Page 13 of His Forbidden Duchess (Forbidden Lords #3)

Chapter Thirteen

A n entire week had passed before Felix found himself at the next social event: a ball that he would have been reluctant to attend were it not for the possibility that he would see Eloise.

He had not stopped thinking about her since their aborted private dance lesson: the curve of her spine as she pressed her body against him and the taste of her lips, like sunlight mixed with the finest red wine.

With a sigh, he immediately went in search of Percy. That is what he needed—distraction by a man who would not allow him to wallow in anything, let alone Eloise Manning. He marched immediately to the drinks table at the far end of the ballroom.

If Percy was anywhere, it would be next to the alcohol.

I could do with a tipple or two myself.

“Felix Greystone, as I live and breathe,” Percy said as Felix approached. “I had almost forgotten your existence. It has been so long since I last saw you! Do not tell me that your unsatisfied lust is keeping you indoors?”

“You have never been particularly amusing, Percy,” Felix retorted dryly. “I do not know why you are now trying to be.”

Percy let out a laugh. “Goodness, we are in a good mood, are we not?”

“Mine will improve when you pour the damn wine.”

Felix nodded to the decanter of wine on the table, red as blood and as thick as desire. Percy grinned and did as he was told. Felix watched as the sparkling liquid filled his glass, and he licked his lips in anticipation.

“I sense that this bet of yours really has you rattled.” Percy said, handing Felix the glass.

Felix tossed back his drink in a single gulp then shoved the glass back into Percy’s hand and nodded for another.

“Not at all,” Felix lied, taking the second glass and sipping more carefully this time.

He leaned against the table and scanned the ballroom, searching for Eloise.

“I always knew you were licentious old fool, Felix, but even I thought you could manage a couple of weeks. Why not cheat? I cannot imagine you have so much honor that you would not find an old maid in need to satisfy, all in the secret of your own home. Eloise would never find out.”

Felix’s eyes darkened at the mention of her name. He didn’t like the sound of it upon anyone else’s lips, and he realized just how possessive he had become as of late. He gripped the stem of his wine glass, his jaw clenched, but he didn’t bother to answer Percy.

“You know, old boy, I have heard it said once or twice?—”

“There,” Felix muttered, interrupting whatever nonsense Percy was spouting.

He narrowed his eyes at the newcomers, his heart racing and his nerves humming with anticipation.

There she was. Her gown was scarlet red, a daring color for even the most forward of ladies. It clung invitingly to her curves so that her shape was obvious to anyone who cared to look. The neckline, a touch lower than she would normally wear, was tight against her chest, her ample bosom threatening to spill over with the slightest change in gravity.

Felix licked his lips again, his grip on the wine glass ever tighter.

Come to me.

Percy followed his gaze and laughed once more. “Oh, I see,” he muttered. “That is the source of your frustration.”

“I do not know what you are going on about, Percy,” Felix said though his eyes did not leave Eloise.

How I would like to rip that gown from her body and inspect every inch of her.

“And King George is not as mad as a hatter. You know that no good will come of this, do you not?”

“I simply do not know what you are talking about,” Felix repeated, his words more punctuated this time.

“No, of course not. But she is Jeremy’s sister. His baby sister. You know that means all sorts of trouble for you.”

Felix gripped the glass even harder. Part of him hoped it would break, shatter in his hands so that he could experience a distracting rush of pain and feel something other than overwhelming lust for a woman he knew he could never have.

Percy shook his head as the two men stood, watching over Eloise as she greeted the other guests, their eyes tracking her every movement.

“I admit she is something to look at, especially this evening, but really, Felix. Do you not think this is simply a symptom of your lack of… sensual activity, shall we say? Is winning this bet worth risking your longstanding friendship with Jeremy? I dare say there are finer women out there to lose your life over.”

Percy chuckled, not realizing that his words were not amusing Felix. If anything, they only riled him further.

I really do need to get my emotions under control.

“I told you,” Felix said in steady, measured voice, his eyes still on Eloise, “you are reading the situation entirely incorrectly.”

He watched as Mortcombe spotted her, and his jaw dropped open. Felix knew he had taught Eloise too well. The man sauntered up to her, eyeing her as though she was a cut of mouthwatering meat, and immediately commenced fawning over her.

Eloise responded as he had taught her, throwing her head back in laughter to expose her throat, moving her body in such a way that Mortcombe could not help but look. Mortcombe responded as Felix had anticipated, taking her hand and kissing it then leading her immediately to the dance floor.

“Quite,” Percy replied with a hint of disbelief. “But perhaps, in the meantime, I should take this.”

He slid the glass from Felix’s iron grip and placed it on the table, but Felix barely noticed because his entire focus was on Eloise.

Eloise had sensed the ferocity of Felix’s gaze as soon as she had entered the ballroom. It called her like a beacon although she made a concerted effort not to look back at him. She didn’t trust herself, not after what had happened at his home and then later, in her own bed.

However, it pleased her that he was looking. In fact, as she threw her head back with laughter and moved her body, she did it not so much for Mortcombe’s sake, but for Felix’s. She wanted him to admire her from afar, and if it caught Mortcombe’s attention as well, then all the better.

“Lady Eloise,” Mortcombe said as he approached her.

The rapid blinking of his eyelids informed her that he approved of the gown. That was something. While the way he looked at her made her feel soiled, she hoped it would lead to a marriage proposal soon, if not that very night.

“Lord Mortcombe. I am so pleased to see you again. You have been on my mind ever since the musicale.”

“I have?” he asked, surprised but pleased.

