Chapter 19

James chuckled and effortlessly caught Elizabeth. She wrapped her legs around his hips, her arms sliding around his neck.

"Your Grace," she drawled playfully. "I've kept you waiting."

James responded by spinning her around and setting her gently atop his desk, her legs still wrapped securely around his hips. He traced the bridge of her nose with his fingertip, his touch light and sensual down to the hollow of her cheek and the shape of her bottom lip. His fingers, long and warm, stroked down her neck

"I have an unusual confession," he said softly.

"Oh?"

His eyebrows quirked teasingly. "I missed you."

Elizabeth's breath caught and her heart ached. She wanted this man with a breathlessness that knew no bounds. "I am remarkably lovely; of course, you would miss me."

His eyes danced with amusement and something tender. "Ah, now I see the appeal of charming arrogance you mentioned."

She smiled. "I missed you too, James, so very much. How was your trip?"

"It was good. I will let you know more about it tomorrow."

"Where are we going tomorrow?"

"We will visit The Royal Museum and then have a picnic in Kensington Gardens. I will collect you in my phaeton."

Her heart stuttered, and she stared at him, almost frightened by what he suggested. This meant he was making a public show of courting her.

"James?" she breathed, hunger crawling through her for this man. "What are you saying?"

"I will call on you tomorrow at your aunt's house. We will speak more then."

A burst of happiness darted through her heart. "Yes."

He kissed her forehead. "Let me not keep you here too long, lest your mother or aunt starts looking for you. I only needed to tell you of my intentions for tomorrow and this," he said with gruff tenderness, cupping her cheeks to tilt her head up and softly kissing her.

He moved his mouth downward, gently kissing her chin, drawing a light laugh from her.

"So ticklish," she whispered.

James kissed the hollow of her throat and teased his teeth over her fluttering pulse. Then he lifted his head and brushed his mouth against hers. He threaded his fingers through her hair and melded her mouth more firmly to his, deepening their kiss with exquisite thoroughness, wild passion, and sensual greed. She twined her hands around his neck, holding him close, returning his kiss with all the aching emotions inside her heart.

I am falling so deeply in love with you, James.

Their mouths parted, and she whispered, "My aunt and mother have departed early."

He arched a brow. "They left you alone here?"

"My aunt felt a terrible migraine coming on, so my mother went home with her. They will send the carriage back for me. I could stay with you longer."

"I'll not tup you here," he said, his tone warm with desire.

Elizabeth felt the heated length of his cock through their clothes, hard, pulsating against the soft pad of her belly. She smiled at his restraint. "I want to stay with you but not for tupping. We could play chess by the fire or watching the stars in the garden—"

"Good heavens! What is this?"

She gasped, her eyes widening. James straightened, positioning himself protectively in front of Elizabeth as she slid off the desk. Her face heated with embarrassment and shock. His calm demeanor was a stark contrast to the chaos erupting in the doorway.

"What is the meaning of this?" the voice screeched again. "Elizabeth?"

She moved from behind James. Her mother's eyes were wide with disbelief, her expression vacillating between shock and dismay.

"Mother?" Elizabeth's voice was a mix of confusion and plea. "I thought you and aunt had left—"

"We have been waiting to leave," her aunt interjected, her tone high-pitched and frantic. She dramatically pressed a hand to her chest, her eyes darting accusingly between Elizabeth and James.

"We had to ask the duchess for help when we could not find you, my dear. I recall you said you had a terrible headache and wondered if you had gone to lie down. This was the only door that was locked, so Her Grace had to ask the housekeeper to assist us with opening the door. But I never imagined you would be caught … in a tryst with the duke!"

Elizabeth felt a creeping sense of unreality wash over her as the room seemed to spin. The disapproving stares from the group in the doorway, led by her visibly upset mother and the stern-faced duchess, made her feel like she was trapped in a nightmarish tableau. Had she and James been so caught up in each other that they did not hear the opening of the door?

