Page 10 of His Forbidden Duchess (Forbidden Lords #3)

Chapter Ten

“ Y our luck is running thin tonight, old boy,” Percy chuckled, swiping up his winnings with a flourish.

Felix slouched in his chair, holding a half-empty glass of brandy in his hand. Across from him, Percy grinned as he tossed a handful of coins onto the table, his carefree demeanor a sharp contrast to Felix’s brooding mood. The gaming hell, their usual haunt, was not as entertaining that evening.

Felix barely registered the taunt, his mind swirling elsewhere. He had not been able to shake the image of Eloise from his thoughts, not since that moment earlier in the day when she had delicately popped that sweet between her lips, her gaze darting to his as if she knew exactly what effect she had on him.

The sight of her mouth, so innocent yet so sensual, had been tormenting him ever since. He took another sip of his drink, but it did little to quench the fire in his belly.

Surely it is only because I have abstained for so long. Nothing to do with Eloise at all.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” a soft voice purred, breaking into his thoughts.

Felix glanced up to see a pair of women approaching, dressed in provocative gowns, their eyes glinting with intention. The one with dark curls tumbling over her bare shoulders leaned close to him, her hand resting lightly on the back of his chair.

The scent of jasmine wafted from her skin as she whispered, “Care for some company tonight?”

Percy, already halfway to merry drunkenness, welcomed the second woman with open arms, pulling her onto his lap as he laughed. But Felix barely acknowledged the one hovering beside him. His mind was a thousand miles away—or rather, a mere few streets away where Eloise likely sat in her mother’s drawing room, reading or embroidering by the fire, blissfully unaware of the turmoil she had caused.

The woman by his side trailed her fingers along his arm, but Felix’s body didn’t react. His desire was tied to someone else—someone who wasn’t here, someone he could not have. He could feel his frustration mounting, the need for release gnawing at him, but no matter how much he wanted to quiet the storm inside, the woman before him wasn’t the one who could accomplish it.

All he could see was Eloise. The way she had smiled at him earlier, that sweet melting on her tongue after her lips had curved around it. The image had seared itself into his mind, haunting him with its unspoken promises.

He imagined those lips upon him, her tongue working its magic across his body. He cleared his throat and adjusted his breeches, thinking of Eloise’s pert behind perched on his lap as she languidly kissed his neck, her hands tracing over his body.

How had she managed to undo him with something so simple? He cursed under his breath, shifting in his seat, trying to clear his thoughts, but his efforts were of no use.

The woman leaned in closer, her breath hot against his ear. “What is the matter, love? You seem distracted. I do hope I am not too much for you.”

He inhaled deeply, turning to her and applying whatever was left of his conscious effort that had not been clouded by the drink inside of him. “I am here,” he grinned. “It has simply been a long day.”

He knew what he had to do to get Eloise off his mind. He had to allow himself that pleasure again, bet or no bet. How would she find out, anyhow?

The woman’s eyes burned bright as she stared right at him. “Perhaps I could help you find some… release?”

Without asking again, the woman took him by the hand, and he followed her blindly. He still held onto some weak hope that he could go through with this.

To hell with the bet. Eloise will not find out. How could she?

He walked down a narrow corridor lit by low-burning sconces, the murmur and voices of the gaming floor slowly fading behind him. Only then did he realize that the woman’s friend was doing the same with Percy.

His own footsteps were heavy, each step more reluctant than the last as they approached the doors leading to separate private rooms. Percy, still riding the high of the evening, clapped Felix on the back.

“Do not look so grim, old friend,” Percy said, his words slightly slurred from the brandy. “You need this. Clear your head; enjoy yourself.”

Felix forced a tight smile though the unease gnawing at his chest only deepened. His body craved release—desperately, maddeningly—but his mind remained tangled with thoughts of Eloise.

No matter how much he wanted to escape her pull, she was everywhere. She had been ever since that incredible moment in the sweet shop. His mind played it over and over like a penance.

Percy disappeared into his room with a boisterous laugh, the door clicking shut behind him while Felix hesitated outside his own door. The woman from the gaming floor stood beside him, her eyes dark with promise. She smiled softly, pulling him inside.

Once the door was closed, the room felt even more oppressive. The thick velvet drapes, the heavy scent of perfume in the air—it was all wrong.

