The Notorious Marriage
From The Prologue
"I know I shouldn't be here!" Eleanor
said defiantly, immediately the door had closed and they
were alone. She was wearing a black velvet cloak over the
same dress of pale white gold she had worn earlier in the
evening. It was the demure, expensive raiment of the
debutante. Her dark brown eyes, huge in her elfin face,
were fixed on him. Her hair had come out of it's chignon
and rich, chestnut brown curls tumbled about her
shoulders. She looked delectable - and terrified. Kit saw
her lock her fingers together to prevent their trembling.
He deliberately looked away from her.
"You are correct. You should not
be here. It is madness." Kit spoke curtly to mask a
variety of emotions. He came towards her, keeping his
hands very firmly in his pockets. "Miss Trevithick,
I suggest that for the sake of your reputation you should
turn around and go directly home-"
Eleanor shook her head. "Kit, I
cannot! You must help me! I cannot bear to be married off
to Kemble!"
Kit took a deep breath, maintaining a
scrupulous distance from her. Miss Eleanor
Trevithick, temptation personified. His mind was telling
him to show her the door and his body was telling him to
take her in his arms.
“The correct thing to do in
this situation is to apply to your brother,” he
heard himself say sternly. “He is the head of
the family and could easily prevent such a match-”
“You know that Marcus is away
in Devon, and Justin too!” Kit saw tears squeeze
from the corner of Eleanor’s eyes and she rubbed
them impatiently away with her fingers. “Mama
means to marry me off before they return – she is
hot for the match! And I have no one to apply to for help!
Please, Kit-” Her gaze touched his face and moved
away at what it saw there. “Perhaps I was
wrong-”
“You were.” Again, Kit ruthlessly repressed
the urge to take her in his arms. He took a sharp
turn away from her and moved over to the fireplace,
leaning against the marble chimney-breast. “There is
no need for such drama.”
Eleanor was drawing on her cloak,
preparing to leave and looking at him with a mixture of
desperation and contempt in her eyes that angered him
beyond reason.
“I thought you a gentleman,”
she said, softly but with biting sarcasm, “but it
seems I was mistaken…”
Kit tried to clamp down on his
frustration. “It is precisely because I am a
gentleman that I am concerned for your reputation,
Eleanor-”
She made a little noise indicative of her disgust.
“I should have known better than to approach a
gentleman in his cups! I see that everything they
say about you is true!”
Kit crossed the room and leaned his
shoulders against the door panels. He folded his
arms and looked at her. Her face was flushed, her
delectable mouth set in a tight line. He had
noticed her mouth before; it was pink and soft and made
for smiling, not for disapproval. Or made for
kissing… Kit shifted a little.
“And what do they say, Miss
Trevithick?”