"Ah, you were the one with the headache, hmm?" the duke said mockingly, focusing his sharp gaze on Elizabeth. "How interesting. Now I understand the insistence that you wanted to stay."

She stared up at him, uncomprehending, then pain bloomed in her heart.

"No, I—" Elizabeth started, her voice trembling slightly, not sure how to begin explaining without exacerbating the scandal.

James turned toward everyone, his voice calm and authoritative as he addressed the room. "Ladies, I assure you, your concern, while appreciated, is unwarranted. Miss Armstrong and I were merely discussing some literary interests in a place free from the noise of the ball. Any misunderstanding is regrettable."

His composed explanation did little to alleviate the tension in the air. The duchess, stepping forward with an air of authority that befit her status, spoke sternly, "This is most irregular, James. You must understand how this appears to everyone involved."

Elizabeth, gathering her wits, added hurriedly, "Yes, I apologize for any concern I caused. It was never my intention to worry anyone or create such a misunderstanding."

Despite their attempts to clarify the situation, the damage seemed done. Whispers and murmurs filled the room as the duchess nodded grimly, her expression softening slightly as she looked at Elizabeth.

"This will go no further than this room," the duchess declared sharply, stepping further into the library with an air of command. "There need not be any sort of scandal."

Relief rushed through Elizabeth, and then her aunt surged forward. "I agree; however, Your Grace, we both know the damage has been done! His Grace knows what he needs to do to render my niece respectable."

"Aunt!" Elizabeth cried.

James dragged a hand through his hair, his expression one of exasperated pain. "I see. Will you continue this charade too? Such commendable acting from all of you."

"What … what charade?" Elizabeth managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper, her mind racing with panic and disbelief.

"Your Grace," her aunt interjected primly, her eyes flashing with a mix of indignation and opportunism. "You took my niece behind a closed door and were so scandalously positioned. I am certain you know what it is!"

"Good heavens, have we truly interrupted a tryst?" one of the unknown ladies chimed in with a staged, dramatic whisper, adding to the theatricality of the moment.

"Never before has anyone attempted a trap with such spectacle. I am almost impressed," James replied, his tone dripping with chilling incivility, his expression growing foreboding.

A trap? As in a deliberate compromise? Elizabeth's heart thudded painfully slow, shock rooting her to the spot. She was mortified to see that James's face was etched with an arrogant disdain, his expression darkening further as the gravity of the situation sank in. The evening was unraveling into a nightmare.

Tears burned Elizabeth's throat. She wanted so desperately to allow her tears to fall, but she couldn't. She fisted her hands at her sides, understanding the stage had been set, and everyone was now doing their part. She saw the knowledge and the disgust in the duchess's gaze.

"Is this how gentlemen of the ton treat young ladies?" Her mother demanded, her voice laced with accusation and a calculated glint in her eye.

It was clear she was a part of this dangerous game, gambling on James's honor to sway the outcome. Elizabeth's heart fractured at the realization that her mother and aunt planned this awful deceit. Compromised, betrayed, and potentially ruined, she felt the weight of their actions like an anvil on her chest, crushing her.

A harsh breath escaped James, his gaze turning grimmer than Elizabeth had ever seen. "Somehow, I thought you were smarter than this, Miss Armstrong."

"No," Elizabeth said, shock and pain echoing through her voice. How could he believe she would engage in such deceit? A breath-crushing tension wrapped its arms around her chest.

"I would never do this," she insisted, her voice trembling with emotion. "How could you even think so for a moment?"

A humorless laugh escaped from James, and the gaze that raked over her was cold and mocking. "You've won nothing but a ruined reputation, Miss Armstrong."

Her mother's eyes widened, a flicker of doubt passing through them before she quickly composed her expression. She shared a glance with her co-conspirator.

"I will expect you to present yourself to my husband first thing tomorrow, Your Grace," her aunt demanded crisply. "It is the only honorable recourse."

Another low, mocking sound came from James. "Oh?" he queried with disdain.

