Astronomy.
Perhaps more, if he were to guess.
And her worrying that she had been warned not to speak about such things. Had his uncle done that? Had she even met his uncle?
“You are Lady Morland’s stepdaughter,” he said, thinking aloud to himself before he properly focused on her. “Yes. That is right. I was speaking with her earlier at the?—”
“At the Morrows’ ball. Yes, they attended tonight, and I am fearful of them arriving home before I do, Your Grace, so I really must?—”
“They will not be leaving yet,” he assured her. “I am certain Lady Morland has a self-assigned challenge to shove her daughters inthe face of every man present tonight, and there were many, so do not worry about returning home just yet.”
“I—I …” she whispered, trailing off, as she pressed a hand to her mouth. “Please do not say a thing to her about this, Your Grace.Please.Those children mean a great deal to me, and the teaching itself—I cannot lose it, and she will be furious. Please, Your Grace, do not tell her. I will do anything,anything, to keep doing this.”
Lucien stood up, slowly stalking around the desk. Immediately, Lady Elinor did the same, and he noticed just how simple her dress was, unlike the garments her stepsisters had flaunted. He rather preferred the authenticity of her attire, strangely enough.
He stepped closer to her, until they were inches apart. He smirked down at her, enjoying how she blushed and averted her gaze before lifting it back to him.
“It is quite scandalous of you to feign an illness so you can sneak out to such an unsavory part of London, Lady Elinor.”
There was a slight crease to her brows, and he heard her quietly repeating,feign an illness?
Lucien only moved closer so he could see the golden specks in her blue eyes. He was aware of her chest heaving with pants again, and he wished to move even closer so he might feel that breathing pattern press against his body.
She swallowed, and there went her hand to nudge her spectacles up again.
Lucien hummed, and when she went to do it again, he did it for her. A hard exhale left Lady Elinor, and he chuckled, glancing down at the lip she caught between her teeth for a moment.
He kept her waiting for another few moments before nodding.
“I will keep your secret,” he told her. “You may continue teaching the children.”
Lady Elinor sighed in relief, leaning back against the edge of the desk. Lucien braced a hand on it, not quite fencing her in, but remaining close enough to hear her breath catch again.
“On one condition,” he added. “You must be mine—for the rest of the Season.”
Chapter Four
“What?”
Elinor jolted so hard she almost knocked over a paperweight on the desk behind her.
You must be mine.
Slowly, she blinked at the handsome man that loomed above her, his smile dancing on the edge of dangerous. Confusion swirled through her mind, for why would he ask of this? Why would he want her, when nobody ever had in those ballrooms? She was nothing to him, and?—
Heavens,in what way did he even mean?
Her heart hammering, she found her voice after an old, broken clock ticked away, as if reminding her of how long she had been out. “What—what do you mean, Your Grace? I do not understand what you would want me for.”
The Duke of Fairmont made a low, thoughtful noise in his throat, before he pulled away and strode up and down the dirty, worn carpet in front of her. His hands were tucked into his pockets, and he oozed casual confidence that Elinor knew Gilbert would be deeply envious of.
“I have plans for the workhouse,” the duke began, surprising Elinor by not answering her directly. He glanced at her before continuing his thoughtful, slow gait across the room’s width. “Admittedly, I let it slip my attention as I began taking over the duchy and patching up the many,manyholes my uncle left in it.”
There was a growl of bitterness as he said that, but he just cleared his throat and continued. Elinor didn’t dare respond, not yet.
“But now that I have seen the condition of it …” He shook his head. “I cannot abide it. There was a report left for me in my uncle’s will regarding this. He stated, in a rather unkind way, that the children are not the best with change.”
“Innocently so,” Elinor whispered, rising to defend them all. “Change can be scary for anyone, let alone for children whose only stability is a workhouse where they are beaten.”