“The Duke?”
“No, your father.” She rolls her eyes. “Yes, the Duke! I’ve heard so many things about him. They say he uses sex as a coping mechanism ever since…” Her voice trails off. Anyone in Farcliff could fill in the blanks. Ever since his beloved brother overdosed. Ever since his parents died. Ever since he inherited the estate and stopped attending society events. Ever since Blythe pianos stopped being built.
I take another sip of champagne, keenly aware of how little I’ve eaten tonight. It’s going straight to my head. I glance across the room, my eyes immediately finding the Duke’s. A rush of heat spreads through my core, and I remember I’m not wearing any underwear.
As his eyes drift down my dress, I know he’s thinking the same. Replaying the past hour of our lives in his head, just as I am. Remembering what it felt like to have his lips against mine. His hands on my body. His cock buried inside me.
I clear my throat, turning to Rhoda. “He’s…interesting.” I try to keep my voice neutral.
How can I explain that the Duke is completely addictive? I’m consumed by the thought of him already. I need to know everything there is to know about him. I need to know why he retreated away from society. Why he chose to come back today. Why he took interest in me.
I need to know if he truly thinks I’m magnificent, or that’s just something he tells people. Was I just a coping mechanism during a very difficult evening?
Rhoda blows out a breath. “Interesting? You’re going to have to give me more than that. What did he say? Was he polite? Rude? Abrasive?”
“He was well-mannered,” I say, remembering the way he told me to beg for his cock. “Classy.” Especially when he fisted his hands in my hair and tugged hard.
Rhoda arches an eyebrow.
I relent, knowing I need to give her more details. “I don’t think the rumors have been kind to him. He’s spent the past few years away from this type of event, and I don’t think he particularly enjoys being here tonight.” I pause, chewing the inside of my lip. “I’d like to see him again.”
My friend’s eyes flash as a blush spreads over my cheeks and neck, and all the way down my chest. I duck my head, shaking it gently until I hear her squeal. She grabs my arm, leaning close. “He’s trouble, Ada. You know that, right?”
When I glance at her, Rhoda’s eyes are shining. I bite my lip and grin. “Trouble isn’t always bad, is it?”
We’re both giggling when I hear my mother clear her throat behind me. I turn to see her, my father, and Count Gregory standing there. I straighten up, letting my smile slip off my face.
I give them all a small curtsy, if only to buy time to compose myself. “Mother,” I nod.
“Count Gregory has been kind enough to invite us to his Christmas dinner party in two weeks’ time,” she says, giving me a loaded look. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
Dread creeps through my stomach as I swallow down the discomfort rising in my throat. More time with Count Gregory? More hours spent in his company? And I’m assuming Maggie will be there, too—I’ll have to watch her interact with him, knowing he gives me the creeps.
But I paint a polite smile on my lips and turn to face the Count. “That’s very kind of you,” I say. “I’m sure it will be a wonderful evening.”
“If you and your sister are in attendance, I have no doubt it will be.” He catches my hand and lays a kiss on my fingers.
My body screams, yelling at me to pull away and maybe slap him across the face for good measure. I push the instinct down and wait for him to drop my hand, flicking my eyes to the corner where the Duke of Blythe was standing before.
He’s watching us, a dark expression in his eyes.
Is it wrong that I like it? I like knowing he’s jealous and angry and protective. I like knowing he’s watching me, and that he doesn’t like Count Gregory, either. In a room full of people who hide their true intentions and opinions as a matter of principle, it’s refreshing to see someone who’s honest.
My mother says something that I don’t quite hear, and conversation starts up between us. My eyes flit to Rhoda, who arches a brow. She saw the look on the Duke of Blythe’s face.
Leaning into my ear, she whispers, “You are going to have to tell me everything.”