Felix watched as the woman began to undress, her movements slow and deliberate, meant to entice. She approached him, placing her hands upon his chest, but all he could see was Eloise. Her fingers, her smile, the way her eyes had sparkled when their gazes had locked across the room earlier that day.

The woman pressed herself to him, her lips grazing his neck as she whispered something he barely heard. His hands moved on instinct, grasping her waist, pulling her nearer—but there was no fire, no desire that matched the urgency in his blood. It was as though his body knew, as though it refused to give in to anything that wasn’t her.

Eloise.

Her name echoed in his mind like a constant refrain, drowning out everything else. Felix swallowed hard, feeling his pulse quicken, but not for the woman in front of him. His hands stilled, his breathing uneven as frustration coursed through him.

She kissed him, her lips soft against his, but he didn’t kiss her back. He could not. What had once been so right now felt sordid. The only way he could perform, he realized, would be with Eloise herself.

It was that stupid bet. It had to be that. He wanted to win the fair way. He frowned at the thought. He pulled away, his brow furrowing as he turned his head, his eyes fixed on some distant point in the room.

“Is something wrong?” the woman asked, her voice a mixture of confusion and concern.

Yes, it was. With him.

Felix closed his eyes, jaw clenched. It wasn’t her fault. She had done nothing wrong, yet he could not bring himself to continue. He released her gently, stepping back, his heart racing for reasons he could not quite explain.

“I—” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration mounting. “I cannot do this.”

The woman’s expression softened, her hands lowering. She didn’t press him, just nodded slightly, though the rejection was clear. Felix could not look her in the eye as he moved away, the weight of his own thoughts heavier than ever.

He collapsed onto the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands. How had it come to this? Every touch, every thought, every desire was consumed by the image of Eloise. No matter how much he tried to shake it, she haunted him. The memory of her laughter, the way she looked at him. She was the only woman he wanted.

And yet, she is the only woman I cannot have.

The dark-haired woman quietly gathered her things, understanding in her silence, and left the room without another word. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Felix alone in the dim light. He exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping forward.

The need for release was still there, a raw ache inside him, but it was not something any woman there could satisfy.

All right, Eloise. You can do this.

Those were the words Eloise kept repeating inside her own mind as she moved gracefully through the gathering, her pale green gown fluttering around her as she pretended to take interest in the scattered conversations.

It was a garden party that she had not been particularly keen on attending, but she knew he would be there.

Only, she wasn’t certain who he was. Mortcombe, certainly. Or was it?

She wandered toward the refreshments table where delicate cakes and sweets were artfully arranged next to glasses of champagne. A few of her friends stood nearby, laughing and gossiping, but Eloise lingered at the edge of the group, her eyes discreetly scanning the crowd.

There he is.

She spotted him across the lawn, deep in conversation with a group of gentlemen. Mortcombe, always perfectly polished in his attire, stood out with his well-cut coat and confident stance. His eyes found hers, and he smiled that self-satisfied smirk she had grown to loathe. Eloise forced herself to return his smile and made her way back to the refreshments table.

If she had to endure his company, she might as well enjoy something sweet to make it bearable.

As she lingered near the table, selecting a small confection, she felt Mortcombe’s presence behind her. His approach was deliberate and slow—he liked to make an entrance.

Eloise took a breath, steadying herself.

“Lady Eloise,” Mortcombe’s smooth, deep voice came from behind her. She could feel his eyes on her body. “That gown… it looks superb on you.”

“Lord Mortcombe,” she greeted him, turning with a polite smile, though her heart wasn’t in it. “Always so kind.”

He stepped closer, standing almost too near, and Eloise resisted the urge to step back. She glanced around, hoping for a distraction, but the guests were all absorbed in their own conversations. Her duty, it seemed, could not be avoided.

Besides, she had an agenda to fulfill.

“I could not help but notice you from across the garden,” he continued, his eyes sweeping over her in a way that made her skin crawl. “I must say, you are the highlight of this event.”

Eloise laughed softly though the sound was hollow to her ears. “You flatter me, My Lord.”

Mortcombe’s gaze moved to the sweets table. “Ah, I see you have chosen a treat,” he said with an amused gleam in his eyes. “Do share—are they as delightful as they look?”

