closeness.
Isobel scarcely noticed the body being removed or Mary picking up the soiled mat—she was safe in the arms of the man she loved. “What are we going to do, Alexander? Where are we going to live? What about the staff?”
He smoothed back her hair and kissed her tenderly. “I’ve a dozen other properties. Tomorrow you shall decide where you wish to live. Then half the staff can remove there and prepare it for us and the rest can go to Grosvenor Square. They might as well be idle in London as anywhere else.”
Leaning back in his arms she stared at him. Could this be the arrogant, autocratic Duke of Rochester speaking so casually about the destruction of his family seat? “Newcomb has been destroyed, does that not bother you at all?”
His arms tightened. “Why should it? I’ve everything I want right here.”
