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cc48842
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What a dichotomy she was! She seemed timid until he spoke derisively of her title, and then she spoke in an icy ferocity. A few minutes later, with a few words artfully couched to sound like a threat, he once again reduced her to diffidence. If he was not careful, this woman would fascinate him.
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timid
eleanor-de-lacy
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Christina Dodd |
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1024e05
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The imposter's long, sturdy traveling cloak covered plain, dark, modest traveling clothes. Like the duchess, she was tall and well-rounded, and she spoke with the duchess's aristocratic accent. Also like the duchess, she wore her black hair smoothed back from her face. Yet for the discerning eye, the differences were obvious. The imposter had a sweeter, rounder face, dominated by large blue eyes striking in their serenity. Her voice was husky, warm, rich. Her hands rested calmly at her waist, and she moved with serene grace, not at all with the brisk certainty of the duchess. She was slow to smile, slow to frown, and never laughed with glorious freedom. Indeed, she seemed to weigh each emotion before allowing it egress, as if sometime in the past every drop of impulsiveness had been choked from her. It wasn't that she was morose, but she was observant, composed, and far too quiet.
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duchess
serene
eleanor-de-lacy
sweet
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Christina Dodd |
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31ad2e8
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After all, what was the point of showing trepidation? It would merely be another proof that, although Eleanor had traveled across war-torn Europe as the duchess's companion, she hadn't acquired the verve and confidence that characterized Madeline's every move. This wasn't from lack of trials; the two women had faced trials aplenty. It was because- Eleanor sighed as she allowed the butler to take her cloak- Eleanor was born timid. She never remembered a time when her father's shouting hadn't paralyzed her with fright, or when her stepmother's narrow-eyed glare hadn't had the power to turn her into a bowl of quivering blancmange. Which is why Eleanor cultivated a serene facade- she might be a coward, but she saw no reason to announce the fact.
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serene
timid
eleanor-de-lacy
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Christina Dodd |
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3c019a3
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She heard nothing but experienced a sensation that prickled along her spine like a warm touch caressing her skin. Slowly, with the care of prey beneath a predator's survey, she turned her head- and met the gaze of the elegant gentleman lounging at the door. In her travels, she had seen many a striking and charming man, but none had been as handsome as this- and all had been more charming. This man was a statue in stark black and white, hewn from rugged granite and adolescent dreams. His face wasn't really handsome; his nose was thin and crooked, his eyes heavy lidded, his cheekbones broad, stark and hollowed. But he wielded a quality of power, of toughness, that made Eleanor want to huddle into a shivering, cowardly little ball. Then he smiled, and she caught her breath in awe. His mouth... his glorious, sensual mouth. His lips were wide, too wide, and broad, too broad. His teeth were white, clean, strong as a wolf's. He looked like a man seldom amused by life, but he was amused by her, and she realized in a rush of mortification that she remained standing on the stool, reading one of his books and lost to the grave realities of her situation. The reality that stated she was an imposter, sent to mollify this man until the real duchess could arrive. Mollify? Him? Not likely. Nothing would mollify him. Nothing except... well, whatever it was he wanted. And she wasn't fool enough to think she knew what that was. The immediate reality was that she would somehow have to step down onto the floor and of necessity expose her ankles to his gaze. It wasn't as if he wouldn't look. He was looking now, observing her figure with an appreciation all the more impressive for its subtlety. His gaze flicked along her spine, along her backside, and down her legs with such concentration that she formed the impression he knew very well what she looked like clad only in her chemise- and that was an unnerving sensation.
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eleanor-de-lacy
remington-knight
handsome
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Christina Dodd |
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3bbfb4e
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"Furthermore, she poured tea on a regular basis. Madeline didn't care to, while Eleanor found comfort in the scent, the warmth, the routine. But right now, with all of Mr. Knight's attention focused on her, the task became an ordeal. The pot seemed to weigh too much. The cup rattled in the saucer as she picked it up. She tilted the pot, aimed the spout toward the cup- And in that same, smiling, deceptively pleasant voice, Mr. Knight said, "I like having a duchess wait on me." Both of Eleanor's hands shook. The hot liquid splashed on her fingers. She dropped the cup. As she reached for it, it shattered against the table. A shard jabbed into her palm. She yanked her hand back and closed her fingers. In a rush, he came and knelt beside her. "Are you hurt? Did you burn yourself?" "No, no, I'm fine." She wasn't fine. She was embarrassed. She cultivated the graceful moves of a lady for a reason. She hated making a spectacle of herself- and now her nerves had betrayed her. "Please, Mr. Knight, stand up." For all the notice he took of her, she might not have spoken. Turning her hand to the light, he at once detected the slight cut beneath her little finger, oozing a sullen drop of scarlet blood. "You've cut yourself." "Only a little." She tried to tug her hand back. "I was clumsy. I broke your beautiful cup." "To hell with the cup." He pressed his finger lightly on the cut. She winced. "You're lucky. There's nothing in there." Lifting her hand to his mouth, he sucked the small wound. Shocked, she stared at him. His head bent over her hand, his chiseled features were intent, serious. His mouth was warm, wet, and the suction he used made her feel... odd. More animal than human, pain and intimacy mixing... never, ever had a man's mouth touched her on any part, in any way."
