Chapter 2

Chapter Two

" W hat are you doing here?" the woman stammered, her voice trembling.

Kenneth stood in his chambers, staring at the intruder who had dared to invade his private space.

As she gulped, he noticed the delicate pearl drop necklace that dangled in her décolletage, the tiny pearls glistening in the dim light.

The sight of her in a lavender gown was doubtlessly designed to ensnare a man's attention. Her beauty was undeniable, the gown hugging her curves perfectly.

She flushed a deep crimson that on some women might not be attractive, but on her, it made her appear innocent and quite fetching. He squashed that feeling immediately.

"This is my room," he asserted.

"I…"

He strode across the room with purposeful steps, closing the distance between them.

His gaze never left her face, assessing her reaction, watching her discomfort.

He towered over her, forcing her to look up at him.

"If this is a ploy to seduce me, My Lady, it is failing miserably. Well, not miserably. You are quite… tempting," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm and intrigue.

The thought that one of his old drinking chums from his misspent youth might have sent her to him for a night of pleasure crossed his mind. Perhaps they thought it would be amusing to see the once notorious rake settled into a life of domesticity, or maybe they believed he needed a distraction from his duties.

The idea irritated him, making him even more determined to uncover her true purpose here.

She took a step back, her eyes wide with fear and indignation.

"I assure you I had no such intention," she declared, her voice gaining a measure of steadiness. "I was simply trying to find my room."

Kenneth's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing her. "Your room, you say? And which room might that be?"

She hesitated, clearly uncertain. "I… I believe it is just down the hall, and I must have taken a wrong turn."

"Indeed," he replied, arching an eyebrow. "And how convenient that your wrong turn led you to my private chambers."

"I apologize. I left the ball in such a hurry… and got lost, and…"

She took in the sight of him without a shirt, the color rising to her cheeks again. She bit her lip and quickly averted her eyes.

"Could you at least put on a shirt in the presence of a lady?"

Kenneth raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. "I didn't realize my attire, or lack thereof, would cause such distress. Does it bother you that much?"

She straightened her back, meeting his gaze with as much composure as she could muster.

God, how he missed making women flustered like that.

"It's simply inappropriate," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

He stepped closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Are you sure it's just inappropriate? Or do you find it distracting?"

Beatrice's cheeks flamed, and she turned her head slightly. "I am not accustomed to such immodesty."

He chuckled, enjoying her discomfort. "Perhaps you should broaden your experiences, then. There's nothing scandalous about the human body, wouldn't you agree?"

Her eyes snapped back to his, irritation and embarrassment within them. "Please, put on a shirt."

He chuckled softly. "Very well, if it puts you at ease."

Kenneth walked over to a nearby chair where his shirt was draped. He took his time putting it on, his movements unhurried, aware of her eyes following him despite her best efforts to appear indifferent.

"Better?" he asked, fastening the last button.

She nodded. "Thank you."

Kenneth tilted his head to the side, studying her.

"Wait a moment. Aren't you the Duchess of Newden's friend?" he asked, realization settling in. "Lady Beatrice Wickes, if I recall correctly."

Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"Catherine introduced us during a dinner at Newden Estate. It was shortly after their wedding," he said and allowed her a moment to remember.

"Although we barely spoke, I wouldn't think I have such a forgettable face, My Lady," he added as he stepped closer, the faint candlelight casting shadows on her round cheeks.

"Your Grace," she breathed, realization flashing across her face.

The flush on her cheeks made her appear even more alluring, and his pulse quickened.

Now that he was closer, the scent of her perfume filled his nostrils. It was a sweet and intoxicating blend: flowers and a soft breeze of spring.

At that point, most of his irritation had evaporated. Despite himself, he could not help but admire her beauty.

"Yes, and you still have not explained why you are here," he said, a hint of suspicion lingering in his tone. "If your intention is to get into my bed, My Lady, it is not working as you might hope."

Her eyes flashed with anger. "I assure you, Your Grace, I have no intention of getting into your bed."

"Oh? Then what were you doing, wandering into my chambers?"

"I told you, I got lost!" she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. "Not everyone is here to play games."

He took another step towards her, the air between them thick with tension.

"Really? Because it seems awfully convenient that you, of all people, would end up here."

Her jaw tightened, frustration clear in her posture.

"Believe what you will, Your Grace, but I do not appreciate being accused of something so improper."

Kenneth leaned in, placing a hand on the door beside her head, effectively trapping her.

He could feel the heat radiating from her body. He sensed her attraction, her breathing quickening as he drew closer, the proximity stirring something primal within him.

