Page 17 of Her Rogue of a Duke
Before she could finish her sentence, though, the Duke reached out and grabbed her shoulders. Pulling her close, he pressed his lips to hers in a searing kiss that stole her breath and made her legs weak. She clutched at his arms, clinging to him for support. As suddenly as it began, however, the kiss ended, and he stepped back, putting her at arms’ distance once more.
Francesca stared up at him, her cheeks flushed and her body buzzing as though lightning was coursing through her veins.
“What… what was that?” she slurred, still reeling from the kiss. “Why did you do that?”
“You owed me for last night,” he told her. She frowned, confused by what he meant, but he continued, “Do not worry about your gowns. I have arranged for several new ones to be made for you for the upcoming social events we will be attending. A seamstress will be arriving to take your measurements.”
“Oh… thank you,” she managed to say.
Giving her a firm nod, he turned without another word and walked back into the study, leaving her speechless, still trying to process what had just transpired.
CHAPTER TEN
Francesca wandered the impressive halls of Elmcroft Manor, in awe of the opulence surrounding her. The manor was vast and so richly decorated, she felt out of place and almost afraid to touch anything. There were marble statues and busts, as well as delicate-looking vases decorating the rooms she explored. The walls were covered in old, intricate tapestries and large paintings that looked like priceless masterpieces. The Duke’s house was like a museum. It was such a stark contrast to her own modest little home, she could hardly believe they were neighbors. Could hardly believe they lived within the same world if she were being entirely honest.
It was difficult to get a sense of who the Duke was from his home, however. This manor was a testament to the lofty position he held in society. It was the seat of his Dukedom, but it did not give insight into the man himself. The bare corridors and seemingly never-replaced furnishings were proof enough of that. He was proving a difficult puzzle to work through. She had always seen him as an aloof, cold-hearted, arrogant snob…butthe more time she spent with him, the more that image of him shifted and changed.
He had welcomed her into his home without question.
Had provided for her without expecting anything in return.
Had even agreed to her self-driven arrangement with little to no pushback.
At every turn, he was proving to be far more patient, generous, and understanding than she would have thought possible.
The Duke was proving to be a far better person than she had initially believed, but she still did not understand his staunch animosity toward her. Why had he always seemed to hate her so much?
Francesca continued roaming through the house, taking in the rooms and splendor of the manor as she waited for darkness to fall. She planned on sneaking back to her own home under the cover of night to retrieve a few personal items and pieces of clothing, but most importantly, her diary.
It would be easy enough to get to her house and gather her belongings, as the estates neighbored each other, but she wished she did not have to sneak over there like a thief. It was not right, and it was not fair. Though it was not as large and grand as the Duke’s, her house was still her home and she wished she could go back.
Soon, she told herself.Soon, I will be able to go home and this will all just feel like a bad dream.
As evening approached, rain began to fall, but Francesca was still determined to go. When the sun finally set and the moon was high in the sky, Francesca slipped out the servants’ exit of the manor and hurried across the gardens, until she reached an unbecoming gate tucked amid bushes that bordered the two estates. From there, it was not a long walk to her house.
Wrapping her cloak tightly around her, Francesca braved the cold, rain-soaked journey. Her clothing was sopping and she shivered from the cold, but she felt a strange warmth bloom within her when she spotted the small manor tucked between a grove of trees. It was dark and quiet, but memories of her life there before her father’s untimely death soared through her mind. It almost brought her to tears, but she pushed it aside for now, focusing on the task at hand.
But as she drew closer to the quaint manor, a golden glow in the distance caught her eye. It was… a lantern? Someone else was approaching the house. She frowned.
Who could it be at this hour?
Ducking low to keep out of sight, Francesca snuck closer, just enough so she could make out who the figure was. The lamplight illuminated her cousin Gerard’s face. Even through the downpour, Francesca was certain it was him.
Hiding behind an overgrown hedge, Francesca watched as Gerard lumbered toward the house and began peering into the windows. Her heart raced and a shiver ran through her, but it was not from the chill of the rain. It seemed Gerard was already suspicious and was trying to check in on her. There was no way she could get into the house that night so long as he was snooping around, and she could not stay out in the rain for fear of catching a fever.
Francesca had no choice but to abandon her plan for now and return to Elmcroft Manor.
Bitterness weighed on her as she walked through the manor’s back door and shed her soaked cloak. The rest of her clothing was just as wet, however, and she knew she could not be caught in such a state. Not only was she a mess, but her appearance would raise questions she had no desire to answer. She snuck her way through the first floor to the stairs and managed to make her way up to the second floor. Hearing a noise from behind her, she quickly slipped down the corridor but then heard another noise up ahead. It sounded as though someone was walking her way and would round the corner ahead of her at any moment.
Glancing around in a slight panic, Francesca found the first open door to her right and hurried inside.
As she stepped through the doorway, she found herself entering a massive library. Bookshelves, filled with countless volumes, rose to the high ceiling. There were ladders to reach the tallest sections, and in the center hung an unlit brass chandelier, while scattered candles throughout the room and a fireplace ablazeprovided a warm, inviting atmosphere. It gave the room a soft and cozy glow. The chamber appeared empty, so Francesca took another step, intent on exploring a little more.
However, the sudden movement of a dark silhouette by the tall window to her left startled her. She whipped around and found the Duke sitting in a window seat, watching her with a curious expression on his face. His white shirt, largely unbuttoned, revealed a glimpse of his chest hair and hung loosely over his sculpted torso, contrasting with the neat fit of his black trousers. And his hair, typically well-groomed, now fell in a more tousled manner, strands drifting across his forehead when he arched his brows. His nonchalant yet striking appearance was a trance. And he broke her out of it not a second too soon.
“Lady Francesca?” His voice was deep and quiet but somehow carried across the entire space between them.
Surprised by his presence, Francesca took a step backward, bumping into the library door and letting out another squeal.