Jacquie D’Alessandro - Seduced at Midnight

She cut off the thought with a violent shake of her head. Could be what? Friends? Hardly. Not only would her parents forbid such an association with a man they'd view as nothing more than an ill-bred, common nobody, but why would Gideon want to be friends with a woman he believed to be nothing more than a foolish, spoiled princess?

Nor could they ever be anything else. Certainly not acquaintances who met in dark gardens for stolen kisses. She was fortunate no one had come upon them. Mother had noted her absence from the party and had scolded Julianne, even after she'd offered the excuse that she'd felt unwell and had merely found a quiet alcove to rest for several minutes. No, to find herself alone again with Gideon would prove too much of a temptation. It was one thing to want him in the solitary privacy of her own thoughts, where they were not only friends but lovers. It was quite another to try to control her desires when she was with him. Close enough to touch. Especially now that she knew how he tasted. How he felt. How he kissed.

Drawing a resolute breath, she exited her bedchamber. She'd force down some breakfast then position herself in the morning room window seat where she'd see Gideon arrive at the house. She'd tell him the truth and be done with her deceit. And carry the memory of their heated kiss in her heart.

When Julianne approached the dining room, her steps slowed, and she frowned at the muffled sound of her parents' voices coming from within. Botheration. Mother rarely awoke this early, and Father usually took a tray in his private study on those occasions when Mother did come to breakfast early. It was unusual for them to eat together in the morning-a fact that piqued her curiosity, especially after she heard her father say her name.

Angling herself to remain out of sight, she approached the oak door, which stood slightly ajar.

"-have appointments today with Beechmore, Penniwick, Haverly, and Walston," came her father's gruff voice.

"What about Eastling?" Mother asked.

"I spoke to him last night. He's scheduled to arrive directly between the others."

"Excellent. Good for them all to be aware of the competition. But of course you're favoring Eastling."

Julianne held her breath, waiting for her father's reply. When it came, her stomach clenched.

"Naturally," Father said. "The duke's holdings and influence are far more vast than the others'. If we can reach an agreement, the marriage could take place very quickly."

"Not for at least several months. There's a wedding to plan, the banns to post-"

"Eastling made mention of a special license. Said he'd have neither the time nor desire for a fancy affair before returning to Cornwall-with a bride-in two weeks' time. I'll know more after our meeting today, but you'd best prepare yourself to do whatever it is women do in such circumstances-arranging for a wedding dress, et cetera. And do it quickly."

The clink of silverware against china, followed by the scraping of a chair against the floor jerked Julianne from the stunned state into which she'd fallen and spurred her to action. She sprinted across the corridor and had just secreted herself in the small alcove there, when her father emerged from the dining room. Shrinking into the shadows, she willed herself to be invisible. He strode past. Seconds later she heard a door close firmly, indicating he'd entered his private study, as was his habit after breakfast.

For the space of several erratic heartbeats, Julianne remained frozen in place, her ears ringing like a death knell with the echo of her father's words. She pressed her palms against her cramping midsection, but the pressure did nothing to calm her inner tumult.

Dear God, this was worse than she'd thought. If Father's plans fell into place, she'd find herself married to the duke and shipped off to the wilds of Cornwall, all within a fortnight.

A silent scream reverberated through her, shaking her insides until they roiled in protest. Surely she shouldn't be so distraught, suffer such a violent reaction, to news that was hardly shocking; she'd always known she would marry, and in accordance with her father's wishes. Known full well the time was approaching for a husband to soon be chosen.

Yes, but she hadn't known soon would be quite so soon . Or that she'd find her prospective groom so unappealing. Or that she'd be forced to live in Cornwall, so far away from her beloved friends and everything she'd ever known.

A calm, inner voice of reasoning tried to insert itself into the panic threatening to overtake her. What difference did it make if her wedding took place in two weeks or two months? As for His Grace, given his wealth and position, he was one of the most eligible bachelors in the kingdom. And although he was past the first bloom of youth, he was far less decrepit than most men of his exalted rank. As for his dour, frosty demeanor, perhaps a young wife could coax him into better humor. She'd be a duchess. The toast of the ton. Mistress of a magnificent estate. She should be ecstatic.

Yet the thought of pledging her life to the duke, of being a wife to him… in word and deed… she squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hands tighter against her protesting stomach. The thought of him touching her, kissing her, of sharing intimacies with him…a shudder ran through her. When he'd held her during their waltz last night, she hadn't experienced the slightest spark of desire-a fact that was made even more painfully obvious after her passionate interlude with Gideon.

Still, the thought of marrying any of the other prospective suitors scheduled to call today left her equally bereft and empty. None of them were the sort of man she longed for, not only because she didn't find any of them attractive, but mostly because none of them cared a jot about her. Only her money. That and the fact that she looked decorative sitting on a settee.

She could see her life as the Duchess of Eastling stretched before her… years and years of a lonely, passionless existence with a cold, indifferent husband. No adventures, no jolts, no excitement…just day after lonely day.

An image of Gideon rose in her mind, and she had to press her lips together to quell the cry of longing that rose in her throat. A litany of if onlys raced through her mind. If only Gideon were a nobleman. If only she weren't an earl's daughter. If only she were free to follow her heart. If only she were brave enough to take what she wanted, to have the sort of adventure she craved. She wasn't foolish enough to believe Gideon cared for her, but neither was he immune to her, at least physically. And certainly she was attracted to him. Painfully so. In a way she'd never been to any other man. And she'd never describe him as boring. He wasn't tainted with the jaded ennui of the gentleman of the ton. And while he wasn't a nobleman, she knew, in her heart, that he was a noble man.

She forced her eyes open and pulled in several slow, calming breaths. Her future would be decided by the end of the day or very soon thereafter, and the Duke of Eastling loomed on her horizon like a gloomy, frosty, dark cloud. Time was short, urging her, compelling her, to do… something. Take some action. Grab what little happiness she could before she was shackled by unbreakable vows and an existence far away.

But how? What could she do? A humorless laugh escaped her. If only she had a ghostly lover like Maxwell from The Ghost of Devonshire Manor to assist her. He'd helped Lady Elaine in numerous ways, both in and out of the bedchamber-

She stilled, struck immobile by the idea that sprang to life in her mind. She shook her head, trying to jar the thought loose, but it refused to budge. Rather, it took root and grew at an alarming rate. She mulled it over for several minutes, frowning even as a sense of purpose and excitement snaked through her. The plan was so outrageous she doubted even Emily would dare it. It would require more courage than Julianne had ever exhibited in her entire life, for she risked a great deal. Indeed, she risked everything.