I shake my head, hiding a grin behind my hand. When I glance back across the room, the Duke is giving a low bow to Prince Damon, the King’s younger brother. Prince Damon has his arm slung around Princess Dahlia, whose pastel pink hair is twisted into a complicated braid. The two look completely at ease with each other, and my heart tugs.
Just like the King and Queen, Prince Damon and Dahlia found love where they shouldn’t have.
Will I ever have what they have? What the King and Queen have?
Gulping, I turn back to my parents, the Count, and Rhoda. The royal family can do what they want—including marry for love. The only one who hasn’t found love yet is Prince Gabriel, all the way out at Westhill Castle, hiding away from royal life. He’s a recluse like the Duke, with just as many dark rumors swirling around him and his past. Maybe the two of them would get along.
“We really should be going,” my mother says, giving me a loaded look. Did she see me leave and come back with the Duke?
Who am I kidding? Of course she did. The entire guest list knows by now. They probably know how long I was away from the main ballroom down to the second. I’m sure there are rumors swirling already.
As I give Rhoda a hug goodbye, promising to talk to her during the week, I can’t quite keep the smile from my face.
I don’t care about rumors. I don’t care about gossip. Tonight was incredible. I’ll cherish the memory of it forever. A small, forbidden fantasy I didn’t even know I had came true tonight.
And maybe I’ll get to see the Duke again. Live out another fantasy. Feel like a woman once more, before my inevitable betrothal to someone like Count Gregory.
Unless… I glance in the Duke’s direction, hoping that maybe we can have something more—but he’s gone. I shake my head, pushing the thought aside. I should just cherish tonight, not hope for things that won’t happen.
10
Ada
Kiera squeals when she hears us walk through the front door, flying down the hallway toward me. She throws her arms around my waist, squeezing tight. “You met him! What’s he like?”
“Very handsome,” I answer, feeling my mother’s hawk-eyed stare on my back. The drive home was pointedly quiet, and I know she’s waiting for the right moment to ask me exactly where I disappeared to with the Duke.
“I can’t believe you met him. And he’s smiling in the picture! I’ve never seen a picture of him smiling. Not since he was a kid, anyway.” Kiera stares at her phone screen, shaking her head. “You’re amazing.”
I smile, looking over her shoulder to stare at the photo I sent her earlier. My gut clenches, remembering exactly where we were when that picture was taken.
Following Kiera back to the living room, I find Maggie asleep on the sofa. Her moon boot is still propped up on a cushion, and even in her sleep she looks elegant and put-together.
She blinks her eyes open when we enter, smiling softly. “I heard you made quite the splash.” She grins, wiping her eyes.
“News travels fast,” I say, taking a seat near her injured leg. My dress crinkles around my legs, and I remember I’m not wearing underwear. I should change.
I pull out my phone, staring at the dark screen. No text from the Duke. I try to ignore the disappointment squeezing my heart.
It’s been, what, an hour? Why would he text me now? Why would he text me at all?
If Rhoda’s right, he uses sex to get over his demons. Maybe that’s all tonight was for him. A quick fuck to forget about the anniversary of the death of his entire family. Telling me he wanted to see me again was just good manners.
Right?
Or are my feelings true? There was something between us. Some sort of force that made our eyes meet across the room. An ener
gy that flowed through us when we danced. And after, when we were alone…
Well, that was special. I’ve never experienced anything like it.
Shaking the thought away, I lean against the sofa and listen to my little sister tell me about her friends’ reaction to the photo. My eyelids feel heavy, and a soft smile tugs at my lips. A big fire is blazing in the fireplace, making me feel warm and comfortable and happy.
My mother enters the room, already changed out of her gown and in a matching set of silk pajamas with a long robe tied loosely at the waist. Her updo has been unpinned and makeup removed, and she looks like my mother again. I’m reminded that the image of the noble Duchess of Belcourt is just that—an image. One we need to uphold by marrying the right men.
Mother looks at Kiera. “Bedtime.”
