Page 13 of Beguiling the Duke
Lizzie smiled, her eyes softening. She lifted a hand to cup his cheek, her touch gentle and soothing. As she stretched to kiss him, another knock sounded on the door.
Matthew sighed. “Who is it?” he barked.
“St. Ervan,” came the voice through the door. “I must speak with you.”
Rising, Lizzie said, “I’ll leave you to take care of whatever’s wrong. I’ll be in my room, if you’d like company later.”
“Thank you,” Matthew said. He walked her to the door and opened it, standing aside to let St. Ervan enter, but wishing he was following Lizzie upstairs.
CHAPTER 7
Lizzie only made it up one flight of stairs before realization hit her and she raced to her bedchamber, heart pounding, cheeks flushed. How could she have been so foolish? In less than a week, Matthew had turned her world upside down.
Once inside her bedchamber, she shut the door and leaned against the oak panels, catching her breath. Her maid, Mary, glanced up from the hearth. “My lady, is everything all right?”
Lizzie swallowed hard. “Yes, Mary. Everything is perfectly fine.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. She couldn’t very well confess she was in danger of losing her heart to a man she barely knew.
Mary nodded and returned to stoking the fire. Lizzie pressed a hand to her chest, willing her heart to slow. She couldn’t see Matthew again. Not when every stolen kiss threatened to crumble the walls around her heart.
She had loved once, with a love as deep as the sea and as endless as the horizon. Losing Alfred had nearly destroyed her. To open her heart again, only to suffer the same anguish...it was too frightening to contemplate.
Resolved, Lizzie straightened. “Mary, please begin packing. We’re leaving first thing tomorrow.”
Mary dipped into a curtsy. “As you wish, my lady. I’ll start packing at once.”
Lizzie nodded, a lump rising in her throat. Fleeing was the only sensible choice, no matter how it pained her. The duke had breached her defenses once. She couldn’t risk him capturing her heart entirely.
An hour or so later, a sharp rap rattled the bedchamber door. Lizzie started, pulse leaping. She’d hoped he would be so busy he’d fail to come, just like last time.
She crossed the bedchamber on unsteady legs and opened the door. Matthew filled the doorway, radiating restless energy. “May I come in?”
She hesitated before stepping aside.
His gaze dipped to the open trunks behind her. Understanding flashed in his eyes, followed by a shuttering of emotion. “You’re returning to London?”
Lizzie gripped the door handle to still her trembling hands. “I’d always planned to leave tomorrow. There’s no sense in putting off the packing. Mary, you can stop for now. I’ll call you.”
“I see.” Matthew stepped closer, crowding her against the door frame. The scent of sandalwood and mint enveloped her, fraying her resolve. “Must you go so soon? Or why not come with me to Teversham Manor?”
His breath stirred the curls at her temple. Lizzie stiffened, willing herself not to lean into his warmth. “I cannot.”
“Why?” His voice roughened. “Damn it, Lizzie, talk to me.”
She stared at his cravat, unable to meet his gaze. “You know this was a mere diversion. Nothing more. It’s time I returned home.”
“Nothing more?” Matthew grasped her chin, forcing her to look at him. “That’s how you feel about our time together this week?”
Lizzie wrenched free of his grip, her pulse pounding. “Please go.”
“Not until you admit this means something.” He braced his hands on either side of her head. “You feel it too, I know you do.”
Panic and longing warred within her. She placed her hands on his chest, meaning to push him away, but lingered instead, tempted by the steady beat of his heart.
No. She couldn’t lose herself in Matthew’s embrace again.
Summoning her strength, Lizzie shoved him back. “Go,” she said, low and sharp. “Now.”
For a long moment, Matthew stared at her, jaw clenched. Then he stepped back, pale eyes shuttered. “Goodbye, Lizzie.”