Fallen Angel

He let her go no further.

‘You looked beautiful.’ The words came harsh and ragged and hardly like the Duke of Westbourne. In consternation she looked up to find darkened eyes boring down into her own. ‘Thompson will deliver you to Greerton, Miss Stanhope,’ he said unevenly, opening the door to his carriage to let her in and stepping firmly back as she seated herself. ‘And I will see you at my ball.’

She could only nod, watching as he signalled to his driver to leave, watching as he turned back to Louisa’s house, a desperate dread beginning to form about her mind as she realised his intentions. Would Louisa be savvy enough to deflect his curiosity? She hoped so. How she hoped so.