Duke Of Scandal by Adele Ashworth

Author:Adele Ashworth
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2010-07-12T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Claudette paced the floor in her parlor, absolutely furious. Furious.

Never had Edmund treated her with such disdain as he had last night.

Oh, she supposed he'd been himself when they danced, if not a bit aloof, which she assumed had to do with her finding him returned to Paris without notification, just like a naughty puppy with his tail between his legs. But to disregard an open invitation to her room went far beyond anything he'd ever done before. In all the years she'd known him, he'd never denied her the pleasures of the bedroom. Discovering, after a thorough search of the ballroom at one o'clock in the morning, that he'd left with his wife at just past midnight had completely enraged her. She couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, and had arrived back at her suite just before eight that morning, surprising her entire staff with her untimely appearance as they all stared at her with open mouths.

True, she undoubtedly looked a fright, as her expertly pinned coiffure had come loose during her coach ride home, and she still wore her ball gown, now wrinkled. But then she had every right to be upset!

First she learns that Edmund returned to Paris unannounced, and then she finds the two of them alone on the balcony, of all places, sharing their own little te-Ă -te as if there were no one else on earth! If she had never been jealous of Olivia before last night, nothing compared to the surge of emotions that coursed through her upon finding Edmund beside her, bodies nearly touching, heads tipped together as they engaged in intimate discussion. She'd never seen Edmund so clearly enraptured by anything Olivia had to say, and the second she came upon them by moonlight, she fought the urge to rip the little minx to shreds with her perfectly painted nails. Or better yet, walk to Edmund's side and kiss him soundly in front of Olivia's pretty, innocent eyes, laying claim to him, letting her know at last that the man she thought she married was, in point of fact, already taken and had been for years.

But, alas, good breeding reigned and she'd restrained herself to the best of her ability, reminding herself with gleeful satisfaction that Edmund might be pretending with Olivia, but it would be her bed he'd be lying in come dawn. His ignoring her demand for a late-night sexual interlude had been the final blow.

Now, after what she could only view as a purposeful, spiteful avoidance of her, she didn't know what to do. She needed to talk to him, to learn exactly how much had been accomplished in Grasse before Olivia found him, and then just exactly what transpired between the two of them in the days leading up to last evening's fiasco. His explanation of staying in his faux wife's good graces and returning to Paris with her made sense, and yet... it didn't. Edmund never did anything without her consent, or at the very least informing her, especially something as vital and delicate as this.

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