Chasing the Duke: Steamy Second Chance Regency Romance by Tracy Sumner & Twelve Days

Author:Tracy Sumner & Twelve Days [Sumner, Tracy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-12-07T06:00:00+00:00

Throughout a cotillion and a Scotch reel, Camille worried about the way color had bled from Tristan’s cheeks. As she tried to imagine what dread like that must feel like, she stepped on Lord Heming’s toes and got lost during her conversation with Baron Birmingham. When Viscount Arnold approached for his selection, she claimed to have a torn hem and took herself off to find Tristan.

This worrying without action would not do.

She located him in the fourth room she tried.

He didn’t turn from his study of the woodlands surrounding the countess’s estate, simply stood quietly before the window sipping from a glass. He looked lonely. On an island he didn’t want anyone else to reach, the glow from a candelabra turning the tips of his hair gold and gilding his skin. Camille turned the key in the lock, and the dull clink echoed through the room.

“They’re like nightmares while I’m awake. I don’t know why, but startling sounds bring them to the forefront of my mind. Like they’re close, shallowly buried and easy to retrieve.” He braced his hand on the window ledge and gazed into the snowy night. “Only needing a jolt to reveal them. Then I’m tossed into the pit.”

Skirting the desk he stood behind, she settled in beside him, shoulders touching, and took his glass. Gin. It burned as it went down, and she coughed.

“Easy,” Tristan said without looking at her, a hint of a smile in his voice.

She pushed the glass back in his hand, a hand that no longer shook, she noted. “I walked in on Lady Pierce-Nesmith two doors down on her knees before a man, a man most definitely not Lord Pierce-Nesmith. It was, if nothing else, enlightening.”

Tristan turned to her with a sputtered laugh. “You’re kidding.”

Camille grimaced, recalling what she’d seen in the two-second flash. “I wish I were.”

“Don’t they know about the famous Milburn locks?” He tipped his glass her way. “Which I noticed you wisely employed.”

Stepping back, she rested her bottom on the desk. Tristan had located a study of some sort to hide in. Bookcases, armchairs, dark corners, dust. Nothing romantic about it. A room for reflection, not seduction. “Has this happened before?”

He flicked his fingers, dismissing the question. “No matter. But I think it proves a fine point, in light of our recent…transactions. Why I can’t marry. Why I can’t live with anyone. Sleep through the night with anyone. You think this was dreadful, the dreams are worse. The dreams are horrendous.” When she started to speak, he held her off with a stern look. “Not right now, Princess. Maybe not ever. You see, old Ridley is right about one thing, aside from his fascination with you. I’m no longer fit for society. I no longer belong.”

Camille gazed at his pensive silhouette, her heart seizing, wondering why she had to love such a complicated man. Because she did love him, she always had, and her continued feelings were a disaster in the making. Desire pulsed through her as

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