Kiera sighs, closing her laptop and rolling her eyes. “Soon I’ll be at college, and you won’t be there to tell me my bedtime.”
“Maybe it’s not a good idea to send you there when you’re only fifteen.” My mother gives her a pointed stare, tilting her head.
Kiera drops her chin to her chest and stands up, waving at Maggie and me before heading out the door.
My mother turns to us, tightening her robe around her waist. “Count Gregory has invited you both to his Christmas dinner in two weeks.”
Maggie sits up, wincing as she moves her broken ankle. I help her adjust the cushions, giving her an encouraging nod.
My mother levels us with a stare. “I expect you both to act like the ladies you are. No sneaking off with Dukes.” Her eyes shift to me.
My cheeks burn hotter than they have in years. I stare at the carpet.
She looks at Maggie. “The Count seemed quite pleased with Ada, so we can assume the betrothal is still in the cards, despite your sister’s little disappearing act. His Christmas party will be crucial in making sure this happens.”
“I understand.” Maggie folds her hands in her lap, looking every bit a lady, even with a broken ankle.
“This is important, girls,” my mother says. “Kiera deserves the best, and we want to be able to send her to a good university. Count Gregory has contacts at all the top schools. He’s made donations to our number one pick for the past thirty years, and the dean of Farcliff University might be at his dinner party, too. You understand how important this is?”
Maggie nods again, her eyes downcast. Her long, thick lashes fan over her cheeks, and my heart squeezes painfully. She’s sacrificing so much for Kiera. For all of us. By marrying Count Gregory, she’s choosing our family’s reputation over her own future. Kiera’s education over the chance at a loving marriage.
Would I be able to do the same? Can I stand the thought of my sister giving up her whole future for us?
I put my hand over her good leg, squeezing gently.
She looks at me, nodding, then turns to Mother. “We won’t let you down.”
“Good.” My mother gives us a curt nod, then walks over to the sofa and places a kiss on each of our heads. I feel like a little girl again, and not a celebrated concert pianist with a bachelor’s degree.
Sadness clings to my spirit when I look at my sister, who looks resigned and calm and ready to face the weight of her obligations. She’s braver than I am.
Glancing at my phone, all I see is a dark screen. If things between the Duke of Blythe and me were ever to work out, would Maggie have to go through with this marriage? Could I save her from a lifetime of duty?
I can’t think like that. I had one night with the Duke. Heath. Even now, after a couple of hours, it feels wrong to call him by his first name—even in my head. We aren’t that familiar with each other. We had a fun, memorable Christmas ball at the palace. That’s all.
Right?
I go to bed and dream of him.
11
Heath
I lie awake all night thinking of Ada. I spend the entire next day staring at my phone, wondering if I should send her a message.
I want to. I’m dying to. My fingers itch to find her number and tell her I can’t get her out of my head.
But I hold back. I heard Count Gregory invited Ada to his Christmas party, and I know what that means. He’s making a move. One Belcourt daughter isn’t enough—he wants to have his pick.
Typical Gregory. I’d wring the man’s neck if I could do it without going to jail.
But murder won’t do. I don’t want to kill him. I want to ruin his reputation. Expose him for the garbage he is and show his precious society that he’s scum. Clear my brother’s name. Avenge my parents’ death.
My stomach clenches. I hate that man. He took everything from me, and now he’s taking Ada, too.
I never thought I’d meet a woman who makes the world seem brighter. I never thought I’d have a night like last night. One that makes me feel full and sated, instead of empty and sad.
She’s a drug. I’m hooked.
But I can’t text her—not while her life is intertwined with the Count’s. Not before I bring down my accusations on him.
I just need a bit more time.
Instead of calling Ada, I call my lawyer and let him talk some sense into me. I review all the communications I’ve had with the King and prepare to meet with him and tell him what I’ve found out about Count Gregory.
I do my best to distract myself with anything and everything that isn’t Ada.
It doesn’t help.
