Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Perhaps I have frightened her.

Above, the sky stretched like an endless black canvas, speckled with an uncountable number of stars. Leaning against the cool railing, Dorian turned his gaze upward, soaking in the night and the chilly air. It was quiet, still, and he wished he could remain in this very spot.

Lanterns adorned the balcony, casting a subtle glow while filling the air with the scent of burning oil. There was not another soul in sight, the way that he had come to prefer, though he doubted the peace would last.

Faint strains of music drifted from inside, the sound distant like a dream one couldn’t quite remember. He strained his ears, concentrating—he did not recognize the tune. With a sigh, he turned his attention back to the sky, taking in the sliver of a crescent moon.

He had not planned to dance, not expecting to find a partner who was both willing and worth the trouble. But Lady Eleanor had proved to be more than just those two things. Her quick wit and clever charm had piqued his curiosity, finding her as almost a kindred spirit—of course, it helped that she was beautiful enough to put Aphrodite herself to shame.

There was no hiding the attraction he felt. He had felt it as they danced, the smell of her perfume filling his senses like smoke—a smoke he’d be more than willing to breathe in. The way his hand felt on the small of her back, her body dangerously close to his…

He wanted more of her, in every way he could.

His fingers itched to touch her, to trace lines over her skin and watch the color rise in response. He wanted to feel her, to taste her, and know her in the most quiet, intimate of places.

She had not come to join him, and he wasn’t sure that he had truly expected her to. Lady Eleanor was a woman of high society, of the ton no less, and his actions would destroy her reputation completely. His own reputation was nothing but ash, buried with his father.

It was a stupid suggestion. Of course, she would not come.

Dorian inwardly cursed his boldness and stepped back from the railing, contemplating if he should just step back inside.

From where he stood, he could see the figures silhouetted by the light from the chandeliers in the ballroom, but none were interesting enough. There were no friends awaiting him, no allies but his mother. Perhaps he might have made an ally of Lady Eleanor, but now he could only assume that the opportunity had been well lost.

She wouldn’t ruin herself just to meet with the Mad Duke in secret.

Frowning, he pushed off the railing and turned for the door. As he moved, a weight settled on his shoulders. The role of duke was enough to drown him, especially in these social settings, where whispers and all eyes followed him.

I do not care for it. Let them look and let them speak. They are nothing.

A sudden flicker of movement from the doorway caught his attention, making him stop in his tracks.

A tall, willowy figure, shadowed by the night and the backdrop of candle glow, moved toward him, looking over her shoulder eagerly, her gown swirling around her with each quick step. With a yelp, she collided with him, her body pressed against his chest.

Instinctively, he reached out to steady her, stopping her from stumbling backwards. He put one hand on the small of her back, and the other caught her by the wrist.

For a moment, Lady Eleanor remained as still as a stone statue, her forehead pressed to his collar. Her entire body tensed as she let out a shaky breath. Then, she slowly looked up at him, meeting his eyes.

She wasn’t wearing her spectacles, revealing shimmering eyes in the lantern light.

“Your Grace, I apologize. I did not mean to…” she whispered, her voice quavering with surprise and uncertainty as she held his gaze.

He could feel her quick, warm breaths against his neck.

How I wish to feel this under different circumstances. In my bed, preferably.

The thought sparked carnal images in his mind.Eleanor in his bed, surrounded by plush pillows, while covered by nothing more than a thin sheet, waiting for him.

Dorian held her gaze for a moment, before his eyes traced her features, settling on her luscious, full lips. The urge to kiss her surged, and he felt himself leaning in ever-so-slightly, but he resisted.

I should let her go and apologize.

But he did not. Instead, he stared at her shamelessly.

“You certainly make an entrance,” he managed to say in a husky voice, struggling more and more to compose himself.

Silence descended over them, a tension thick enough to slice through building between them.

Stepping back, Dorian dropped his hands, clasping them behind his straight back in an attempt to seem less intimidating.

Lady Eleanor adjusted her gown, smoothing the wrinkles while avoiding his eyes. He was completely aware of the blush creeping up her cheeks, the subtle pink hues rising on her chest—an enticing sight. He wondered what else he could say to earn that blush… and how far it went.

