman. He took Cassandra’s hand in his. “Don’t go.”

      “I can’t stay.” She pressed a quick kiss to his knuckles—to his shock and pleasure—then slipped away, back into the heat and chaos of the gaming hell. He stepped out from the corner, watching her go as though she was the last glint of light in the darkness.

      Ellingsworth and Langdon appeared suddenly, flanking him.

      “Who was that?” Langdon demanded.

      “You never mentioned a blonde,” Ellingsworth accused at the same time.

      Alex cleared his rusted throat. “That’s a story I won’t be sharing.”

      His two friends exchanged glances. Ellingsworth had, despite his vocal disavowals to the contrary, done very well at university. His mind was nimble, perhaps overly so. “The unknown lady.”

      “What of her?” Alex snapped.

      “Lady Emmeline was never truly your goal,” he deduced. “You courted her, yes, but it was she who held pride of place in your heart.”

      “Ellingsworth—” Alex said warningly.

      Yet his friend wouldn’t be scared off. “The wooing of Lady Emmeline was merely a way to overcome heartbreak.”

      “Stop reading your nieces’ sentimental novels,” Alex muttered, but he couldn’t outright lie and tell Ellingsworth he was wrong.

      “Cheltenham,” Langdon suddenly exclaimed.

      Alex jerked in response. “The hell are you talking about,” he growled.

      “You’re right,” Ellingsworth said with surprise. “You went away to Cheltenham, and when you came back . . . you’d changed. Turned even more serious—if such a thing was possible. And there was . . .”

      “What?” Alex snapped.

      “Pain in your eyes.” Ellingsworth looked nearly embarrassed to have noticed this much.

      “There wasn’t,” Alex said lowly, but his friends were too perceptive. He grabbed a drink from a passing servant, and his friends did the same. Alex threw back his wine, but Langdon and Ellingsworth sipped at theirs.

      Ellingsworth continued, “It was her. The blonde. She had to have been at Cheltenham, too. You weren’t yourself when you returned. Shoulder had healed but you’d been wounded another way. Took months before you came out of that cloud—and when you did, you started looking for a bride. Lady Emmeline. A girl to fill the gap left by the Cheltenham blonde.”

      “Enough of your fancies,” Alex muttered, but there was no denying how close his friends were to the truth. He tipped his glass back for more wine, but it was empty. Moodily, he set it on another passing servant’s tray.

      “Oh ho,” Langdon crowed. “A crack in the ducal defenses.”

      Alex СКАЧАТЬ