Page 5 of Beguiling the Duke
“Are you not cold, Lizzie?” Matthew asked. “Your pelisse, while quite lovely, isn’t very sturdy.”
“Only a little,” she replied, offering him a brave smile. “The excitement of the snowball fight has kept me warmer than I expected.”
“Here,” he said, removing his outer coat and draping it over her shoulders, “you must wear this.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she murmured, her cheeks flushed from more than just the cold.
A companionable silence settled between them as they stood side by side, watching the light snowfall. Every so often, their hands would touch inadvertently, sparking a thrill of anticipation that coursed through Lizzie’s veins. She could feel her attraction to him deepening, like roots sinking into fertile soil.
“Tell me something,” Lizzie ventured, breaking the quietude. “What do you wish for Christmas?”
“Freedom,” Matthew replied without hesitation, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Freedom from expectations, from obligations... From the prison of my own making.”
Lizzie pondered his words, her own heart aching with empathy. She too had felt the weight of society’s demands, the stifling confines of expectation that shackled her to what society expected in a woman’s behavior. “I understand,” she said, taking his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
As their fingers intertwined, Lizzie felt a warmth spread through her body, radiating outwards from the point of contact. Even through their gloves, she felt the heat.
And then her stomach growled loudly, and she gasped in embarrassment. “Oh, dear.” She pressed a hand to her belly.
“Come, we must feed you,” Matthew said.
The magic of their connection faded quickly as they returned to the house and went their separate ways to change into dry clothing. But Lizzie had a new resolve. She would bed Matthew soon, perhaps even tonight.
CHAPTER 3
That evening, after enjoying a delightful supper with everyone, Lizzie was overwhelmed with all the activity. She couldn’t imagine why, since on an average night at Sutcliffe’s, she was surrounded by dozens of people laughing, talking, and grousing over losses. Yet on those nights, she could leave at any time, and as a guest of Verity’s, she could only retire to her room or do what she was doing now, looking for a place to hide away from the noise and bustle of the Christmas party.
They hadn’t even reached the pinnacle event, the actual ball where everyone who was anyone would attend. She looked forward to that night, for she loved to dance. But on this night, she felt tired. And disappointed, because she hadn’t seen Matthew since they’d gone their separate ways to change clothes. Her place of refuge, Verity’s morning room, was far enough away from where the others gathered that Lizzie felt alone enough to relax.
She stood at one of the two windows looking out at the clear night sky. The moon was bright, making the snow glow a pale blue. It was a beautiful, peaceful scene, something she never saw in the part of London where she lived.
A voice from behind her made her jump. “I’m not sure if I should apologize for disturbing you or express my delight in finding you.”
Recognizing the voice, Lizzie spun. “Matthew! You do not disturb me.” She smiled and pressed a hand against the butterflies that awoke in her belly.
Matthew came to her slowly and stopped near enough that she could reach out and touch his chest, but she didn’t. The dim lighting and the soft sound of the pianoforte drifting from the main hall created an intimate atmosphere, heightening the tension between them.
Lizzie could feel the heat emanating from his body, and she was acutely aware of the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Yet he didn’t speak, nor did he do what she longed for most—kiss her.
“Is something wrong?” Lizzie asked, noticing the furrow on his brow in the moonlight.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Matthew replied, shaking his head. “I’m trying to behave like a gentleman, and I’m a bit out of practice.”
“Why on earth would you want to do that?” Lizzie asked, arching an eyebrow and licking her lips as her smile broadened.
“I shouldn’t start something I don’t intend to finish,” Matthew said.
Her heart skipped a beat at his words, but he confused her. Why wouldn’t he wish to finish what they did together? “Matthew, I...” Lizzie began, but her voice trailed off as she noticed the mistletoe hanging above them. Why had Verity hung a kissing ball from the curtain rod, of all places?
They shared a glance, an unspoken acknowledgment passing between them as they leaned in for a kiss.
The kiss was gentle at first, a tentative exploration of each other’s lips. Matthew’s hands grasped her shoulders and pulled her closer to deepen the kiss. Lizzie wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed as she felt his breath on her cheek.
As they pulled away from each other, Lizzie was breathless and flushed with desire. She wanted more, so much more, than just a kiss from him. “Matthew?—”
A knock came from the open doorway, and a footman cleared his throat. “Pardon me, Your Grace. St. Ervan wishes to see you. He said to tell you it’s urgent. He awaits you in his study.”
“Thank you,” Matthew said, stepping away from Lizzie.