The Wallflower Dares the Duke by Alyssa Clarke

Author:Alyssa Clarke [Clarke, Alyssa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Darkan Press Inc.
Published: 2024-09-19T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

The sounds of laughter and music echoed faintly through the sturdy, oak door of the library, a sharp contrast to the chaos swirling inside Miss Honoria Shelton’s mind. Her pulse hammered as she backed away, breath catching in her throat. That she was in this position was inconceivable. At two and twenty, no gentleman had ever flattered her with attention—not even the disreputable sort. Despite many calling her a wallflower, she had always been careful, ensuring she was never caught alone with a libertine who might lead her to ruin.

Yet, this entire encounter had caught her off guard.

“Come now, there is no need to seem so appalled. Do you not understand—”

“My lord, I have told you, no,” she repeated, her voice firm even though her hands trembled. “I do not wish to dance with you here. I cannot imagine why you are insisting upon it. Please excuse me.”

She made to skirt around him, but he spread his arms wide, sauntering even closer.

Never allow someone you are afraid of to come within arm’s length of your person.

Monsieur Lambert’s words echoed in Honor’s mind. He was the fencing and self-defense master’s at 48 Berkeley Square, the secret ladies’ club she had been thrilled to join these last few months. Keeping all his lessons in mind, she took a few more paces backward, not at all confident she could execute the moves she had so diligently practiced.

Never show your fear. That is when those bully ruffians are likely to pounce.

Honor jutted her chin and tried to appear unflappable, despite the alarm piercing her heart.

A smug smile curved the earl’s mouth. “I have been watching you, Miss Shelton. I—”

“I cannot imagine why,” she said tartly, uncaring that she interrupted him again. “I have not invited your regard, my lord, nor do I wish for it. Kindly allow me to pass you and leave this room.”

A flicker of irritation appeared in his gaze before he reasserted his charming mask. He was clearly used to ladies dropping their handkerchiefs at their feet, hoping he would ask them to dance. But there was nothing honorable in the way he approached Honor. She had stepped outside the ballroom for a breath of fresh air, and now here she was, cornered in their hostess’s library by the predatory Earl of Whitby.

“Come now, Miss Shelton, don’t be so coy,” Lord Whitby drawled, taking another step forward. His lips curled in a smirk. “It’s all in good fun. You were tapping your feet to the music. Surely you would enjoy a dance or two.”

“Should you ask me in the ballroom, I might be persuaded to accept, my lord. I will not dance with you in private.”

He sighed as if her refusal were an inconvenience. “I thought you would have been grateful I asked. Have you danced at all this season?”

“You are outrageous,” she hissed, clenching her hands at her sides. “You will allow me to leave, Lord Whitby, or I shall scream.”

It was a threat she could not fulfill, and he knew it.

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