Page 6 of A Duke Of Her Own
Ah we make progress.
“I also considered the heartache that could follow.” She blew out a sharp breath. “I received a letter from my mother today, summoning me to London.”
What an odd choice of word, as if she had no will to refuse this summons. “You do not seem happy to return. Do you not long for your family?”
“I do,” she said softly. “I know Imustdo what my mother asks to atone for all the hurt I’ve caused.”
Alexander found himself puzzling over what sort of anguish someone as compassionate and tender-hearted as Miss Walcott could possibly inflict upon her family. He was tempted to delve deeper into the matter, but he could sense the emotional barriers beginning to rise in her demeanor, making further inquiry seem intrusive. Francie leaned forward and plucked the decanter from the walnut table, and took a sip. Her eyes sparkled with such sadness he felt as if he wanted to slay the world. Inside he chuckled ruefully, though he accepted his reaction to her, that he could feel so deeply about a lady still had the power to astonish his senses.
She began to nibble on her lower lip, a behavior Alexander had come to recognize as a telltale sign of her nervousness. Over the course of their unorthodox friendship , he had noticed this subtle gesture manifesting whenever she felt uneasy or uncertain, and it struck him once again how this simple act revealed a deeper layer of her emotions.
“Tell me what worries you, Francie.”
Her face flushed a becoming pink. “There is something I want to do before … before I commit to the task my mother sets before me. Something that perhaps you might help me with, Alexander.”
Unexpectedly a hot clenching need knotted inside of him. It was damn peculiar how his mouth dried, and his heart rate increased. “I am listening.”
Francie pinned him with a fierce stare, and he got the feeling she was afraid.
Alexander leaned forward, squeezed her hand reassuringly then relinquished his hold on it before he did something foolish. “Why are you scared? There is no need to be with me.”
Her light laugh was nervous, her eyes soft and luminous. “I’m terrified of making reckless decisions once more, yet equally frightened that if I do not act on my feelings, I’ll be haunted by a lifetime of regret.”
“Ah, that’s quite the dilemma you’re in,” he murmured, wondering what reckless decision haunted her.
A pained grimace crossed her face. “Yes! It feels wretched and dreadful.”
“What is it that you want to do?”
She laced her fingers together and squeezed. Alexander arched a brow, noting the rising rosy pink in her softly rounded cheeks. He’d not think her a lady given to blushes so readily. Two in a matter of a minute.What is going on Francie?
Alexander waited, but she only stared at him like a deer about to bolt. “Tell me,” he urged, leaning forward, his heart jerking a harder rhythm.
Her throat worked on a tight swallow, and her entire body stilled. “Do not judge me,please.”
“Never would I judge you, Francie.”
For a breath of a moment, they stared at each other, then her mouth gently curved. That smile contained a sense of elegance and passion. Her green eyes sparkled, and she murmured, “I want to have a night of passion with a lover … only a night.”
She held her breath as she waited for his response. Only silence lingered. Alexander was simply too damn shocked. This was the last thing he had expected. Had he squandered his opportunity to win her affections by proceeding too cautiously? Over the past several weeks, he had aimed to convey his feelings through attentive gestures and meaningful conversations, hoping Francie would recognize his intentions as extending beyond mere friendship. But had he been too subtle, leaving her unaware of the deeper regard he held for her?
“You wish for an affair?” he asked, a bit hoarsely. Alexander forcefully pried open his fingers from the death grip it had on his armchair.
“No,” she exclaimed, catching her breath as she spoke. “An affair suggests an ongoing series of encounters. What I desire is just a single experience of true passion. I want to seize that one moment for myself, to claim something that’s exclusively mine and not given because of duty and obligation. Have I appalled you?”
“Never.”
Relief flushed her cheeks with an even rosier glow. “I know it is very wicked and scandalous of me … but I have been thinking about this for a few weeks. I know this want came from a place born of loneliness and forgotten dreams, but I pushed it away, determined to never be reckless again. Resisting my natural inclinations has been akin to a slow, torturous demise of my true self. Yet, I know that I must exercise restraint; otherwise, I risk plunging myself into a state of even more irrevocable ruin.”
Bloody hell. What experience had she lived through? “Francie—”
“I want to experience … passion … and desire!” A whimsical sigh left her, and she took another sip from the decanter before setting it down forcefully on the walnut table.
“Eventually, you would experience this with your husband,” he said cautiously.
Her eyes widened, and a brittle laugh escaped her. “While I have no desire to subject myself to that horrid snare, it seems I have little choice but to endure it. Nonetheless, I am acutely aware that I will not discover any genuine passion within my marriage. I would only be fulfilling a duty and obligation.”
Horrid? Only duty and obligation?By God, who hurt you?“Loving your husband is a possibility; it does not have to be solely a matter of duty or obligation. Marriage can offer much more than just a contractual agreement or a social expectation. It can be a union of genuine affection, emotional support, friendship, laughter, and companionship. I know this because I witnessed it with my sister’s union and the love my father and mother shared. While fulfilling your duty as a wife is important, it’s worth considering that you could also find joy, love, fidelity, and passion within the bonds of matrimony.”