Page 84 of Never Besmirch a Wallflower: Dukes and Wallflowers

Miss Rowe blushed a deep red. “Again?”

“Yes.” He offered her a jaunty bow. “Did you not ask me to kiss you in the room next to this one?”

“That was more than a kiss.”

“It started as one.” He grinned, placed his hand on the door handle, then froze, terror squeezing his heart. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Miss Rowe asked, a deep frown appearing on her forehead.

“Footsteps.” He yanked open the door and peered into the empty hallway. “It sounded as though someone was running down the corridor.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EVELINE/HELENA

Miss Fernsby-Webb stumbled bleary-eyed into Helena’s dining room the next morning. “Did the newspaper report on the Duke of Lennox’s successful exorcism?”

“They did not.” Miss Webb snatched the paper away before Helena or her sister could read it and shoved the page under her plate.

“What about the story Miss Sinclair intended to run about Miss Rowe?” Miss Fernsby-Webb plopped down in an empty chair, drawing a teacup toward herself.

“That didn’t appear, either.”

“Then what did?” she snapped.

Miss Webb glanced down at her plate, pushing around her eggs with a fork. “Nothing interesting.”

“Liar!” Miss Fernsby-Webb reached across the table, ripped the newspaper away from her sister, unfurled the page, and gasped.

“That’s why I didn’t read it aloud,” Miss Webb grumbled, shooting her sister a dark glower.

“What does it say?” Helena asked softly, dread settling in her stomach.

What had Miss Drummond printed now?

Miss Fernsby-Webb exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Miss Webb, then read the passage in a clear tone.

“Virtuous no more? While most of the ton attended the Creasey’s annual masquerade last night, Miss Rowe and several others descended upon the Duke of Lennox’s house for a supernatural adventure. However, Miss Rowe had a different type of escapade in mind, for last night’s visit ended with her alone in the bedchamber of one of the town’s most notorious bachelors.”

“Did it name the man?” Helena asked, craning her neck to read the page.

“It did not,” Miss Fernsby-Webb replied, her eyes scanning over the paper, then her mouth popped open. “Is it true?”

Helena ducked her head, unable to hide the blush crawling into her skin.

“Did you…” Miss Fernsby-Webb’s face scrunched up as though she were searching for a less offensive question. “That is, is your reputation intact?”

The ghostly sensation of the Duke of Lennox’s mouth moved across her skin, and her blush deepened.

“Mainly.” Helena glanced at Miss Webb, hoping for assistance. “He kissed me.”

And drew his fingers across the most intimate part of her body, eliciting a foreign response that left her trembling.

“Who was the man?” Miss Webb asked, her voice giving no indication of her thoughts.

“The Duke of Lennox,” Helena said, suspecting they already guessed his name.

“Excellent!” Miss Webb clapped her hands together, bouncing up and down in her chair. “After his attentive behavior the past few weeks, we believed he nurtured a fondness for you.”