Pricing The Heart

Chapter 9

David remained in his bedchamber for the rest of the day, unwilling to endure Jon's presence and the swirling headache it provoked in him to think he had set his interests upon Eloise. He avoided his son, Adam, as well, unwilling to suffer the memories the child's face would certainly inspire.

Restless, he rang for his supper to be brought up to his bedchamber and settled by the hearth with a newspaper. He had barely gone through the first page when a soft knock sounded on the door.

"Enter." He placed the paper on the table and turned to the door, his eyes immediately locking with Eloise. She stood there by his doorway, her face ashen, lips parted slightly as she stared back at him. Confused by her presence, he watched her. Perhaps she was here to seduce him like she had done to Jon in his absence, he thought, frowning. The thought of Jon caused a bitter taste to fill his mouth; even more so the thought of Jon with Eloise as they partook of the pleasures of sin.

"My lord—" she curtsied —"where shall I place this?" She raised something before her. He glanced at it, seeing then the tray of food in her hands. Instantly ashamed of his initial thoughts of her motive in his room, he cleared his throat.

"Here," he said, motioning to the coffee table before him. She stepped forward, his gaze following the gentle sway of her hips as she carried the tray to where he sat. The soft, feminine scent of her brushed his nostrils—a combination of lye and spices—stirred something warm in him as she leaned down and placed the tray on the table.

He gritted his teeth against the sensation and took his fork. "You're dismissed," he murmured, waving her off.

She straightened. "I beg your pardon, my lord, but I must request for a few seconds of your time." His frown deepened as a sense of unease settled over him. The last thing he wanted was to spend any more of his time on Eloise; he already spent his entire day thinking about her. She had plagued and troubled his thoughts, and now he desired nothing more than to be rid of her—to rid his mind and raging emotions of her.

He opened his mouth to dismiss her once again, but one look at her weary eyes and he knew something was wrong. "What is it?!" he asked, his voice sounding harsher than he had intended. Eloise jumped as a result, sending a stab of guilt through his heart. Heaving a breath, he replaced his fork on his plate and turned fully to her. "You may speak," he tried again, schooling his voice to sound calmer than he felt.

"I'm here to beg for my lord's forgiveness," she said, surprising him.

"Why do you need my forgiveness?"

She hesitated for several seconds, her eyes dimming. "What you witnessed earlier, my lord—"

"There is nothing to forgive!" he spat, silencing her as his anger returned. She was a fool to believe she owed him an explanation for her actions—to think her apology mattered to him. She was a fool to believe he cared enough to be affected by her actions.

She fell to her knees then, clasping her trembling hands before her. "I beg you believe me, my lord. Nothing happened!" Tears welled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. The overwhelming urge to reach out and wipe her tears with his thumb washed over him, but gripped the armrests instead.

"What do you suppose I think happened?" he asked, tightening his grip on the armrests. She was a thief—he bitterly reminded himself—and she was a whore. He had seen for himself what she was capable of when he walked into his study to find her in Jon's arms. While the sight of the two had infuriated him, it didn't surprise him to find that Eloise was interested in Jon. Jon was a duke, after all, with a ridiculous amount of wealth to his name. He could afford to have a mistress, and had accommodated several in the past; some of which were married. And Eloise was a lowlife in need of money.