Author: Tammy Andresen
Category: Historical
Go to read content：https://readnovelfree.com/p/32859_8
There were no rules here.
She swallowed down a lump, her steps faltering. Should she continue to follow?
It was foolish.
But then again, she needed to make some progress toward a future for all of them.
Drawing in a fortifying gulp of air, she started for the door again.
Whispers: Interactive StoriesMake your own choices and decide what happens next!
Chapter Three
Carmella’s hand had slid from Dylan’s elbow to his back and if he weren’t mistaken was slowly making its way to his backside.
Had he avoided these parties? They were far more interesting than he’d ever imagined.
Not that he wished for Carmella’s hand on his rump. In fact, he decidedly did not want her touching him anywhere.
Why didn’t he just let the indebted title slide to the next heir? He could make enough to stave off the creditors and allow the rest of it to go to the devil.
And be the failure everyone assumed he would always be.
He frowned. What did he care?
They were right. He was a waste.
Carmella laughed, loudly, at her own joke and he joined in, not having heard a word. What did it matter?
He could propose tomorrow, and she’d likely say yes. It made him tired. This was going to be his life?
He sighed as Eliza passed by, her simple silk gown of cream shimmering in the candlelight. She was alone again and headed for the doorway, looking rather singular in her purpose. He pulled back his chin as he watched her. What was she up to?
He followed her gaze and then nearly cursed out loud.
Standing in the doorway, rakishly leaning against the jamb, was a man who was...well bloody hell if he wasn’t just as tall, dark, and handsome as Dylan. And that man, whoever he was, was looking right at Eliza. Watching her progress across the room.
Dylan straightened, his back expanding as Eliza made her way through the crowd.
For a moment he wondered if he was mistaken.
She had some sort of pull over him. Perhaps he was imagining the entire thing. Surely, she wasn’t attempting a second clandestine meeting within a half hour?
But as she drew closer to the fellow, he pushed off the wall.
And just like with Dylan, she stopped four feet away from t
he man.
Was he talking? It looked like he was conversing with her.
“My lord?” Carmella cut in. Her hand had come back up to the small of his back, but she was pulling on his coat, flapping it away from his skin, causing puffs of air to travel up his back. “Are you listening?”
He cleared his throat and looked down at the woman to whom he was supposed to pay attention. The one who had the potential to right his title and make him the hero of his family rather than the wastrel. “Of course, I am, my lady,” he gave her a winning smile. “How could I not? Your story about…” He paused. What had she been talking about?
“My cat, Tulip,” she huffed.
“Yes, of course. Fascinating.” And then he placed a hand over hers, the one tucked in the crook of his arm.
She blushed. But it was nothing like Eliza’s. Poor Carmella. Her skin turned blotchy with her spotted cheeks and neck.