As soon as she straightened, regaining her composure, she glanced over her shoulder at the doorway. Dorian could see the unease rushing through her, the look of uncertainty tinged with what he could only assume to be regret.

“I will not be offended if you wish to leave, my lady,” he said.

Lady Eleanor turned to him and shook her head. “That is not it…”

She is more afraid of being caught than she is of me, it seems.

His attention shifted to the small staircase on the far side of the balcony, leading down to the dimly lit gardens below. Dorian was almost certain that she would object. After all, what type of lady would dare to wander with a gentleman in the dark? Let alone with the Mad Duke.

To his surprise, Lady Eleanor’s gaze was lingering on the same very spot. He watched her, even more curious now, as she seemed to stew over the idea.

Turning to look back at him, she raised her eyebrows. “Celia will be expecting me back, and she knows where I am,” she said. Her tone was polite enough, but the words served as a warning.

Dorian could not help but smile. “I will not keep you long, unless, of course, you wish me to.”

Walking through the dimly lit gardens, Eleanor could not help but steal glances at the Mad Duke. Their steps aligned in a perfectly synchronized pattern, one that matched the thundering of her heart. Worry was gnawing at her, clawing at her senses. She knew this was wrong, that it could spell scandal, yet her curiosity continued to propel her forward.

“Why choose to meet with me outside?” she asked as they veered into a more secluded path, flanked by luscious rose bushes.

Breathing in, she took in the scent of blooming flowers with a sense of relief. She was then made all too aware of the Mad Duke’s eyes on her, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“To seduce you, naturally,” he replied in a serious tone.

Eleanor rolled her eyes, not daring to take him at his word. Something told her that this wasn’t quite the case—not entirely, at least. She looked at him with an arched eyebrow, waiting for him to answer her question properly.

“I am certain you have noticed how unwelcome I was inside.”

Eleanor looked over her shoulder at the mansion, seeing the subtle glow from the windows. They were far enough now that she doubted anyone would see them. She could not imagine how hard it must be for him to walk into such an event, given his reputation. Suddenly, realization dawned on her.

Eleanor prided herself on her intelligence, but at that moment, she felt incredibly dim. She was standing beside a killer, a man who was deemed very much mad, without a single care for her own safety. And yet…

I am not entirely frightened of him.

She felt fear, of course. She did not know this man, this stranger, beyond some uncomfortably close conversation and a dance. Looking back at the duke, seeing the shadows flicker over his face, it was enough to make her heart skip a beat.

She realized then that she was more afraid of being caught with the duke than of the duke himself.

It was clear he was reluctant to answer, for whatever reason.

In the heart of the garden stood an exquisite fountain, the centerpiece surrounded by intricately carved mermaids. No doubt, it was surely a stunning piece, but as much as she tried to steer her focus to the fountain, the towering figure at her side still dominated all of her senses.

“Why bother attending the ball at all?” she asked after a while.

The duke hesitated, his gaze turning to the water.

Eleanor watched him, cocking her head as she soaked in the sight. She noted his imposing height once again. He was considerably taller than her, which in itself was not something she had seen often.

The more she looked, the more she noticed. He had a sharp, strong jawline where she could see the faintest hint of stubble. Eleanor could not help but wonder how it would feel under her fingertips.

Her mind flashed to the feeling of his arms around her, the sensation that had stirred within her returning with a desperate vengeance. Never in her life had she been so close to a man, and the feelings that surged within her had taken her completely by surprise.

Dorian sighed softly, his gaze lingering on the rippling surface of the water. “I find myself in a position where I must seek a wife,” he began reluctantly. “As much as I may not desire it, duty demands it of me. Though, it all seems like the worst nightmare—one from which I cannot wake.”

His eyes narrowed for the briefest moment before he turned back to her, smiling.

Eleanor knew the look. It was a forced smile with a subtle hint of embarrassment.

“Well, one of the worst, at the very least,” he added.

She completely understood how he felt. She considered her own circumstances, the weight of what her brother had said the other night, and her own future, which seemed to hang in the balance.

“Being in such circumstances, to not have control over your own life… it is a terrible feeling.”

