Page 68
Story: His Duchess' Mischief
“I was wondering what you were doing,” she said lamely, unsure why she had chosen to disturb him.
“I am working,” he bit out.
“On what?”
“Work,” he replied irritably.
When she didn’t leave, he sighed heavily and pushed the door open, allowing her to come in as he walked back to the desk.
Alicia stared at the papers scattered over every surface. There were crumpled piles of them around the hearth, as if he had written many versions of the same letter and thrown them aside.
“Are you looking for something? You have been at it for days.”
“It is not your concern,” he muttered, sitting down heavily behind his desk and pinching the bridge of his nose.
Alicia stood awkwardly before the fire, before placing Dove on the floor. The kitten began to bat at one of the smaller balls of paper and play with it.
Seth watched her, his eyes filling with warmth as she began to leap and dance over the carpet.
“I think that cat is feral,” he muttered.
Alicia walked over to his desk, taking in the letters across the surface. Her heart stuttered when a thought rose in the back of her mind.
Could they all be from the same person? Was he trying to write to someone? A woman, perhaps?
The idea that Seth had a mistress, that he had married her when his heart belonged to someone else, upset her more than it should.
Perhaps he had wanted to marry this woman but had been thwarted, and the numerous letters in the fire were him trying to explain why they could never see one another again.
“What is that look for?” he asked, his gaze darkening again.
Alicia fidgeted and gave a half-shrug. “I was just wondering who these are all from,” she ventured.
Seth sat back in his chair, his hands resting on his taut stomach, his eyes glittering wickedly. “Oh yes? Who do you think they are from?”
Alicia crossed her arms over her chest. “We have not known one another for long, so perhaps…”
“Perhaps?” he prompted, real amusement in his eyes now.
“Perhaps you have—had—a mistress.”
I hate the thought of him with anyone else, and yet I have been trying to repel him for weeks.
The dress she wore was a testament to that; it had a lurid orange stripe running down the center, which was quite revolting.
Seth leaned forward, his elbows on the desk.
“And if I did?” he asked, standing up and coming round to her.
Alicia stepped back, her anger rising. “I suppose she would have existed before me.”
“Mm, almost certainly. And if all of these letters—dozens of letters—are from her, what will you do about it, Duchess?”
He was advancing on her now, and she kept moving backward until her back hit the wall beside the fireplace.
“Do?” she asked heatedly. “I learned long ago that men act as they please. There is little I coulddo.”
Seth chuckled, the sound shuddering through her as she shivered.
“I am working,” he bit out.
“On what?”
“Work,” he replied irritably.
When she didn’t leave, he sighed heavily and pushed the door open, allowing her to come in as he walked back to the desk.
Alicia stared at the papers scattered over every surface. There were crumpled piles of them around the hearth, as if he had written many versions of the same letter and thrown them aside.
“Are you looking for something? You have been at it for days.”
“It is not your concern,” he muttered, sitting down heavily behind his desk and pinching the bridge of his nose.
Alicia stood awkwardly before the fire, before placing Dove on the floor. The kitten began to bat at one of the smaller balls of paper and play with it.
Seth watched her, his eyes filling with warmth as she began to leap and dance over the carpet.
“I think that cat is feral,” he muttered.
Alicia walked over to his desk, taking in the letters across the surface. Her heart stuttered when a thought rose in the back of her mind.
Could they all be from the same person? Was he trying to write to someone? A woman, perhaps?
The idea that Seth had a mistress, that he had married her when his heart belonged to someone else, upset her more than it should.
Perhaps he had wanted to marry this woman but had been thwarted, and the numerous letters in the fire were him trying to explain why they could never see one another again.
“What is that look for?” he asked, his gaze darkening again.
Alicia fidgeted and gave a half-shrug. “I was just wondering who these are all from,” she ventured.
Seth sat back in his chair, his hands resting on his taut stomach, his eyes glittering wickedly. “Oh yes? Who do you think they are from?”
Alicia crossed her arms over her chest. “We have not known one another for long, so perhaps…”
“Perhaps?” he prompted, real amusement in his eyes now.
“Perhaps you have—had—a mistress.”
I hate the thought of him with anyone else, and yet I have been trying to repel him for weeks.
The dress she wore was a testament to that; it had a lurid orange stripe running down the center, which was quite revolting.
Seth leaned forward, his elbows on the desk.
“And if I did?” he asked, standing up and coming round to her.
Alicia stepped back, her anger rising. “I suppose she would have existed before me.”
“Mm, almost certainly. And if all of these letters—dozens of letters—are from her, what will you do about it, Duchess?”
He was advancing on her now, and she kept moving backward until her back hit the wall beside the fireplace.
“Do?” she asked heatedly. “I learned long ago that men act as they please. There is little I coulddo.”
Seth chuckled, the sound shuddering through her as she shivered.
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