"Mother, Aunt, we will discuss this in the privacy of our home," Elizabeth said, stepping toward them. "We must leave now, and I implore everyone for discretion in this matter."

Her aunt avoided her, aiming her glare at the duke. "Your honor demands you to do the right thing, Your Grace. My niece's reputation—"

"Do not be foolish, Viscountess Barnaby. Others have tried this distasteful scene to their loss. You will most certainly wait in vain. An offer will never be forthcoming from me."

"Your Grace," her mother began, her hand fluttering to her throat in a gesture of genuine distress.

Her words strangled in her throat when James brushed past her and the few strategically chosen witnesses. The pain and betrayal nearly brought Elizabeth to her knees as she watched him leave, her world spinning out of control around her.

* * *

"James,I had no knowledge of this!"

Ignoring Elizabeth's strained cry, James walked away, slowly emptying his mind and suppressing the emotions writhing inside his chest. It felt as if he had lost something that was infinitely precious. The notion of marriage had always felt intangible, but the awareness that he could not envision a life without Elizabeth tossed James's world into disorder.

"Who is it that has you so distracted?" his sister had teased only a few days prior.

James had surprised himself by telling her, "Miss Elizabeth Armstrong. She has me in knots that I never want to untangle."

"Then marry her."

At that moment, James knew the only woman who could boldly hold his hand and walk by his side was Elizabeth. A deep sense of betrayal pricked at his chest, stabbing too deep. A calm, logical mind could allow one to overcome anything, and that was what he needed to do now. With each step along the hallway, he felt as if he had left something important behind.

He walked outside, lifting his face to the sky. Closing his eyes, a mirthless laugh that felt empty slipped from him. To think he had been about to confess his growing feelings and his desire to woo her, but she had been plotting a compromising trap with her family.

"Why would you do this?" he hissed harshly, wanting to slam his fist into the wall to stop the damn sensation that writhed through his chest. It was a feeling unknown to him, but it was damn painful.

"Because, like many other young ladies, Miss Armstrong wanted to capture herself a duke," a voice said crisply behind him. "How conniving and deceitful. What is this, the fifth attempt?"

The seventh. Each scheme is more complicated than the last. The lengths many would go to marry into his family would forever perplex and disgust him. James eased out a slow, steady breath as his mother came to stand beside him.

"I do believe I am right. This is the fifth trapping you have avoided. However, this is the first I have seen this look of betrayal in your eyes. You are holding yourself so rigid."

James composed his expression, aware of his mother's regard on his face.

"Did you love her?" she quietly asked.

His heart felt as if something stabbed through it. Love? What the hell was love? Surely, the obsession he felt for her went deeper than love. "I have no wish to discuss Miss Armstrong," he said with chilling politeness. "Not now, and not ever, Mother."

His mother sighed. "You are my son and I know you. I have been watching you with Miss Armstrong, and I am discerning enough to see he regard you own for her. If you love her—"

"I could never love a deceptive wretch or even think of aligning myself with a family so unsuitable in conduct, good sense, and propriety. Do not speak of them to me again."

A soft sound of agony reached his ears, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Elizabeth frozen, her face pale and her eyes glistening with unshed tears. James slammed his eyes closed. How could that one soft sound of pain wrench his chest open and shake him to his very core?

He opened his eyes. Evidently, she had hastened after him. Her mother and aunt were close behind her, and given their aghast expression, James deduced they'd overheard his remarks. For long moments, Elizabeth stared at him, unmoving. He could see the tension that suddenly tightened her body and stiffened her shoulders.

"James, after everything, do you have no notion of who I am?"

He swept his gaze over her, making no effort to conceal his indifference. James dismissed Elizabeth, her mother, and her aunt from his thoughts.

He bowed respectfully to his mother. "Please, attend to your guests, Mother. I assure you, I am quite well," James said with a calm composure. Without allowing himself a backward glance at his lover, he walked away, distancing himself from her and the reckless decision he had narrowly avoided.