It was pure pleasure to kick off her boots and flop into bed with a sigh. She stared at the ceiling, wondering what tonight had meant for Avery. Had it clarified the feelings in his heart the way it had for hers?
She rolled over onto her belly, bunching the pillow beneath her chin. When she was younger, she’d liked nothing better than getting lost in a book, a movie, a video game. When her life was more interesting, like when things with Kevin were heating up, she left her escapist life behind and enjoyed living in reality. But when things had fallen apart, she’d run to those comfortable old friends immediately, drowning herself in the distraction.
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twenty-first century with her? If not, she’d be back to burying herself in her apartment with nothing but Mario and Mr. Darcy for company.
Her dreams swirled with the worries she couldn’t leave behind even in unconsciousness.
i
Avery awoke with a sense of foreboding.
With a steadying breath, he rose to his feet and crossed the room. A small square of paper lay innocently by the crack at the bottom of the door. The plain, rough paper crinkled under his hands as he unfolded it. In the moon’s predawn glow, he read it.
Russell,
Your lady friend, or should I say Miss Ram, visited you quite late last night. Terrible things can happen to a young lady on the streets of London after dark.
The Swansdown is set. You know what to do.
Prachett
Avery gripped the note so tightly that the paper ripped.
There was no question of obeying Prachett now.
No matter what it cost him. He’d do anything to keep Leah safe.
Even lose his own soul.
i
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her, glumness hanging over her like Eeyore’s little black raincloud.
It had been almost two weeks since she’d seen Avery.
Two freaking weeks. During that time, the duke had been their almost constant companion, showing up at every function she and Lady Chesterfield attended.
He’d sat between her and Lady Chesterfield at the theatre, the two of them making The Taming of The Shrew much more about the societal tête– à– tête than it was about the performance. Leah despised people that talked during movies. Plays? Oh, her blood had bubbled like acid that night.
Too bad they hadn’t gotten her subtle hints. She couldn’t have been outright rude, or Lady Chesterfield would have either passed out or killed her, neither of which appealed to Leah.
Garden parties, balls, soirees— he was there for them all. It was probably a good thing, but Leah had a hard time viewing it that way. To hear Lady Chesterfield talk, the rest of the ton had had a much harder time swallowing the Leah-is- the-cousin- of-the- late-baronet story than His Grace had. The Duke of Granville’s attention had gone a long way in convincing the rest of society to accept Leah the way they had. Lady Chesterfield couldn’t be happier. She smiled, she laughed, she flirted with the duke. Leah was beginning to wonder why her patroness wouldn’t admit she was halfway in love with the duke herself. It was obvious to everyone except Lady Chesterfield.
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who was throwing this shindig, or even what the hell day it was. It was just another night that she’d be expected to dance with His Grace, converse with His Grace, simper at His Grace. She considered shoving a finger down her throat so she could puke in the bushes and go home. Play cards with Muriel or scrub a chamber pot or two. It’d be less of a pain in the ass than being here, she was pretty sure.
“My dear Leah, come now.” Lady Chesterfield gestured with the fan.
Leah trudged toward the door, her heavy stomps sounding more like she was wearing combat boots than fine kid slippers.
“Stand straight, my dear. Good heavens, are your stays not laced snugly?”
Reluctantly Leah stiffened her spine. “No, it’s fine. I promise. Sorry.” If they tightened this corset any more, she’d need to be re-inflated when she took it off. She sighed as deeply as she was able to when she handed her wrap to a waiting footman. There were many long hours between now and that blessed corset removal.