Page 7 of The Odyssean Duke

Evelina ducked her head, her heart thundering against her ribs. What would she do if her own footman caught her? There was no acceptable reason for a lady like her to be in a tavern, and she could not trust that footman to keep her secret. No?—

She had done enough for a day. It was time for Evelina to return to her townhouse.

Evelina abandoned her ale and, keeping her head low, hurried to the door. Her eyes lighted on the waiting hackney. She nearly laughed with relief. At least, her escape was close at hand!

A woman’s moan cut through the air, and Evelina froze. Was someone injured? She turned her head, all her muscles tense. The sight that greeted her eyes was not of a woman being hurt. Evelina gasped and stumbled back, her eyes wide. Even in the dark, she could discern the familiar scarlet gown in the alley beside the tavern. The man’s hands grasped her waist as he braced her against the wall. Her slender legs wrapped around his waist.

Evelina watched, transfixed. As the man thrust into the woman, she snapped her hips forward to meet him. She tossed her head back, moans tearing from her throat. The man grunted, his face red with the exertion of his labors. A lump lodged itself in Evelina’s throat. This was a congress?

A gasp tore from her throat, and she stumbled back, torn between horror and fascination. Without warning, a strong arm wrapped about her waist. Evelina instinctively shrieked in surprise, but a hand covered her mouth and muffled the sound. She stilled, her senses screaming. What had happened?

She was caught. Her face burned with mortification.

A dark, masculine chuckle came from behind her. “A curious little mouse, aren’t you?”

Evelina thought distantly that she ought to be offended, angry even, at being seized and silenced like she was. At the pet name—little mouse—as if she was some common woman on the street and not a dowager countess. All she could think about, though, was the roaring in her ears and the hammering of her heart against her ribs.

And that infernal heat growing between her legs.

The hand covering her mouth slowly lowered, but the arm remained wrapped around her waist. Evelina swallowed hard. It was a tall and well-built man who held her. She could discern that through the haze in her thoughts. His broad chest was pressed against her back.

“Miss?”

What was that tone? Evelina would have thoughtconfused, but this man did not hold her like he wasconfused. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to force her thoughts into a rational order.

Evelina leaned back against the man, her eyes still fixed on the woman in scarlet. She appeared so unrestrained in her pleasures, so jubilant even before this disreputable man. Was Evelina prepared to bethat? Was she prepared to convince this man to—to father a child with her? Her resolve wavered, as she imagined confronting a man, any man, and asking him to engage in an amorous congress with her.

The arm dropped, and Evelina whirled around. It was the stranger from the tavern, the one who had met her gaze for just a moment. The encounter between the woman in scarlet and her lover loomed large in Evelina’s mind. It was true that her stranger was not leering at her like that other man, and admittedly, he had not asked for her price. But he had touched her. He had called herMiss, so he knew she was a woman.

Was it possible that this man desired her? Did he desire herenough?

Evelina forced down the lump that rose in her throat and pulled awkwardly at the borrowed neckerchief. “Is this meant to be an invitation?”

He furrowed his brow and studied her for a long moment. Evelina shivered and lowered her hands, tucking them into the pockets of her coat. When she sneaked away from the townhouse, Evelina had convinced herself that she looked unremarkable. She was supposed to be the sort of man who no one would look twice at, but this manwaslooking at her. He knew that she was a woman, too. So what did he see?

“What do you mean by invitation?” he asked, sounding as though he was weighing the words carefully.

Evelina would have found it impossible for her face to grow any hotter, but somehow it did. Hopefully, the darkness of night would conceal the unsightly redness that swept over her cheeks. “Like—like what they are doing,” Evelina said, stumbling over her words. “The—the man and woman in the alley.”

The man’s lips twitched in amusement. “Should you be accepting invitations when you cannot evensaywhat that couple is doing?”

Indignation flared inside her. “I am trying to show appropriate tact,” she said. “That is all.”

“I see. And what is a polite lady like you doing in a place like this and speaking about such an inappropriate topic?” he asked. “You do not belong here.”

Evelina wrinkled her nose and forced down the instinctive surge of ladylike disapproval. Her eyes snapped over his clothing once more. “You do not belong here either, my lord.”

“Your Grace,” he drawled.

Evelina inhaled sharply, searching his face with renewed curiosity. This man had no reason to lie, but he did not have the bearing she would expect of a duke. “And why are you in a disreputable haunt like this?” Evelina asked.

She was vaguely aware that the moan behind her had ceased.

The man—His Grace, she supposed—crossed his arms. “I might ask the same of you, Madam.”

“My lady,” she corrected primly.

A heartbeat passed, and Evelina wondered if she had made an error in telling him who she really was. Maybe it would have been better to lie about her identity.