by Naomi Boom
Table of Contents
Excerpt
To Dodge a Duke
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
A word about the author…
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Also available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Logan smirked and stood to tower over her.
“I think you welcomed my advances very much. I would prove it if you ask.”
Eleanor glared at him and took a step back. “That is unnecessary. I already know I did not appreciate the first example.” Besides, even if she had enjoyed it, it would be inadvisable for her to allow another kiss to transpire. His smirk remained glued to his handsome face, and she said, “Oh, stop it. You think much too highly of yourself.”
He chuckled in response and took a step closer. Eleanor, naturally, took another step back until he reached out and pulled her to him in a rough embrace. Incensed, Eleanor asked, “Who do you think you are? There is never an acceptable time for you to behave so impudently toward me!”
His arm imprisoned her as he smiled down on her. “Isn’t there? Would it have been preferable to fall into the ravine?”
She swung her head around to find they stood mere steps from the rushing waters. She gulped and turned to face him. Obviously, it was best to stay away from the ravine, but she would not concede his point. “Yes. It would have been much more desirable.”
To Dodge a Duke
by
Naomi Boom
Entangled Nobility, Book 2
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
To Dodge a Duke
COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Naomi Mehnert
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by RJ Morris
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Tea Rose Edition, 2017
Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1468-6
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1469-3
Entangled Nobility, Book 2
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
Thank you to those who continue to support me,
and to my husband: Go Dawgs.
Chapter 1
“Why me?” Eleanor sighed as she made a valiant attempt to focus past the rain pouring down around her. Her half boots made sucking sounds with each step, and the only part of her that remained dry was, well, nothing. Her outing had turned quite bleak and, judging by the darkened sky, would not improve.
If she had known the weather would take such a drastic turn, she would have sent a servant to mail her letter, rather than make the journey on her own. On foot, no less. Fresh air and a bit of sunshine had lured her out of her warm, and dry, home, and she had foolishly followed its call.
The boom of thunder interrupted her thoughts, and she squinted through the rain to determine her location. She would never make it home at this rate. Granted, she had no options at present but to continue walking and to try to ignore the angry weather swirling about her.
As she trudged along, growing colder by the minute, the shape of a carriage materialized through the rain. She stepped to the side of the road and tried to arrange her sodden blonde hair into a bun, just in case the passerby stopped. Unfortunately, her hair was beyond repair, and she gave up her attempts to look presentable.
The unmarked carriage pulled to a halt as four matched bay horses pawed at the ground, chomping at their bits in annoyance. The coachman reined them in as he huddled beneath his greatcoat, not even bothering to spare her a glance. Suddenly, the coach door swung wide, revealing a gaping, dark cabin with nary a soul in sight.
She hitched up her skirts and eyed the driver once more. Rather than hop down from his perch to assist her, he continued to ignore her as if she weren’t even present. After several moments, which seemed an eternity as the rain pelted her fair skin, a deep, cultured voice called from within, “Hurry up now. We do not have all day.”
“Does the man have no manners?” Eleanor muttered as she attempted to pull herself up. Her dress was soaked, which made it more than double in weight and gave her added trouble as she clambered in, unassisted. She came precariously close to slipping and falling backward in the mud but caught herself in time.
Cursing under her breath, she hefted herself through the opening, finally taking her seat in the cozy conveyance. She arranged her skirts as best she could and then looked up to find the most handsome man she had ever seen staring back at her.
The pleasant warmth of the carriage blazed into an inferno as Eleanor found herself immobilized by the sight of him. Not one to feel overcome at the sight of a man, she was unprepared for the excitement of such an overwhelming attraction. He was blessed with dark brown hair and the most vivid green eyes she had ever seen set over an aquiline nose and full lips. He appeared quite tall and had very little excess weight on his lithe frame.
She mentally shook herself. Unless he was wealthy and titled, she had no interest in him. She did not recognize him and could only assume he was one of the local gentry she had somehow failed to meet.
She hid her physical attraction with false bravado and attempted to ignore his casual, assessing look as she said, “Tell your driver to turn around. He can stop in about half a mile.”
His eyes met hers again, and she was astounded at the cold indifference held there. No one ever looked at her that way. At least, no gentleman. She cocked her head to the side and looked down her nose at him, hoping to cow him with an air of superiority.
“No,” he said with a dismissive flick of his hand. “I can drop you off in town, and you should be thankful for that much.” The carriage rocked into motion, going in the opposite direction from which Eleanor directed, and she glared in response.
“Do you not know who I am?” Her voice was a bit shrill, not the dulcet tones she typically employed. As a lady of unparalleled beauty, Eleanor was unused to gentlemen contradicting her orders. No, all other gentlemen fawned over her in a humiliating fashion.