As it turns out, I do fuck my fist to the thought of her. Again, and again, and again.
12
Ada
The days drag on. Hour by hour. Minute by minute. I check my phone a thousand times an hour, my heart trilling every time I have a new notification. On Wednesday, I meet Rhoda for coffee, and she catches me glancing at the blank screen.
“Loverboy Blythe?” she asks, arching an eyebrow.
I blush. I’m doing a lot of that lately.
Rhoda leans back in her chair, her long, fine manicured nails drumming on the surface of the table. The big rock on her finger glitters at me, winking in the light of the café, reminding me of the world we really live in.
One where marriages are matches, and love is nothing but a fantasy.
“You like him,” she announces, almost accusing me.
I shake my head. “I don’t even know him.”
“What exactly happened in that piano room?”
“I played Chopin.”
“And then he played Chopin all over your body?”
I swear my cheeks are just permanently red now. I shake my head. “That doesn’t even make sense, Rhoda.”
“Something happened. You can’t hide it from me.” She grins.
“We talked.” I don’t know why I don’t want to tell her every sordid detail. We used to share all kinds of stories. When we were in college, we’d come back from a night out and tell each other a play-by-play of everything that happened.
But this feels different. What happened between the Duke and me feels too special to share. It would ruin it somehow.
“You exchanged numbers?” Rhoda sips her coffee, staring at me with her sharp blue eyes.
I nod.
“He hasn’t contacted you?”
“It’s been four days,” I say, sounding whinier than I mean to.
“So text him.” She shrugs, nodding to my phone.
I close my eyes, shaking my head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“What if I misread the situation? What if he just gave me his number to be polite?”
I want to see you again. I can still hear his voice in my head. You are magnificent. That didn’t sound like mere politeness.
“What’s the worst that can happen? He stays on his estate ninety-nine percent of the time, anyway. It’s not like you’ll run into him at a restaurant or anything. Just send him a message.”
Biting my lip, I pick up my phone. I glance at my friend, who has laughter dancing in her eyes. “What do I say?”
She tilts her head, running her f
ingers along the base of her coffee cup. She motions for my phone, and I clutch it to my chest.
“Don’t you dare send anything without letting me see it first.”
“I would never.” She grins.
Reluctantly, I hand her my phone. Her fingers fly over the screen for a moment, and then she hands it back to me. “There.”
Ada: Hey!
I lift my eyes to Rhoda’s, frowning. “‘Hey?’ That’s it?”
“Keep it simple,” she answers, shrugging. “Men are uncomplicated creatures.”
I chew my lip, staring at the screen. I can’t send ‘Hey!’—I’m not some guy on Tinder with the intellect of a sea slug. I erase it, type another message, and hit send before I can change my mind.
Ada: Have you recovered from the trauma of a public appearance?
I turn my phone around and show Rhoda, who nods appreciatively. “Cheeky, funny, and a little flirty. You’re a natural.”
“I don’t know how to flirt.”
“Oh, please.” She laughs.
My phone buzzes, and Heath’s name flashes on the screen. My eyes widen. “It’s him.”
“Already?” Rhoda makes a grabby-hands gesture at me, nodding at my phone. “Read it or let me see. Don’t just sit there! I haven’t had this much fun since college.” She laughs, glancing at the ring on her finger. Sadness flashes across her face and disappears again, almost too fast for me to notice.
Just like Maggie, she’s chained to her duty.
I swipe my phone open and read the message.
Heath: Barely. Thinking of you sitting at the piano has helped.
My hands tremble when I show Rhoda, who squeals when she reads it. She purses her lips, shaking her head. “Ada Charlotte Belcourt, you’d better tell me exactly what happened in that piano room right now, or else I’m not sure we can be friends any longer.”
I laugh, reading the Duke’s message again. I lift a shoulder in a shrug. “We may have kissed.”
Yours for Christmas: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (Royally Unexpected) Page 6