Page 9 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction

“A bargain?” Marina hated how breathless her voice sounded.

“Mm.” His gaze dropped to her lips. “I could provide you with new inspiration. More intimate details for your story. Though, of course, you would need to experience them firsthand.”

Heat pooled low in her belly at his implication. The very suggestion was outrageous, improper—and utterly thrilling. This was exactly the sort of man she wrote about, offering exactly the sort of wicked propositions her heroines secretly craved.

Marina made herself to meet his gaze even though her pulse thundered in her ears.

“How generous of Your Grace to offer, but I prefer to rely on my imagination.”

“Doyou?” He leaned even closer and the heat of his body made Marina dizzy. She smelled the brandy on his breath, saw the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes. “And does your imagination tell you what happens next, my scandalous author?”

Marina’s breath caught in her throat. The Duke’s face was mere inches away from hers now, and his eyes were dark with something more dangerous than anger. The carriage seemed to shrink around them. The air grew thick.

“I—” she began, but the words died in her throat.

He tilted his head, closing the distance between them with agonizing slowness. Marina’s eyes fluttered closed. Her body betrayed her even while her mind protested. She could feel the ghost of his breath against her lips?—

The carriage jolted to a stop.

Marina’s eyes snapped open. Through the window, she recognized the familiar outline of her townhouse on Mount Street.

She had never been so grateful and yet so resentful of arriving home.

Before the Duke could react, she grabbed the door handle and pushed it open. “Good evening, Your Grace.”

She was proud that her voice barely trembled as she stepped down onto the street.

“We’re just getting started, darling,” he called after her, his voice full of promises and a hint of a threat.

CHAPTER 4

“Good God, Blytheton, are you actually at home before sunset? I’d begun to think you lived at White’s.”

Noah looked up from his desk with an exaggerated grimace. “Had to come home eventually. The club’s cellars can’t sustain my particular talents indefinitely.” He gestured to the crystal decanter beside him. “Though I have made sure to keep adequate supplies here as well.”

Leo’s mouth quirked as he dropped into the chair opposite his friend.

Trust Noah to maintain his debauchery even at home.

“I need some information about a person who resides on Mount Street.”

“Ah.” Noah’s eyes gleamed with sudden interest as he poured them both a drink. “I take it last night’s pursuit uncovered something interesting.”

“She’s clever, I’ll give her that.” Leo accepted the offered glass. “But not clever enough to avoid being caught.”

“And did you discover the identity of your mysterious author?” Noah held up his hand. “No, no. Let me guess? A jilted lover? A young maiden whose love for you has gone unrequited?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Not quite. The author lives in that gray stone townhouse at the corner of Mount Street. Quite a modest residence for someone who is profiting from my exploits.”

Noah’s eyebrows shot up. “That would be Lady Asquith’s residence.”

“Lady Asquith?” Leo frowned; the name stirred no recognition.

“The Dowager Countess of Asquith,” Noah clarified, clearly enjoying being the bearer of knowledge that Leo lacked. “Surely you remember old Lord Asquith? Fell into the Thames about a year ago after a particularly unsuccessful evening at the gaming tables.”

“I was in Vienna a year ago,” Leo reminded him. “What of his widow?”

“She’s actually a fascinating woman.” Noah settled back into his chair and took a sip of his drink. “The ton blamed her for Asquith’s death of course. They always blame the wife. But from what I heard, the marriage was a disaster from the start. She was barely eighteen when they wed, and he…” Noah’s expression darkened. “Well, let’s just say he wasn’t known for being kind.”