Sarah Elliott - The Wayward Debutante

Except she wasn’t a servant, and she would be missed. “I don’t know…”

“Six o’clock,” he said, his voice quiet and brooking no argument. Eleanor looked into his eyes and knew he’d won. How had it happened? Everything had moved too quickly, and she just couldn’t keep up. And now he was standing so close to her, his head bent toward hers and his changeable eyes meeting her gaze. He still held her hand, and the gentle, almost imperceptible caress of his thumb made her shiver.

He really was going to kiss her this time; she was sure of it. But he didn’t, not on the lips or cheek, anyway. He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it softly, never taking his gaze from hers.

“I believe you have somewhere to go, Miss Smith, so I will bid you good day. Don’t make my driver wait, or he’ll come find you.”

As he walked away, she took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. What had she allowed herself to be talked into?

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