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CHAPTER THREE

The cottage came into view as Eliza’s carriage drove up the dirt road.

Her heart thumped wildly in her chest as she ran her sweaty palms over her day dress.

Her throat was parched but she could not bring herself to wet it—the notion of swallowing nauseated her in this agitated state Preparing for the trip had been simple.

Methodical. She had barely considered the reality of her decision.

But the ride to Robert’s secluded retreat had rendered her dicked in the nob.

Eliza had even left Lucy at home. The solitude of her journey, however, had given her an opportunity to doubt this decision.

Having a tryst was one tawdry issue, but with her deceased husband's friend? Not to mention one of ill-repute? Robert’s reputation had only worsened over the years, especially as each year passed and he remained unwed.

She would be shunned if anyone were to find out.

She peeked through the carriage window to see him standing outside the cottage.

It was too late to turn back now. Eliza sucked in a breath at his image, the sun giving him a shimmering glow.

Tall and broad and in half-dress with his trousers rolled up to the ankles, he was every inch the dashing rake.

The carriage halted and she settled back to wait for the driver. The door opened, and she was eye to eye with Robert. She had forgotten the depth of his warm brown eyes and nervously licked her lips. He noticed and arched an eyebrow.

“Lady Hartwell.” He extended his hand to assist her.

“Your Grace,” she responded, hating the scratchy sound of her dry throat.

“Let us agree on one thing at this very moment–I am Robert, and you are Eliza. We shall not stand on ceremony.”

“Agreed,” she said with a smile, hoping he had not noticed her sweaty palm.

“Let’s get you inside, so you can rest and replenish after your journey. Did you encounter any trouble?”

“Thank you, Robert, that would be wonderful. While the journey was fine, I have been looking forward to washing up and a cool drink.”

Shy under his gaze, she resolved to be brave and put out her arm for Robert.

“Shall we?”

“Music to my ears, Eliza. You have no idea how I have looked forward to the pleasure of your company.”

Heaven forbid .