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eleanor-de-lacy
remington-knight
intimate
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Christina Dodd |
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8a629f6
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"What in Hades were you doing, lady? I almost hit you." Remington rose to confront him, but before he could say a word, Madeline came up like an infuriated wasp. "What was I doing? What were you doing? You almost hit this dog." Her cheeks and the tip of her nose glowed scarlet with fury. Her eyes sparked with brilliant blue. She had a smudge on one cheek and her hat was askew, but that didn't matter, for all the passion she had revealed in the morning's kiss she put into the defense of a mutt she had never before seen. Surly with guilt, the youth said, "It was just a flea-ridden stray." Then her loveliness registered. He jerked to attention, back straight, shoulders back. He stared with avid fascination into her face. "I believe we may have met, although I can't quite remember-" She rampaged on, "Is that the way you were taught? To run over defenseless animals?" Stepping back, Remington folded his arms. This youth didn't stand a chance. Her eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute. I recognize you. You're Lord Mauger!" "Yes, I... I am. Viscount Mauger, humbly at your service." Whipping his hat from his head, the youth bowed, eager to make a belated good impression on the beauty before him. "And you are...?" She wasn't impressed or interested. "I know your mother, and she would box your ears for this." Dull red rose in Mauger's cheeks. "You won't tell her." "Not if you promise to be more careful in the future. I won't be around to rescue the next dog, and I remember what a fine lad you were. You love animals, and you'd feel guilty if you killed one." "You're... you're right." Mauger's pleading eyes looked much like the dog's. "I just bought the chestnut, and came into town, and I wanted to show him off, but that's no excuse..." As Mauger dug his toe into the dirt, Remington realized he was observing a master at work. She had taken the young man from fury, to infatuation, to guilt in one smooth journey, and Mauger adored her for it."
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disarming
eleanor-de-lacy
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Christina Dodd |
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b4ebf99
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"It's that when the best hostesses pluck someone to be their new original, they can sometimes drop him as swiftly." "I hold in my palm a guarantee they will not." Lifting her hand to his again, he pressed his lips to the back of her fingers. This was awful! Awful that he flirted with her. Awful that she relished his attentions. "I wish you wouldn't... court me. It makes me uncomfortable." Taking no notice of her appeal, he remained on his knees before her. In a voice both low and curious, he said, "You're not what I expected." "No," she whispered. "I suppose not." Time seemed to slow and stretch. He observed her with intensity, as if she were a songbird he had trapped and would cage forever."
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eleanor-de-lacy
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Christina Dodd |
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00c5046
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He did not need to be distracted by a woman. A gorgeous woman, yes, but just a woman. He didn't understand her. That was the problem. She was beautiful but unaware of her beauty. She was rich but not grasping. She was timid, yet she rode fearlessly, and for a scroungy dog she roared like a lion. Because of her, he'd had his best boots nipped by a mutt's sharp teeth. Because of her, he'd ordered all flower arrangements changed from red to yellow roses.