Eloise hesitated. The last thing she wanted was to perform for him, to mimic the playful banter she might exchange with someone like Felix, who she could not get out of her mind. But with Lord Mortcombe, every smile and every word felt forced. Still, she knew what needed to be done.

She looked down at the small, delicate, sugar-dusted confection in her hand and slowly raised it to her lips. This time, there was no enjoyment in the gesture, no teasing glance or hint of pleasure.

She knew she had to feign her interest in anything related to Mortcombe. Eloise suddenly realized that with Felix, it all came naturally. She did not have to pretend.

Pretend Felix is in front of you now.

This time, she bit into it with deliberate slowness, knowing that Lord Mortcombe was watching her closely, waiting for a reaction. She tried to mimic joy and pleasure, tantalizing movement of her lips, but she felt ridiculous. She swallowed, her face carefully composed into one of polite enjoyment.

“Quite good,” she said, her voice pleasant but detached.

Mortcombe blinked once and then smiled, clearly pleased with her effort. “I thought as much. You have excellent taste, Lady Eloise.”

She forced another smile, feeling a twinge of resentment in her chest.

She didn’t want his compliments or his attention. Yet here she was, performing for him like some kind of puppet, bound by the expectations of her family and society but most of all, by the debt that hung around her family’s collective neck like a noose. It made her feel trapped, and the more she played the part, the more stifling it became.

“I am glad you approve,” she replied, trying to maintain her composure.

As their uncomfortable conversation dragged on, Eloise felt herself slipping further into the hollow role she had forced herself to play. Mortcombe, ever self-assured, continued his subtle flirtations, but her patience was wearing thin.

Just as she was about to force another polite response, salvation arrived.

“Mortcombe!” A familiar voice cut through the tension, and Eloise turned to see Lord Haversham approaching, his jovial expression and booming voice a welcome interruption. “I have been looking for you all afternoon. There is a matter which requires your immediate attention.”

Mortcombe’s expression tightened, clearly displeased at being pulled away from Eloise. Still, he could not ignore Haversham’s presence. He offered Eloise a thin, apologetic smile that barely masked his frustration, and she was pleased, at least, to see that her plan was still working.

“Lady Eloise, it seems duty calls. But I do hope we can continue this delightful conversation soon. Perhaps we can try some of the other confections upon my return.”

Eloise nodded, the relief she felt hidden beneath a mask of polite composure. “Of course, Lord Mortcombe.”

With a lingering glance, Mortcombe allowed himself to be led away by Haversham, leaving Eloise standing alone at the table. As soon as he was out of sight, she let out a long breath, the tension draining from her body.

Her sense of relief was quickly replaced by a creeping feeling of discomfort and dirtiness, as though she had been sullied by the mere act of entertaining Lord Mortcombe’s advances. She felt trapped in her role, playing the charming lady for a man she could hardly bear to be near. She didn’t like it, but she was determined to see it through. It was the only weapon she had in her arsenal.

Unbidden, thoughts of Felix drifted like gossamer before her eyes. Memories of his intense gaze, his gentle touch, his acerbic wit, and his genuine kindness wrapped her in a dream-like cocoon and muffled her senses.

Everything felt so real with Felix. He had looked at her as if she was the only person in the room. The moment they’d shared the previous week in the sweet shop, when his eyes had darkened with desire as she had eaten the confection, played on a continuous loop in her mind. She could still feel the warmth of his attention and the fire it had ignited within her.

The contrast between Felix’s and Mortcombe’s gazes was stark. Mortcombe’s eyes were calculating, assessing her as though she was a prize to be won, an ornament to acquire that would attest to his success. Felix, on the other hand, had made her feel alive, as though he saw her, not how she could benefit his outward appearance.

But Eloise knew better than to indulge in such thoughts. Felix was a fantasy, a dream she could never afford to chase. Her family’s future depended on Mortcombe, not on the fleeting pleasure she felt whenever she was in Felix’s presence.

With a frustrated sigh, Eloise turned back to the sweets table. Her hand hovered briefly over the delicate confections before she grabbed a sugary treat and gobbled it up like the beast Felix had accused her of being.

For a brief moment, it was liberating: devouring something the way she wanted, not in the way society expected her to behave. But even that small pleasure was fleeting. She wiped her fingers on a napkin, quickly regaining her decorum.

It is all for the family.

Suddenly, Eloise heard a deep voice from behind her.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk… now, is that what I taught you?”