The cold from the window began to seep through my dress, and I rubbed my hands along my arms, trying to keep warm.
“For as long as you insist on treating me like one. This is my home. I am the Duke of Halstead, and just once I would like to be treated as such.” He sounded dangerously close to losing his temper. “You know you are welcome here, and I have never opposed your right to invite company as you choose. But I refuse to be your lap dog and come whenever you call.”
His mother sighed. “You are ill-humored, as usual, and I am vastly tired of it.”
“I will not insist you stay.”
A rustle of skirts indicated movement. “What’s this? What happened to Grandmother’s figurine?”
I couldn’t help myself. I edged over to where I could peek around the drapes. The duchess stood at the fireplace, looking at the broken pieces.
The duke stood, leaning heavily on his cane. “I lost my balance earlier, grabbed for the mantel, and knocked it to the floor. I’m sorry, Mother.”
“Oh, Halstead. Is it the cold? I know that makes it worse.”
“I am well enough.” His leg bowed, his knee twisting with each step, as he walked toward his mother.
Watching pained me, but I observed with awful fascination the irony of a beautiful man with such a broken body, unable to look away.
The duchess shook her head. “You are not. I shall call for the doctor.”
“No,” he said fiercely. “Please, just leave me.”
She considered for a moment before nodding. “As you wish.” Her skirts swished as she left.
I made my way out from the curtains, no longer cold but steeped in curiosity. “Why did you lie?” I asked, coming up behind the duke.
He did not turn to face me. “Sometimes a lie is easier to accept than the truth.”
I glanced at the mantel, where the figurine lay in pieces. “I am sorry, Your Grace.” A heaviness in my chest made it hard to breathe.
His hand tightened around the knob of his cane. “Of course you are,” he said bitterly.
“I didn’t mean—”
“You should leave, before your reputation is compromised.”
“But I—”
“It was not a suggestion.”
Tears stung my eyes. Without another word, I walked to the door. I turned back briefly, taking in the shadowed planes of his face as he stared into the fire, then hurried to my room before Aunt Agnes went to check on me there and discovered I was missing.
Chapter Two
Sleep eluded me. I paced the floor of my bedroom before settling into the window seat and pushing open the window. A mist of light clouds obscured my view of the stars. I stared up at the slow-moving haze as my mind combed through everything I’d heard about the duke and the whispered rumors of his accident. Had it been a riding accident? I remembered someone mentioning he was rarely seen in public. The very fact that he’d not attended tonight’s dinner—even in his own home—said much.
Finally, I climbed into bed. I lay in the darkness and stared up at the ceiling, trying to recall any other details I’d heard about the duke, but it was useless. Aunt Agnes had prattled on about the castle and its revered owners for hours in the carriage yesterday, but I’d ignored her, preoccupied with the awkward tension that had accompanied the breach between Robert and me.
Now, for the first time in weeks, my mind fixated on something new—my unexpected encounter with the duke in the library. Our interaction left me with a strange mixture of guilt and anger. The man was perplexing. Intriguing. I’d never met anyone quite like him. It felt like hours later when I fell into fits of half-sleep, wondering whether the whole thing had been a dream.
In the morning my eyes were rimmed with dark circles, and I stared at the mirror in frustration. “Lawks and lubbers,” I muttered just as Betsy pushed the door open. “Oh, excuse me, Betsy.” Having been raised in a household with two male cousins, I sometimes struggled to keep my language ladylike. Old habits were difficult to break—except in Aunt Agnes’s presence.
“What’s this, miss?” Betsy picked up the brush and began going through my unruly red hair with it in long strokes.
“Oh, nothing. I slept poorly is all.”
She nodded. “I’m in a bit of a hurry this morning, as your aunt wishes me to try her hair in a new fashion.”
“Of course. A simple chignon will do for today.” I was accustomed to hurrying through the process of getting ready, since Aunt Agnes was too stingy to hire me a lady’s maid of my own. I suspected she put far too much of the monthly allowance she received to care for my younger brother, Harry, and me toward her own comforts.
“How has your stay been thus far?” I asked as Betsy’s deft hands arranged my hair.
“Not as grand as yours, I’m sure, but this castle is enough to take one’s breath away. I must have gotten lost at least three times yesterday.” She grinned as though alluding to some private joke. “Though there were plenty of handsome footmen about to show me the way, and right helpful they were. The trick will be trying to keep track of them all.” She giggled. “I can’t imagine working at such a large house.”
I was tempted to ask her if they spoke of the duke belowstairs but wisely held back. No need to encourage rumors among the staff; Betsy was known for having quite a loose tongue.
Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of my little carved mountain goat resting on the vanity. It was a gift my father had brought me from his travels to the Continent. I reached out and picked the little goat up, examining it while Betsy finished