"You expect me to believe this was an accident?" he murmured, his lips dangerously close to hers.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "And if you think I am here to seduce you, you are sorely mistaken. I do not want to be ruined."

He leaned even closer, his breath mingling with hers.

How long had it been since he was this close to a woman?

He reveled in it.

"Ruined? Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad," he teased, "I've been told I can be quite… persuasive."

"Your Grace, this is highly improper," she managed to say, her voice trembling slightly.

"Improper, perhaps," Kenneth relented, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "But undeniably thrilling, don't you think?"

She shivered at his touch, her resolve wavering. "I am not here to play games," she insisted, her voice quivering.

"Who said anything about games?" Kenneth's lips hovered just above hers, a tantalizing promise of what could be. "Unless, of course, you're afraid to see where this could lead."

"I am not afraid of you," she responded.

"Oh, I knew that. What I am saying is that you're afraid of your own desires, My Lady," he challenged with a smirk.

"And what would you know of my desires?" she asked, her expression unwavering.

He smirked.

"Enough to know they are worth exploring," he answered.

"Is that so?"

"Oh yes. And you know fully well that I can fulfill them all."

She did not immediately respond this time, leaving the words to hang between them; a silence charged with unspoken desires and challenges.

Kenneth's eyes bored into hers, searching for any hint of deceit. But all he found was a defiant determination that matched his own which did nothing to ease the thrill coursing through him.

So, he dared to lean even closer.

However, before he would dare to do more, a sudden knock on the door shattered the tension. Both their eyes widened in surprise.

"Kenneth," came the voice of his aunt, Lady Bernmere, from the other side of the door.

Thinking quickly, Kenneth placed a hand over Beatrice's mouth and pulled her against him.

Her eyes widened in shock, but he silently pleaded for her cooperation, mouthing, "Stay quiet, and she will go."

Lady Bernmere persisted, however, calling out, "Kenneth, a footman alerted me you had arrived. Are you in there?"

Kenneth growled softly, knowing his aunt would not leave if he did not respond. "A moment, Aunt. I am not decent."

Removing his hand from Beatrice's mouth, he signaled for her to hide behind the door. She nodded, her eyes still wide, and hurried to stand next to the doorway, out of sight.

Kenneth grabbed a shirt and hastily pulled it on before opening the door.

"Good evening, Aunt Marjorie," he greeted, trying to keep his tone neutral.

"Kenneth, you are quite rude for not coming to dinner," Lady Bernmere chided, her tone reproaching and concerned at the same time.

He forced a smile. "Work at Dunford delayed me, and I found it pointless to join so late."

"Politeness is not a matter of practicality," Lady Bernmere pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"I wish it was," Kenneth replied, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration.

Lady Bernmere sighed. "Well, let me in. We need to talk."

Kenneth quickly stepped in front of her, blocking her path. "I am exhausted from the trip, Aunt. I simply need sleep now and would appreciate my privacy. We can talk tomorrow after breakfast."

Lady Bernmere looked unconvinced, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"Kenneth, are you with a mistress? Under the Dowager Duchess' roof?"

From the corner of his eye, Kenneth saw Beatrice's eyes flash with anger again. He knew he had to get his aunt to leave before Beatrice spoke up.

"Aunt Marjorie, I truly am just exhausted. Please, we can discuss whatever it is in the morning."

Lady Bernmere studied him for a moment, clearly not entirely convinced. "Promise me we will talk after breakfast?"

"I promise," Kenneth said firmly.

He hoped that would convince her.

With one last searching look, Lady Bernmere finally relented. "Very well. Goodnight, Kenneth."

"Goodnight," he replied, and relief flooded through him as she turned and walked away.

He closed the door and let out a breath.

Beatrice darted forward and gripped the doorknob.

Kenneth grabbed her wrist. "Are you mad? She will see you in the corridor. Wait until she leaves."

Beatrice froze, her eyes darting to his hand around her wrist. The warmth of her skin sent an unexpected jolt through him.

They listened intently as Lady Bernmere's footsteps retreated down the hallway, each step seeming to echo louder in the heavy silence of the room. Kenneth's breathing was deep and even, contrasting with Beatrice's rapid, shallow breaths.

He opened the door a crack, his body tense as he peered into the corridor. After a moment, he turned back to Beatrice and nodded. "It is clear. Go now."

Beatrice did not hesitate. She slipped past him, her skirt brushing against his leg as she moved.

Kenneth watched her hurry down the hallway, her figure a blur of lavender in the dim light.

He began to close the door, the tension in his muscles slowly easing.

But just as the door was nearly shut, he heard a voice call out, "Beatrice?"