“Indeed. Your knowledge of music was simply…” She couldn’t think of a suitable word and so changed the entire subject instead. “I do hope that you will teach me about many more subjects in the future.”

Mortcombe beamed with pride. “I shall teach you everything you need to know, My Lady. And may I say, you have selected such a beautiful gown for the evening!”

Eloise looked down at herself as if it were nothing. “Oh, this? Do you like it? I was uncertain about it.”

“It is certainly a bold choice,” her mother said from behind her. “But then my Eloise looks beautiful in anything. Do you not agree, Lord Mortcombe?”

“I most certainly do,” he replied, his eyes rigidly fixed on Eloise’s body.

Eloise wished the man would look away. She sensed that Felix was still watching and appraising, but his gaze felt infinitely different. Realizing that Felix couldn’t pull his eyes away from her, his riveted attention left her with a strange sense of satisfaction, and it made her even more determined that she would not back down.

She would seduce Mortcombe before Felix’s very eyes.

“Lady Eloise, would you care to dance with me? I would wager that your dance card is clear since I managed to catch you immediately upon your arrival.”

“Why certainly, Lord Mortcombe. That would be delightful.”

It was the first dance of the night and thus, a country dance rather than a waltz, and Eloise was relieved. She couldn’t bear the thought of being as close to Mortcombe as she had been to Felix though she did bear in mind all that he had taught her.

She stood provocatively, ensuring her target could see every part of her body and appreciate it. She gazed at him as if only he existed, as if she were ready to lay down for him.

But it was strange. With Felix such actions gave her a thrill, but with Mortcombe, she only felt uncomfortable. His scent was also different. Felix smelled of cigars and sandalwood mingled with the aroma of his own body that appealed to Eloise’s senses.

In contrast, Mortcombe smelled as if he had not bathed in months, his tailcoat worn time and again without the benefit of a wash.

The dance, as always, was lively and bright, and though Mortcombe was her official dance partner, their companions changed throughout the set, meaning Eloise was given a reprieve from him. By the end of the set, she was even laughing and enjoying herself, all the while aware of Felix’s gaze still boring into her.

“Goodness, I am now quite out of breath.” she laughed as the music came to an end and the dancers drifted away.

“Perhaps you would like to take a seat, My Lady,” Mortcombe offered, “and I shall fetch you some lemonade to refresh you?”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Eloise replied.

The idea of a lemonade was appealing; the time away from Mortcombe even more so.

She settled onto a velvet-covered bench against one wall of the ballroom and fanned herself, relishing the cool air as it rushed over her cheeks. She risked a glance at Felix.

He remained where he had stood when she had first entered, his eyes still on her. Their gazes met. The entire ballroom instantly melted away, and the force of their connection throbbed in Eloise’s chest.

“Mortcombe as your first dance choice?”

Eloise jumped at Hannah’s voice and turned to look up at her. “Pardon?”

Hannah huffed and threw herself onto the bench next to her friend. “You have not even greeted me this evening, yet I see you accepting a dance from Lord Mortcombe. Honestly, Eloise, I do not know what has gotten into you as of late.”

“Whatever do you mean? I did not see you; that is all.”

Eloise snuck another glance in Felix’s direction, but he had disappeared. Her heart sank, missing him already. She shook her head in an effort to derail the thought.

“I mean, Lord Mortcombe? He is such an arrogant bore. You have always detested him, Eloise. Why on earth are you now spending quite so much time with him?”

Eloise tutted and looked away, fanning herself faster. Her friend would never understand.

“I have told you before, Hannah. He is the practical choice.”

Hannah groaned. “There are a number of practical choices who are not quite so?—”

“Shh,” Eloise said quickly. “He is coming back.”

Mortcombe waddled through the crowd, cradling a glass of lemonade as though it was the most precious thing in the world.

“For you, Lady Eloise,” he said with a bow then turned to Hannah. “Good evening, Lady Hannah.”

“Lord Mortcombe,” she replied shortly, offering a weak curtsy.

“There you are, My Lord! I have been looking all over for you,” Lady Arabella said, marching over to the little group and situating herself between Eloise and Mortcombe.

“You have?” Mortcombe asked, his eyes brightening in the same way that they did for Eloise.

She scowled. The man did not have any special affection for her. He would become smitten with any pretty lady who deigned to give him a little attention.

“Lady Arabella,” Eloise said curtly.

Arabella’s fiery eyes flashed toward them, her lips in a tight line. “Lady Eloise. Lady Hannah.” She turned back to Lord Mortcombe, and her expression instantly brightened. “I was hoping we would get a chance to talk, My Lord. Would you care to escort me to the drinks table? I am positively parched.”

“Of course, My Lady. I would be delighted.”

Eloise’s eyes narrowed as the pair walked away. She would not allow Lady Arabella to charm away the man who was to become her husband.

“Good,” Hannah said. “I do not think I could stand to be in his company for another second.”

“Hannah,” Eloise reprimanded. “He is not?—”

“Is Mortcombe on your card for the second dance?”

Eloise froze at the voice that came from behind her, the voice she now knew so well. The one that she constantly dreamed about.

Felix.

She turned and smiled at him just as Hannah leaned over her shoulder and said, “I shall leave you to it, Eloise,” and disappeared into the crowd.

“It seems he is not,” she replied.

Eloise had no idea how she was able to utter the words. Having him so close to her again had set her mind whirring and her body churning. Their kiss flashed through her mind, and she did everything she could to resist reaching forward and kissing him once more.

“In that case,” Felix said, holding his hand, “perhaps this dance could be mine.”