Lady Ines Scandalous Hobby-Chapter 133 - Hundred And Thirty Three

The evening air was cool and crisp as the black carriage of the Duke of Carleton rolled to a gentle stop in the courtyard of the Hamilton mansion. The gravel crunched softly beneath the wheels, the only sound breaking the quiet anticipation of the night.

Carcel sat inside for a moment, taking a deep breath. He pushed the door open and stepped down. He adjusted his coat, a habit born of nervousness that he would never admit to anyone. He looked at the Hamilton’s front door. He didn’t have to wait long.

The heavy oak door opened, and Ines stepped out.

Carcel felt the air leave his lungs.

She was breathtaking. She wore a gown of shimmering emerald green silk that caught the light of the carriage lanterns. The bodice was cut low, showing off the creamy skin of her décolletage, and the sleeves were delicate lace. Her hair was swept up in an intricate arrangement of curls, woven with small pearls that looked like stars caught in the night sky.

In her hand, she held a fan made of peacock feathers. She looked regal. She looked like a Duchess. She looked like a woman who he is worthy to be with.

Ines saw him standing there, staring at her, and a small, playful smile touched her lips. She descended the stone steps gracefully, her skirts rustling like a whisper.

"Your Grace," she said, her voice teasing. "If you stare at me like that, we shall be late."

Carcel blinked, shaking himself out of his trance. He quickly composed his features, masking his awe with a charming smile.

"If we are late," Carcel said, stepping forward to offer his arm, "it is entirely your fault for looking so distracting."

Ines laughed softly. She slid her gloved hand through the crook of his arm. Her touch was light, but it grounded him.

"You look quite dashing yourself," she murmured as they walked toward the carriage. "Though you always do."

Carcel covered her hand with his own, giving it a squeeze. "I try my best."

He opened the carriage door for her. He helped her up the small steps, ensuring her heavy skirts didn’t catch on the frame. Once she was settled on the velvet bench, he climbed in after her and closed the door. The footman latched it from the outside, sealing them in their private world.

The carriage lurched forward, beginning the journey to the Countess Amelia’s Ball.

Inside, the atmosphere was thick with a mixture of nerves and attraction. They sat across from each other at first. Carcel couldn’t take his eyes off her. The lantern inside the carriage cast a warm, golden glow over her face, highlighting the flush on her cheeks.

"If you look this beautiful for someone’s ball," Carcel said, his voice dropping an octave, "I can’t help but wonder how you would look like in our wedding." 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

Ines’s eyes widened slightly. A deep blush spread across her cheeks, turning them a lovely shade of pink that clashed delightfully with the green of her dress. She raised her feathered fan and hit him lightly on the arm.

Whack.

"Stop teasing me, will you?" she said, though her smile betrayed her. "You know I am nervous enough as it is."

"I am not teasing," Carcel said earnestly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I am simply stating a fact. You are going to outshine the bride, and it isn’t even a wedding so should I say you are going to outshine the host and I’m sure Amelia wove delighted."

Ines lowered the fan. She looked at him—really looked at him. She saw the strength in his jaw and the fierce intelligence in his eyes. But she also saw something else.

"Carcel," she said softly.

"Yes?"

"Hold still."

Carcel froze. "Is there a spider on me?"

Ines giggled. "No. But you have a stray hair."

She pointed to the side of his head. Usually, Carcel’s dark hair was styled to perfection, slicked back and orderly. But the stress of the last few days, the late nights planning with Mr. Vance, and the constant worry about Ines had taken a toll. A lock of hair near his temple had come loose, curling stubbornly over his ear.

"It is ruining your image as the perfect Duke," Ines teased.

She leaned forward from her seat, reaching out with her gloved hands. She wanted to fix it for him. It was a small thing, but it felt important. She wanted him to look perfect when he gets to the ball.

She smoothed the hair back, her fingers brushing against his temple. The silk of her gloves was soft against his skin.

Carcel closed his eyes at her touch. He leaned into her hand, savoring the contact.

"Is it fixed?" he asked.

"Almost," Ines murmured.

She frowned slightly. The stray lock was stubborn. It needed to be tucked back properly, near the back of his ear. But the carriage was swaying, and sitting across from him, she couldn’t quite reach the back of his head comfortably.

She leaned further, stretching her arms. The height difference between them—even while sitting—was significant. Carcel was a tall man with broad shoulders, and Ines was petite.

"I can’t... quite... reach," she muttered, straining slightly. Her corset made it difficult to bend too far forward.

She tried to stand up a little, hovering between the seats, her hands fluttering around his head.

Carcel opened his eyes. He watched her struggle. He watched the way her brow furrowed in concentration. He felt a sudden, overwhelming surge of affection mixed with something darker, something possessive.

"Ines," he growled low in his throat.

"Hush," she said, not looking at his eyes, focused on the hair. "I almost have it. Just sit up straighter."

She was so determined. She was trying to take care of him, even in this small way.

Carcel’s control snapped. He didn’t want her across the carriage. He didn’t want her reaching over a gap. He wanted her close.

"Ines," he said again, firmly.

"Yes?" she asked, finally looking him in the eyes.

She didn’t get a chance to say anything else.

Carcel moved with the speed of a predator. He reached out, his large hands gripping her waist securely.

"Oh!" Ines exclaimed in surprise as the world tilted.

Carcel lifted her effortlessly. He pulled her from her seat, guiding her across the small space between them. In one smooth motion, he settled her onto his lap.

He arranged her so she was sitting sideways, her legs draped over his thighs, her heavy skirts cascading around them like a green waterfall.

Ines gasped, clutching his shoulders for balance. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She was suddenly very high up, and very close to him.

"Carcel!" she whispered, scandalized but thrilled. "We are in a carriage! The driver might hear..."

"The driver is paid to be deaf," Carcel said, his voice rough. His hands settled firmly on her waist, holding her in place. He looked up at her, his eyes burning with heat.

"This angle should be good enough to finish what you were doing, right?" he asked. A smirk played on his lips.

Ines couldn’t talk. Her throat felt dry. She could feel the hard muscles of his thighs beneath her. She could feel the heat radiating from his chest. Being this close to him was intoxicating.

She just nodded, unable to form words.

"Good," Carcel said.

He shifted slightly, getting comfortable. Then, he did something that melted Ines’s heart completely.

He leaned forward and buried his face in her chest.

He rested his head right against the soft curve of her bosom, his forehead pressing against the silk of her dress. He let out a long, shuddering sigh, as if he were laying down a heavy burden.

Ines froze for a second, surprised by the sudden vulnerability. He was using her as his pillow. He was seeking comfort in her.

Slowly, tenderly, Ines resumed her task.

"You are a big baby," she whispered affectionately, though her voice trembled.

She reached for his hair again. Now, the angle was perfect. She was looking down at him. She smoothed the stray lock of hair back, tucking it neatly behind his ear. She ran her fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck, scratching lightly in a way she knew he liked.

Carcel groaned—a low, rumbling sound of contentment that vibrated against her chest. His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer, anchoring her to him.

"It feels good," he mumbled against her dress.

"It is just hair," Ines said, her fingers lingering. She traced the shell of his ear. "There. Now you look perfect again."