“Do you find yourself in a similar situation?” He raised an eyebrow in question. There was a flash of something in his eyes, a thought swirling in his mind as the corner of his mouth quirked up slightly.

Eleanor looked up at the sky, truly not wishing to consider her own situation. “Yes, a most unfortunate situation.”

A gentle breeze blew through the garden, softly ruffling her gown and hair, blowing tendrils of dark curls across her face. Eleanor did not raise her hand to brush them away. Instead, she soaked in the feeling of the air around her, willing it to pick her up and carry her somewhere else.

Somewhere far from balls, parties, and thoughts of marriage.

“You do not strike me as a typical socialite,” he remarked.

Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say such a thing?”

The duke stepped forward, close enough now that she could reach out and touch him. His eyes were cast down as he looked at her, as if she were something he had yet to lay his eyes on.

“You dislike the frivolities, all of it. I can see it so plainly on your face,” he explained. “Unless I am mistaken and you find yourself excited about balls, parties, and walks through the pleasure gardens.”

He then looked up past her, but he did not appear concerned.

“I do enjoy the gardens,” she corrected him. But it was not so much for the sake of her position, of being seen, but because her time there was often spent among her friends. “There are some aspects I can do without.”

Extending his arm to her, he nodded toward the path leading away from the fountain. Eleanor was hesitant for a moment, her brow furrowing as she tried to make sense of why they would leave, but she tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, nonetheless.

They walked on, toward what almost appeared to be a tunnel made solely of hanging ivy. It was darker there, more secluded, and a part of her was tempted to turn back, but she continued. She silently tried to convince herself it was only due to the dare, nothing more.

As they neared a bend before the tunnel, Eleanor cast a quick glance over her shoulder. Her stomach immediately lurched as she saw flickering light approach the fountain, the same place they had been only moments ago. Her heart skipped a beat, anxiety flooding through her.

Could someone have seen us there?

As if sensing her panic, the duke halted, his gaze meeting and holding hers. “I doubt they saw us, my lady,” he assured her, his voice calm and his face placid. “In fact, I would not be surprised if we were not the only ones enjoying the garden without a chaperone.”

Though his words attempted to reassure her, her anxiety lingered.

She nodded, finding only the faintest bit of solace in his comment. As they entered the archway shrouded in ivy, which created the tunnel-like passage, darkness enveloped them, and she shuddered.

Her heart was racing, and she tried, desperately, to maintain her composure as they walked on. Instinctively, she tightened her grip on his arm.

“Can I tell you a secret I have yet to share with another soul?”

She could not see him, but she could almost hear the smile on his lips as he responded, “I would be honored.”

Eleanor hesitated but then swallowed back her embarrassment. “I… I have always been frightened of the dark, since I was a child,” she admitted, her voice quavering as she watched the shadows, her mind playing tricks on her, as it often did.

There was no reason to be afraid, at least of the dark, but she was.

“My apologies, Lady Eleanor. Had I known…” he trailed off, as if a new thought had silenced him. Then, without warning, he leaned in closer. She could feel his breath on her ear. “Close your eyes, my lady. I will guide you until we reach the end, so you need not face it.”

Eleanor was taken back by the suggestion, but she did just that, and surrendered herself to his guidance. The duke slowed his pace, his steps more careful as he led them toward the end of the tunnel. It was then that she realized how tightly she was holding onto his arm. She relaxed her hand.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself. But it wasn’t the scent of the blooms that filled her senses, but the unmistakable musk of the man at her side. Subtly, she breathed in his scent more, letting it fill her to the brim, leaving her with a stirring feeling in her stomach.

Everything about him seemed to draw her in, from the smell of his skin to the warmth that radiated off it. Even with her eyes closed, her body found other ways to take him in.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded after some time.

With a tentative inhale, she did, and found herself breathless.

Before them, the path of stepping stones was illuminated by a row of lanterns sitting on the ground. The flickering flames within the metal cages cast dancing shows on the stone and grass.

It looks like something from a romance novel.

Eleanor frowned after the thought. Romance? No, she needed to be more cautious. A light show like this might have been enough to convince some of her friends, but not her.

As beautifully haunting as it was, she could not afford to throw caution to the wind like this.

As much as she felt half-tempted to do so.