The room surprised me, for now, as I saw it in the muted light of day, I found it was even larger than I thought. Hundreds of books lined mahogany shelves broken up by large and ornately carved wood panels. I longed to pull each book down and examine them one by one. Surely, surely, in such a library, there was bound to be a book about stars. Likely more than one.
I pushed the thought aside, returning to my examination of the room. Plush red carpet filled the oblong space, and several large chandeliers hung from the ceiling. But for now, all the light was natural, coming from the east side of the room, where the second floor boasted an entire wall of windows. For a moment I almost forgot my purpose in coming. But the sight of the fireplace with the figurine missing from the mantel brought my resolve back, and I glanced through the room, looking for the duke.
The large room seemed empty. Perhaps the dowager duchess was mistaken. I narrowed my eyes, remembering I’d thought the same thing the last time I came. I moved methodically through the expansive library, until I pushed aside a curtain that partitioned the room from a small study. There, seated at a mahogany desk that matched the rest of the wood, sat the Duke of Halstead.
He glanced up. My breath hitched at the sight of him, still caught off guard as I was by his handsome features. The strong tilt of his jaw, his arresting dark eyes. I jutted my chin out, determined in my purpose.
“Well, well. Can you go not even one day without trespassing?” His gaze returned to the book in front of him, as if I was unworthy of more than a moment’s notice.
I clasped my hands behind my back. “I did not come to trespass. I came to speak to you.”
“If I wished to speak to you, I would summon you.” His tone of voice, his very mannerisms conveyed that I was being dismissed.
Somehow his response was perfectly calculated to rile me. “And I told you, I will not be ordered about, even if you are a duke.” I shook my head, clenching my teeth in an effort to keep my anger in check. “Let’s not quarrel,” I said, smoothing my skirts. “I came to—” I glanced up and was met with a look of aversion. “I came to apologize.”
He shifted in his seat, at last setting down his book and bringing both hands to rest on top of the desk. I hated standing before him, feeling as though I was about to have my punishment meted out.
“Go on.” He motioned with a lazy hand.
I exhaled, gathering my courage. “My tongue tumbled out of my mouth the other day, as it is wont to do when people give me such disarming glares. And I am afraid you may have come away with the wrong impression because of it.”
A flicker of interest skittered across his expression, and something inside me wanted to fan those embers into a flame. “My involvement in that racing wager was wrong. I was wrong. About your company.” My throat bobbed. “I enjoyed every minute of my time with you during our tour. I cannot remember another afternoon I’ve passed so pleasantly.” My words hung in the air. The memory of tree-climbing as a young girl surfaced, and suddenly I felt as though I stood on a limb far too thin to hold me.
One of his eyebrows lifted, offsetting the symmetry of his face. “Don’t waste your breath with falsehoods. You detest my company as much as I detest yours.”
His words stung like the prick of a thorn when one expects the beauty of a rose. My mind raced. Could it be possible that Thursday afternoon’s enjoyment had been one-sided? Had everything I felt been a farce? Or was he just being cruel, hoping to hurt me as I had hurt him? Difficult though it was I took another step forward, feeling as though the branch beneath me might snap at any moment.
“Your Grace, please—be honest.” My voice trembled, and I cleared my throat, trying to cover my vulnerability. “Was the afternoon we spent together so very loathsome?”
He yawned. “To listen to an entire afternoon of your inane chatter and uneducated questions? Yes, it was loathsome indeed.”
Moisture gathered behind my eyes. My insides felt all wrung together, and my hands began to shake. For one afternoon I’d thought I had seen something different in him, a captivating gentleness that had mesmerized me and pulled me in. But it had been nothing but an act, an attempt to cover his displeasure.
A muscle ticked in his cheek, signaling his annoyance. My brocade skirts swished behind me as I turned to go, struggling to keep my shoulders from sagging so he wouldn’t know how deeply he had wounded me. I swept past the curtain and toward the main door of the library.
Just as I set my hand on the door handle, I heard him rise, bumping against the desk. “Wait,” he said, his voice rough, as if he’d had to fight to release the word. “Wait.” The feeble sound pulsed through the library as he repeated his plea. For a moment, stillness filled the space between us. “Please.”
Chapter Eleven
Unexpectedly, the anguish within me eased a little. That quiet plea opened my heart, allowing me the briefest glimpse into a very private man—one who had closed himself off for almost two years. I could only imagine what those words must have cost him. I closed my eyes as the space between us grew fragile; it seemed the tiniest misstep might unravel the connection we shared.
“Miss Graham.” The carpet must have muted his