“Should I?” he asked, his gaze drifting over her with a look of derision as if finding it hard to believe she was someone important.
As his gaze perused her figure, Eleanor became uncomfortably aware of how she must look. When she was not soaked, she had light blonde hair that shone, blue eyes, and a much-sought-after figure. With her drenched hair hanging in a knot down her back, she must look like the most downtrodden of wenches. Even her hem was caked with mud.
She squared her shoulders and gazed back at him without betraying the slightest bit of emotion. Despite her sodden app
earance, she was still a noted beauty, and he needn’t act like such a cad. “Yes, you should. I am Miss Eleanor Ashford, and you, sir, are no gentleman. Otherwise, you would turn the carriage around as bidden.”
“Hmm.” He tapped his chin and tilted his head to the side as if lost in thought. “It would appear I have two options. First, I could ignore you, but that almost guarantees you will pester me until we reach Rotsdale. Or I choose the second option, which almost ensures your silence.” He continued to tap his chin, and she tried desperately to ignore his impertinent statement. His finger dropped, and he smirked at her. “Fine, Miss Ashford. I will have the coachman turn around. I do not believe I can endure your irritable overtures much longer.”
Eleanor gasped, but he ignored her as he rapped on the ceiling of the coach. He yelled over the din of the rain. “Take us to the Ashford estate.”
Every muscle in her body tensed at his words, and her hands trembled in anger. She was thoroughly annoyed with the man, but he did as she wished so she would not take him to task. The carriage slowed to a stop, began to back up, and then rocked in place as it halted. Eleanor waited for the motion to resume, but it never happened. After several moments, a knock sounded, and the coach door swung open.
The unknown gentleman rushed through the entryway before the coachman could say anything and, several minutes later, poked his head back in. “Would you prefer to wait here or walk with me to town?”
Eleanor jumped up and moved to the doorway. She had forgotten about her soaked skirts, and as she moved, they became entangled in her legs. She threw out her arms in an attempt to grab any sort of handhold that would avail itself to her. This action proved futile as she flew out of the coach into a very solid, very warm body. Her hands gripped his arms, holding on to him in a tight grip.
The feeling of falling was not something Eleanor experienced often, nor was a man’s body pressed against hers. He obviously was not prepared for her onslaught either, because her descent caused him to fall back with her, careening into the mud.
A surprised oomph issued from the man’s mouth as she landed on him. She was acutely aware of his body beneath hers as she lay stunned and unmoving on top of him. Warm and muscular, it was not the most comfortable landing spot, both physically and emotionally. Mere contact with him sent sparks flying through her, and she needed to get distance between herself and him. Now. As she picked her head up from his chest, she blushed and tried to sit up, only to find her skirts were trapped under his legs.
“Do you mind?” he asked with a grim frown.
His warm, large hands rested on the small of her back, which added a pleasant warmth to her predicament despite the chilling rain. Judging by the puddle underneath him and the rain falling from above, he was now as sodden as she. He would have appeared frightening in his anger, except a small green frog sat beside his head and blinked at her. The image was too much for Eleanor, who couldn’t help the tinkling laugh of delight from pouring forth.
Her laugh prompted his scowl to intensify, and she smiled down at him as she said, “Oh, do calm down. You are on top of my skirts.”
“What a likely excuse.”
Eleanor’s cheeks heated at the gentleman’s accusation. The little green frog chose that moment to turn and hop away, disappearing into the downpour in mere moments. If she could, she would hop away as well. After all, the man thought she used her skirts as an excuse to lie on top of him. She attempted to remove the fabric that was trapped by jerking it out from under him in one swift motion. Her progress was minuscule, as her prone position did not allow for much movement.
Trying to pull her skirts harder, she began to slide into the mud, only to have him catch her. As his hold on her tightened, she gasped with the realization of how strong and how completely at his mercy she was. She glared at him as he waited beneath her. He did not offer any sort of aid in her plight, aside from keeping her on top of him, and judging by the light in his eyes and smile on his lips, he just might be enjoying this.
Finally, he leaned forward, allowing her to pull her skirts free. She scrambled away and he stood. The warmth of his body had kept the cold at bay, but his absence allowed the sharp wind to hit her with a startling force, and she turned back to the carriage without sending him another glance.
“Do not enter that coach. We will walk to town.”
“And why can’t we ride?” She swept a hand across her face, attempting to wipe the rain away. Her actions proved futile, as the rain continued to beat down in a torrent.
“We cannot ride because the back wheels are mired in the mud.”
