Lady Ines Scandalous Hobby-Chapter 137 - Hundred And Thirty Seven

"Priscilla," Carcel interrupted her mid-sentence.

Priscilla blinked, surprised. "Yes, Carcel?"

She used his first name. He hated it.

"Forgive me," Carcel said, stepping back. He didn’t offer an excuse. He didn’t offer a lie. He just withdrew his presence. "I must attend to something."

" But I haven’t told you the best part!" Priscilla protested, reaching for his arm again.

This time, Carcel moved. He stepped out of her reach with a fluidity that left her grasping at empty air.

"Another time, perhaps," Carcel said coldly.

He turned his back on her. He didn’t care if it was rude. He scanned the crowd frantically. The sea of pastel dresses blurred together. Where was the green silk? Where was his Ines?

He saw Amelia standing near the terrace doors. She was alone, looking toward the side exit.

Carcel moved. He cut through the dancers, ignoring the greetings of several lords. He reached Amelia in seconds.

"Where is Ines?" Carcel demanded. He didn’t bother with a greeting.

Amelia looked at him. Her face was stern. She pointed a finger at his chest.

"You are a fool, Carcel," Amelia said sharply. "Flirting with that viper while your fiancée looks ready to faint."

"I was not flirting," Carcel growled. "Where is Ines?"

"She felt unwell," Amelia said, lowering her hand. "I sent her to the room upstairs. With a maid."

Carcel didn’t wait to hear the rest.

"Thank you," he said. You

He turned and headed for the side door Amelia had indicated. He walked fast, his long legs eating up the distance. He burst into the hallway, leaving the music and the noise behind.

The corridor was empty. He looked up the stairs.

He saw the hem of a green dress disappearing around the landing of the second floor. She was walking like she was hurt.

Carcel cursed under his breath. He took the stairs two at a time, abandoning his ducal dignity. He needed to catch her. He needed to explain. He couldn’t let her sit in a room alone thinking he had betrayed her, even for a second.

He reached the second floor. The hallway was long and lined with closed doors. At the far end, he saw a maid opening a door. Ines was standing there, her back to him, her head bowed.

"Ines!" Carcel called out. His voice echoed in the quiet hall.

Ines froze. She didn’t turn around. She stepped into the room quickly, as if trying to escape him.

Carcel broke into a jog. The maid, Edwina, looked up, startled to see a Duke running down the hallway.

"Your Grace?" Edwina squeaked, curtsying awkwardly while holding the door handle.

Carcel reached the door. He placed his hand on the wood, holding it open. He was breathing a little harder than usual, not from the run, but from the adrenaline.

"You may go," Carcel said to the maid. His voice was firm.

Edwina looked at Ines, who was standing in the middle of the room, facing the window. Then she looked at the Duke, who looked like a man possessed.

"But... the Countess said to stay..." Edwina stammered.

"I will stay with her," Carcel said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold coin. He pressed it into the maid’s hand without looking at it. "Go downstairs. Guard the bottom of the stairs. Tell no one we are here. Especially not the lady in the purple dress."

The maid’s eyes widened at the coin. She nodded vigorously.

"Yes, Your Grace. Right away."

Edwina hurried away, her footsteps fading down the hall.

Carcel stepped into the room and closed the door. He turned the key in the lock.

The room was small and intimate, lit only by the moonlight streaming through the window and a single lamp.

Ines stood with her back to him. Her shoulders were shaking.

"Ines," Carcel said softly.

"Go back to her," Ines said. Her voice was thick with a cracking sound she was trying to suppress. "You shouldn’t be rude. Besides, you haven’t finished the act."

Carcel felt his heart crack. He walked across the room slowly, approaching her like one would approach a frightened bird.

"I don’t care about the act anymore," Carcel said. "I only care about you."

"It didn’t look that way," Ines whispered. She turned around then. Her face was pale. "You let her touch you, Carcel. You smiled at her. Everyone saw."

"That was the point," Carcel said, stopping just inches from her. He kept his hands at his sides, wanting to reach for her but waiting for permission. "The plan... the diary says she is obsessed. If I was rude to her, if I pushed her away, people would say she is a nuisance. But if I am polite? If I let her talk? Then when the diary comes out, they will say she mistook my kindness for love. They will say she is delusional."

He took a step closer.

" Every second she touched my arm, I wanted to retch. I was counting the seconds until I could come back to you."

Ines looked at him. She searched his face, looking for emotions. She saw the desperation in his eyes. She saw the sweat on his brow from running up the stairs.

"It hurt to watch," Ines admitted, her voice breaking. "I know it is a game. I know. But it hurt."

Carcel let out a ragged sigh. He reached out and pulled her into his arms. He didn’t ask this time. He just needed her.

"I know," he murmured into her hair, holding her tight against his chest. "I am sorry. I am so sorry. I hate this game. I hate that I have to hurt you to save you."

Ines rested her forehead against his shoulder. The scent of him—clean soap, starch, and faint sandalwood—washed away the smell of Priscilla’s lavender perfume. She felt his heart hammering against his ribs, fast and hard.

"Is she still down there?" Ines asked, her voice muffled against his coat.

"Yes," Carcel said. "She is probably looking for me right now."

"Good," Ines said. She pulled back slightly, looking up at him. The fire was returning to her eyes. The sadness was being replaced by jealousy. "Let her look. Let her wonder where you went."

Carcel smiled, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Yes, my duchess."

"Carcel," Ines said, her voice steadying. "When we go back down there...promise me something."

"Anything," he vowed.

"Don’t let her touch you again," Ines said fiercely. "She has had her moment. The act is over. I believe it’s enough to convince people. The rest of the night belongs to me."

Carcel leaned down. He kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her lips.

"The rest of the night," he promised, "and the rest of my life."