Just Miss Agatha

Chapter 6

Agatha

Air became steel that grated tension into a sort of awkwardness. Though she felt the awkwardness, she doubted it was the same case for him. Languidly did he observe her, as if she were the little fish he had caught and placed in a jar.

The Duke retracted his hand from behind him and exposed a cigar. Casually, he flickered the red flakes and placed the tip into his mouth. She imagined his sharp nose contracting as he inhaled the fumes into his lungs.

He allowed the fragrant smoke to permeate his senses, and a blaze of white emerged from his lips that barely parted. Agatha did not realize they were close enough until she felt the warmth of his breath stroke her face.

His eyes drifted closed in response to the rapture of that initial inhalation. Perhaps a low involuntary groan of pleasure escaped him, or maybe she imagined it.

Two things she hated, smoking and drinking, and her Mama had taught her to. Not because she was raised being told not to do it so as to be a proper lady, no, it was because she saw her Mama indulge and get drowned in it.

The Duke blew smoke onto her face twice, and she did not flinch. She made sure of it. Before him would she not be an open book he could read and scrutinize, because with every drag of the cigar was a chapter of her own written story, one she wished not to remember on that very night.

Instead of continuing to indulge in pleasure on his own, he decided to share. Until now, the Duke poked at her, yet they still had not exchanged words.

He lifted the cigar to her.

She hesitated, not sure if he was really offering it to her, so she would also smoke. But when ticks on the clock passed without him moving, she relented and took it from him.

Agatha had never smoked before. It was no surprise that she coughed the moment she inhaled. She bent over and patted her chest as she wretched. Although she wanted her display to be ladylike, she doubted she managed the part.

When she finally rose, she was met by a smirk planted on his face, eyebrow raised. He did not say anything as he took the cigar from her.

What a virgin impression she had given him.

Over the next few minutes, he did not offer it to her anymore and went on to smoke on his own. He withdrew to himself and turned from her, going back to observe the sky. She stayed by his side, confused as she could not figure out what he found so captivating about the sky.

She might as well leave. Surely, there was another man she could find that would bask in her presence and find pleasure in her company. The Duke was not God's gift to women, after all.

"Your Grace," a man said from behind, "we are ready for you."

The Duke turned to the intruder and passed a nonchalant, "Hmm."

How interesting. Her first interaction with the Duke had gone without an exchange of words. She could make it so that "woe is me" and accuse herself of being not good enough to rouse words from him. But no, the fault was not of her own. The Duke was plain boring, finding the sky more interesting than her.

His long legs took a few steps, and she was ready to go on her way and seek another's company. Yet he stopped and turned to her, asking the unexpected. "Are you not coming?"

She frowned in confusion, quite taken back. His first words to her. His voice was hoarse, heavy, and even authoritative and sure. She almost mindlessly followed before reason took over. "To where?"

His eyes again perused all of her body, "To endeavor further experiences." His stare was intentional and communicated something she would easily know if she had done this so many times.