The Duke Who Came To Town (The Honorable Scoundrels Book 3) by Sophie Barnes

Author:Sophie Barnes [Barnes, Sophie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2017-11-20T18:30:00+00:00

Try as she might, Josephine could not resist casting the occasional glance in the duke’s direction. He was as handsome as ever, his black hair slightly tousled, his eyes looking inward as if he were lost in deep contemplation. There would be a lot for him to think of too, considering what he’d discovered today with regard to Mr. Roth’s treachery. She did not envy the task the duke faced, of having to set everything to right, trying to win back the customers he’d lost, and the potential lawsuit he’d have to endure.

Unable to stop herself, she’d reached for him, hoping to offer some small piece of consolation. But it hadn’t been proper, an overstepping of bounds so personal, she’d been forced to snatch her hand away for fear he might see the truth: that she was falling for him in every impossible way. So she tried not to look, and she tried not to think of how happy she was in this moment.

Because it was destined to end.

Eventually, her sister would return, and Snowdon would realize his responsibility toward her had come to a conclusion.

“Miss Potter?”

She flinched, alerted by the deep timbre of the voice now speaking from outside the carriage. Blinking, she realized they must have arrived at the park. The duke peered at her, and his hand reached toward her, ready to help her alight. Drawn by the light in his eyes, her gaze locked with his, narrowing space and time to a fine little point in which only the two of them remained. Catching her breath, she allowed her hand to settle firmly against his palm, allowed herself to revel in the feel of his fingers tightening over hers. And then she climbed out, descending onto the pavement and dreading the moment when he would release her.

He assisted her slowly, so slowly she felt his reluctance to let her go in the unhurried slide of his hand— palm against palm, fingers against fingers, then subtlety followed by nothing. Or perhaps she simply imagined it. Perhaps he wasn’t as affected by her as she was by him, and she only saw and felt what she wished to. After all, he was a duke, a powerful man who could have any woman of his choosing. So what would he possibly want with her? Was it not more likely she lived in a fantasy of her own creation, a fantasy built on longing and broken dreams?

They set out along a wide path on which a few riders steered their horses along at a moderate pace and other pedestrians walked. “The snow is so pretty here,” she found herself saying. “It looks like frosting on a cake, completely undisturbed by carriage wheels.”

“There are the occasional prints from squirrels and birds. Some from children too,” Snowdon said. “Like the ones over there. Looks like they’re building a snowman.”

Rowena chuckled. “Remember when we used to do that? We’d always come back inside with frozen fingers and toes.”

“And Cook would have scones with clotted cream and jam waiting for us by the fire.

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