The Lost Duke of Wyndham by Julia Quinn

Author:Julia Quinn [Julia Quinn]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi, pdf
ISBN: 9780061737275
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2008-09-04T22:00:00+00:00

Grace dashed through Belgrave, half walking, half skipping…running…whatever it was she needed to do to reach her room with the most equal balance of dignity and speed. If the servants saw her—and she couldn’t imagine they didn’t; they seemed positively everywhere this morning—they must have wondered at her distress.

The dowager would not expect her. Surely she would think she was still showing Mr. Audley the house. Grace had at least an hour before she might need to show her face.

Dear God, what had she done? If she had not finally remembered herself, remembered who he was, and who he might be, she would have let him continue. She’d wanted it. She’d wanted it with a fervor that had shocked her. When he’d taken her hand, when he’d pulled her to him, he awakened something within her.

No. It had been awakened two nights earlier. On that moonlit night, standing outside the carriage, something had been born within her. And now…

She sat upon her bed, wanting to bury herself in the covers but instead just sitting there, staring at the wall. There was no going back. One couldn’t ever not have been kissed once the deed was done.

With a nervous breath, maybe even a frantic laugh, she covered her face with her hands. Could she possibly have chosen anyone less suitable with whom to fall in love? Not that this was the measure of her feelings, she hastened to reassure herself, but she was not so much of a fool that she could not recognize her leanings. If she let herself…If she let him…

She would fall in love.

Good heavens.

Either he was a highwayman, and now she was destined to be the consort of an outlaw, or he was the true Duke of Wyndham, which meant—

She laughed because really, this was funny. It had to be funny. If it wasn’t funny, then it could only be tragic, and she didn’t think she could manage that just now.

Wonderful. Perhaps she was falling in love with the Duke of Wyndham. Now that was appropriate. Let’s see, how many ways was this a disaster? He was her employer, for one, he owned the house in which she lived, and his rank was so far above hers as to be nearly immeasurable.

And then there was Amelia. She and Thomas certainly did not suit, but she had every right to expect that she would be the Duchess of Wyndham upon her marriage. Grace could not imagine how crass and overreaching she would appear to the Willoughbys—her good friends—if she were seen to be throwing herself at the new duke.

Grace closed her eyes and touched the tips of her fingers to her lips. If she breathed deeply enough she almost relaxed. And she could almost still feel his presence, his touch, the warmth of his skin.

It was awful.

It was wonderful.

She was a fool.

She lay down, let out a long, weary breath. Funny how she’d hoped for change, for something to break the monotony of her days attending to the dowager.

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