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eleanor-de-lacy
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Christina Dodd |
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5cf998d
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"But I fear my senses can't be trusted in this new land." Eleanor sneaked a glance at his harsh and handsome features. No matter how much she wanted to dislike his presumption and his arrogance, she found herself drawn to him. She would have noticed him if he'd been courting Madeline, and quivered over the most careless glance. But with all his attention focused on her in the belief she was Madeline, her mind was blank. She couldn't taste her food. She could only see and smell and crave to taste Mr. Knight. "I'm sure your senses are fine," Eleanor said. Both Mr. Knight and Lady Gertrude turned to look at her. Eleanor stared down at her plate, where the cold, dressed crab waved its claws at her, and she thought that it, too, gawked at her from its beady little peppercorn eyes and wondered at her incredible triteness. Then she thought about what she'd said, and she slumped in her seat. She had commented on his senses? In a deep, controlled voice, which, she feared, masked his amusement, he said, "I trust your bedchamber is to your liking." He wasn't supposed to be talking about her bedchamber. He was her... Madeline's... betrothed! Those who weren't married didn't mention bedchambers or beds or anything of a personal nature. Yet he was her host. It was proper he should ask. "Yes. It's lovely. It..." Eleanor realized she was being conciliatory when she should be taking a stand. As Madeline had said, Straightening up, Eleanor stared forbiddingly at Mr. Knight. "It's in the wrong house, however. I should be in my father's home in Chesterfield Street." He stared back at her, waiting... waiting. The silence stretched out, long and dreadful. As he must have known she would, she began to crumple. "That is, I liked the colors. The chimney draws well. It's clean. It's... it's very clean. I do like it." Eleanor had warned Madeline that she was unable to talk to men. Eleanor had warned Madeline she was timid and easily cowed." --
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timid
eleanor-de-lacy
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Christina Dodd |
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3d13ce5
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"In a deep voice, he called her name. "Madeline." Still she ignored him. Taking her hand, he lifted it to his lips and, at the last minute, he turned it and kissed her wrist. That got her attention. She looked at him, her eyes as wide and startled as those of a doe who had never seen a human before. All around them, the tittle-tattle of gossip grew louder. "Mr. Knight!" Lady Gertrude used her most disapproving tone. didn't care whether she was overheard. "You will not do such a thing again. That is quite improper." "Until we are wed," he answered. He didn't care, either. "Ever," Lady Gertrude said with crushing certainty. Then she amended, "In public." Madeline said nothing but ducked her head and blushed, and he would have sworn he saw the glitter of tears on her lashes. For a moment, just a moment, he felt guilty. Damn her. Most women of his experience used weeping like a weapon, to get their own way. His duchess seemed embarrassed by her tears and wanted no one to see. Not him. Not anyone else in the crowd."
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eleanor-de-lacy
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Christina Dodd |
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7cc76d6
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"The consequence of the duchess of Magnus is so great, even arriving at a ball on your arm, Mr. Knight, cannot damage it." She smiled as she made the claim, as if she were amused by her own temerity. Under the influence of that merriment, her skin glowed, her eyes lit up, and her delightful dimples quivered in her cheeks. With a start, he thought, . He had expected to be challenged by this woman, not captivated. She surprised him, and surprise made him vaguely uneasy. Yet she was only a woman, and a woman whose father cared so little for her that he was willing to gamble her life away. Remington needed to remember that. He had the matter well in hand. Touching his white gloved finger under her chin, he lifted her face to his. "You smile too seldom. I wonder why."
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eleanor-and-rem
eleanor-de-lacy
surprised
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Christina Dodd |
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dc85158
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"I'm Lady Codell-Fitch, and like so many of us, I wish to offer congratulations on your betrothal." "Yes, congratulations." "Congratulations!" "Amazing betrothal!" The felicitations were insincere and accompanied by many an ogling stare, but Eleanor pretended, as Madeline would, to be pleased. Taking Mr. Knight's arm, she pressed it. "He is quite handsome." She found herself daring to defy them all with an up-tilted chin. "I wish you all could be so lucky." The lushly garbed and overly perfumed people were obviously taken aback. They must have expected her to align herself with them, the English nobility, and with a wink and a sigh show how very much she hated this match. But she didn't even have to wonder how Madeline would react to this situation, for in this instance the two cousins thought as one. Neither of them would allow Mr. Knight to suffer the slights of society. They might not wish for this marriage, but the de Lacy pride wouldn't allow them to let anyone else know. Close by her ear, Mr. Knight said quietly, "A pretty pretense, yet lest you imagine I'm impressed, let me assure you I remember this morning when you tried to escape. Tonight you defied me in the matter of your hair and your clothing, and lied to me to get your way. I take your words with a grain of salt." He chuckled deeply."
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eleanor-de-lacy
remington-knight
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Christina Dodd |
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0785b8a
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But perhaps, tonight, Eleanor should do as Madeline would do- and live for the moment. Tonight, she would abandon her fears and behave as any young lady would who danced her first dance at her first ball with the most handsome man in the room. Catching a glimpse of the dancers in one of the mirrors, she admired one young lady who moved with grace, who dressed with flare and whose hair looked dashing and sophisticated. As Eleanor watched, the lady imitated Eleanor's movements. She wore Eleanor's clothing. And Eleanor realized... the dashing female was herself. was the one who danced like a dream. Her haircut had transformed her face. She appeared younger, joyful, strikingly modish. She looked less like Madeline and more like... like Eleanor might have looked if her stepmother had never made her appearance in Eleanor's life. Eleanor laughed at herself. Foolish to think a simple cut could change her, but spying herself unaware made her realize that looks were deceiving. No matter how frightened she felt inside, no one could see past the fashionable facade. No one except Mr. Knight. He took her hand for the promenade and looked into her eyes. He had a way of dancing that was almost like... making love. With him, she felt like the finest dancer in the world. They moved together, and when the music ended, she couldn't restrain her smile. She was happy. Tonight, for this moment, she was happy.
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happiness
live-in-the-moment
eleanor-de-lacy
remington-knight
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Christina Dodd |