“I asked you a question.” The voice was unyielding, and I had a difficult time trying to imagine its owner.
“Well, I . . . not usually,” I said finally, feeling like a small girl receiving a rebuke.
“So I am just especially unfortunate, then.”
“I suppose.” I lifted my chin. “And now that I have answered your question, might you answer mine?” I took a step toward him, hoping to get a better view. “I would like to know whom I am speaking with.”
“Stay where you are,” he commanded. “You’ve intruded enough.”
“Sir?” I took another step. Perhaps if we could talk, I might somehow repair the damage of a ruined first impression.
“Don’t come near me,” he snarled, and I froze, the chill in his voice making the hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end. “I’ve never met a woman with such ill-bred manners.”
“Do you presume to know me after only three minutes?” I asked, offended in the face of his abuse. “What kind of gentleman sits in the shadows as he insults a lady?”
He laughed a joyless laugh, full of irony. “A lady, are you? One who sneaks off to the library when you should be down in the drawing room, displaying your musical talents?”
His words miffed me. “As I have none to share, I am sure I won’t be missed.” I inwardly scolded myself for speaking so openly; he had no right to know how much I hated performing before others. I did not want to share anything about myself with this uncouth man.
“I see.” Silence reigned for a moment. “Take a seat,” he commanded finally, his voice soft and dangerous.
“Well, I—”
“Sit,” he repeated, and I sat.
As I waited for him to lecture me on the loss of his beloved and broken heirloom, I studied his outline, trying to guess his age. He had a full head of dark hair; that much I could tell. He held a walking stick in his left hand, and there was something about the way he sat that made me think the cane might not be just for show.
The man laid the cane across his lap. “Once you have finished scrutinizing me, I’d be vastly interested to hear your opinion.”
“You can hardly blame me since you seem intent on remaining mysterious.” My words slipped out before I could stop them.
He turned his head sharply toward me. “My, my. For one so young, you do have quite a tongue.”
I raised my chin again. “I’m twenty. Not so young. It is not as though you are some fading old codger.”
“Did your study of me reveal my age, then?”
“Not precisely. But I’d put you somewhere under forty, if you wish to know.”
He sat forward, one side of his face lit by the fire. His was a severely handsome face with dark brows and a defined jaw. His lips were full, and one side of his mouth was tipped up in amusement. He was younger than I’d expected—perhaps only thirty.
His striking features set me off balance. I’d felt much more comfortable with him when he’d sat in the shadows as a faceless voice. Looking around, I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I was in the library, alone, with a gentleman. “I’m not sure I should—”
One hand slid down his cane. “Ah, you fear for your reputation. You need not. For most people I have ceased to exist.”
Intrigue pulled me to the edge of my seat, the impropriety of the situation forgotten. “What do you mean?”
A hand passed over his brow. “Forget what I said.”
“You are the most peculiar gentleman I’ve ever met,” I said, struck by the oddity of the situation.
“And you the most peculiar lady I have met.”
I shook my head. “Surely not.”
“Indeed you are. Though it would be arrogant of me to presume to know you, three minutes in your presence has revealed a great deal. You detest the tedium of the fashionable crowd. You don’t act like a lady when you think you are alone”—my mouth dropped open, but he gestured toward me—“your gloves are off, and with your hair undone, it looks as though your shoulder is aflame.” My bare hand went to my auburn hair, loose about my shoulders. “And you touch—and break—things that are not your own.”
If only I had retreated to my room. There was little to say in my defense. “I am not usually peculiar; I am usually quite ordinary. And ladylike.” I clasped my hands together in my lap.
“How disappointing.”
I raised my brow, uncertain whether he was mocking me. “I am sorry about the figurine. Perhaps I could—”
“I assure you it is irreplaceable.”
“I see. Well, it is my cousin’s fault, you know. If he hadn’t—” I bit my lip.
“Is there another person in the library I’m unaware of?” He looked around as if expecting someone to come forward.
“No, of course not. I only meant he was occupying my thoughts.”
“How inconsiderate of him.” His dark eyes raked over me, flickering with interest.
“Well, no—” I had never felt so flustered. I shook my head. “Oh, never mind.”
A muffled voice sounded through the door. “William, are you in here?” I recognized the voice; it belonged to the duchess, our hostess.
He pointed over to the window. “Quick. Behind the drapes.”
Hardly knowing why, I obeyed. I still did not know who this man was. I pulled the thick drapes around me, trying to hold as still as possible. I heard the door open and quiet footsteps moving and imagined Her Grace entering the room.
“William,” she said in a reprimanding tone.
“Yes, Mother.” His voice softened but still held a trace of annoyance.
“I’m very put out. We have company, yet you insist on hiding away in here. And you, the Duke of Halstead!”
I bit back a gasp. I’d been talking to the duke ?
She went on. “Have you no respect for our reputation? The