She shielded her eyes and inspected the back of the rig. Sure enough, half of the wheel had disappeared into mud. She turned back to face him and asked, “Why ever did your coachman back us into a ditch?” She searched the surrounding area for signs of the man but found none. This coachman was proving rather useless. He had failed to help her enter the carriage or remove herself from the unknown gentleman when she fell on him and had even forced them to get stuck. “Where is he anyway?”
“He is untethering the horses.” His voice lowered, and he said in a mocking tone, “As for your other question, he backed us up into a ditch because a certain high-handed female demanded he change direction in the rain.”
“Well, I never—”
He ignored her protestations and brought his hand up. “Really now, we should be going.”
Eleanor shook her head and wiped the rain from her face. She would not walk to town when she could wait in a warm coach. She ignored him and started to climb back into the vehicle with its enticing promise of warmth. Before she could enter, a pair of strong hands encircled her waist and effectively ignited her temper.
She whirled on the stranger. “What are you doing? You have no right to lay your hands on my person.” She paused in surprise when he appeared unfazed by her tirade. “My father will have your head if he finds out you treated me this way.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she spoke first as she averted her eyes from his. “I suppose it’s best if Father does not know I spent time with you unchaperoned, no matter the circumstances. I have no wish to marry landed gentry.” In fact, the lowest she would settle for was a baron. An earl would be ideal, but those were not so easy to come by.
A small smile played on his lips as he assessed her. If anything, this unknown gentleman was even more attractive wet. A raindrop even now worked its way down his lips, and flurries immediately overtook her stomach. It was unfair, really.
He ignored the rain as he regarded her with his alluring green eyes. “We are near to town and might as well walk the distance rather than remain here, alone.”
“In case you had not realized, it is raining. I do not wish to grow ill.”
A wicked smile encompassed his face as he leaned toward her. “I would hate to think how your father would respond if he knew we were unchaperoned. Why, he could demand we marry.”
She blanched. The notion of sitting alone with him in close confines for an extended period of time did not sound appealing, as his gaze alone did strange things to her stomach, and the man was right. Her father would be furious if he discovered she had been alone with any man, rain or no rain. There was one other option, though.
“Might I suggest I wait here while you and your man get help?”
“You may not.” He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “I will not leave a young lady out here alone.” He turned from her and went to the other side of the carriage before she could respond.
“Of course he would act chivalrous now.” She shivered as the wind picked up. He reemerged several moments later with the coachman and horses in tow.
“I suggest you come along now,” he said over his shoulder.
With an indignant little huff, Eleanor scurried to catch up to the man. How was it this gentleman could be so immune to her charms? Most men would bend over backward to please her. He was a bit of an enigma and did not look even remotely familiar to her. She s
neaked a glance at him and was once again struck by how attractive he was.
She shook herself as she caught up to him. Curiosity about him would do no good. He was not a prospect for her no matter how handsome he might be. In fact, no man was a prospect unless he held a seat in parliament, which a baronet or knight did not.
He scowled up at the almost black sky, and a shiver ran down her back as he asked, “Is there a house nearby? I worry we will not make it to town.”
The rain impeded their progress in a most noteworthy way. Every step she took was met with mud that seemed to propel her backward. She stopped to consider her surroundings. “I believe the vicar lives over that ridge.” She pointed eastward, although nothing could be seen from their vantage point but dark furious trees, rioting in the wind.
He nodded, and they resumed their walk. After a couple of silent minutes, the gentleman started to slide and almost fell into the mud. Eleanor could not help the laughter at the sight of him, flailing to keep his balance, but she managed to suppress her reaction when he sent her a dark glance. He clearly did not appreciate the humor in the situation as she did.
They topped the ridge to find a quaint house, obscured by the rain. The rain now resembled a waterfall more than a downpour, and the promise of shelter was a welcome sight. The vicar had a daughter around Eleanor’s age who would likely lend her a dry dress and make her a hot cup of tea. Renewed vigor coursed through her, and Eleanor trudged along with a bit more energy.
They reached the humble entryway, and the gentleman lifted the brass door knocker. He knocked several times, waiting with more patience between knocks than Eleanor could ever manage. On the fourth knock, he dropped his hand as the door creaked open.
“Who’s there?” The door swung wide, revealing Mrs. Platts, a middle-aged lady of large girth who was married to the vicar. “Oh, it’s you, Miss Ashford. Whatever are you doing in the rain?” She moved from the entryway, and Eleanor hurried in. Warmth greeted her, along with the enticing scent of fresh flowers.
They stood in a small, bright foyer. Ahead of them stretched a hallway with multiple doors on both sides and a stairwell at the end of the hall. A large wooden cross hung on the wall over beige damask wallpaper, which ran down the length of the hall. The only color in the room came from the steel-blue runner on the floor and the vase of tulips arranged on a table by the door.