The Duke of Hearts by Jess Michaels

Author:Jess Michaels [Michaels, Jess]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Passionate Pen
Published: 2018-05-01T00:00:00+00:00

Isabel staggered as she reentered the ballroom, her head spinning wildly and her lips hot and tingling from Matthew’s hard and passionate kiss. Her heart fluttered as she scanned the room, but did not find him. Had he left? Was he hiding? Was he going to publicly expose her?

She had not taken two steps into the chamber when her uncle appeared at her elbow.

“There you are,” he said, his tone odd and echoing and faraway.

She turned to face him and found he was staring at her with an expression as strange as the tone of his voice. Heat rushed to her cheeks, as she feared she might be showing the strength of her reaction all over her face.

That would not do.

“Hello, Uncle Fenton,” she said, her voice shaking. “Were you looking for me?”

“You disappeared from the ballroom,” he said.

She swallowed. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I went to the retiring room to gather myself. I have a bit of a headache.” The lies fell from her lips a little too easily. But then, that was what she was becoming: a liar. Matthew certainly thought so.

Her uncle tilted his head. “Funny, I looked for you in the retiring room.”

She froze. If Fenton knew what she had done with a man he so deeply despised…oh, it would be very bad, indeed. He could never know. Never.

“We must have just missed each other,” she breathed.

He looked at her more closely. “Yes. Well, if your headache is still troubling you, perhaps we should end our night a bit early.”

She nearly collapsed with relief. “Oh, thank you, uncle!” She clasped his arm with both her hands. “You do not know how much I want exactly that.”

He arched a brow and looked her up and down. “I shall call for my carriage then. Come along.”

He moved them toward the door where she had just entered. She couldn’t help but toss one last glance over her shoulder as they left, but found no Matthew within. His friends, all those dukes and their wives, were gathered in a cluster, though, talking and frowning. Had he spoken to them? Did they know?

Nausea rose in her stomach, and she turned away and focused on making it to the foyer without casting up her accounts. Her uncle called for his rig and she stared at her slippers as they waited, reliving every moment with Matthew in the chamber.

His anger had been so big, it filled the whole parlor. But the desire was still there, too. Like warring factions trying to lay claim to him. Desire had won for a moment, but she feared the rage, the hatred she had inspired by deceiving him…those would take the war. She deserved it, of course, but it still made her heart sink to think that the conversation they’d just shared would likely be their last.

“Isabel.”

Her uncle’s tone was sharp, and she looked up to find him watching her closely. His expression was unreadable but utterly odd. “Y-yes?”

“The carriage,” he said, motioning to it.

She shook her head.

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