Chapter 7 #2
She wished she had asked Laura more questions about her brother. Whenever she had tried, however, Laura’s face grew pained and a little angry, much like the Duke’s expression at that moment.
“My brother has had a hard and unfair life,” she’d said once and no more. It seemed sensible to Thalia not to press the matter. After all, it was not her business. She’d always assumed that Laura and her brother would make peace and reconcile their differences.
What if they don’t?
She bit her lower lip, glancing up at him. “You really never suspected that something was bothering her?”
He eyed her thoughtfully. “No. I did not, but I will be frank with you. Mine and Laura’s paths did not often intersect over the last year or so.
She rarely required my chaperonage to parties, since our mother would take her.
She has always been a clever, independent young woman.
She had her own life, and so did I. I never once assumed that anything was wrong.
That is my fault, and if you are trying to reproach me for not knowing—”
“I am not trying to reproach you,” Thalia said quickly. “I am only trying to understand.”
He stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. At last, he nodded slowly.
“The bookcase, then,” he said. “What do you see?”
What do you see? What a curious way of asking for her opinion.
Thalia chewed on her lip, thinking.
“There are three shelves with copies of Pride and Prejudice,” she began.
“Three shelves, three pieces of paper. But if I’m not mistaken, these quotes are all taken from the very first page of the book.
So…” She stepped forward, reaching for the threadbare volume sitting on the topmost shelf.
The book came free with difficulty, bringing a little dust along with it. She sneezed.
“The maids do tidy in here,” the Duke murmured, sounding almost apologetic. “But I suspect my sister ruins their work just as soon as they are gone.”
“That sounds very much like Laura,” Thalia sighed. She eyed the book. “Well, this looks like any other copy of Pride and Prejudice. Well-read and notably not in German.”
“So, this was a wild goose chase?”
“No, I…” Thalia opened the book, turned to the first page, and froze as a slip of paper fell out.
The Duke crouched down, picking it up. He inspected it for a moment, turning it this way and that.
“An invitation,” he said shortly.
Thalia eyed it. It was not paper, but a stiff, good-quality card embossed with gilt edges and fine, careful writing looping across the front.
This was no careless, last-minute invitation. Somebody had taken a great deal of care with it. Handwritten and expensively made, this invitation meant something.
“Well?” she prompted.
The Duke cleared his throat. “Lady Laura Lockwood is Cordially Invited to an Exhibition at the Castwell Art Gallery,” he read aloud. “No date. But she is mentioned by name.”
“Well, perhaps it’s nothing.”
He shook his head. “No, she hid this invitation carefully. Laura can be careless with her things. I have found invitations and even keepsakes scattered in her room and in the drawing room, but this…” He waved the invitation in the air. “… this was kept safe. I would like to know why.”
Thalia chewed on her lip again. “I see.”
“It seems that you and I will be attending the Castwell Art Gallery soon enough,” he remarked, squinting at the paper.
Thalia stiffened. “Now, wait a moment…”
“Wait for what, my dear? We must investigate.”
She waggled a finger in the air. “Why must I come with you? You asked me to translate some papers, not accompany you on an outing.”
He sniffed, slipping the invitation into an inside pocket. “I am not suggesting that we go now. We shall go tomorrow.”
“In broad daylight?”
He leaned closer to her without warning, a slow smile spreading across his face. Thalia leaned back, reddening.
Why do I have goosebumps? Why is my heart beating faster? Oh, this is ridiculous. I hate this wretched man.
“We must be convincing, my dear,” he whispered. “After all, we are meant to be engaged.”
Ah, she had forgotten about that. Somehow.
His smile widened.
He is enjoying this. He is enjoying my discomfort! Wretched fellow.
“I had better go,” Thalia managed, a little horrified at how thin her voice had become. The roiling in her stomach had increased with his proximity. The sensation, a remarkably odd one, refused to go away.
I have encountered handsome, rakish men before, but none of them have ever given me goosebumps. It must be the situation. Yes, that’s it. The danger Laura’s in and his proximity and the whole situation. This is not a sensible place for me to be.
Clearing her throat, Thalia took a big, pointed step back. The Duke straightened up. His eyes lingered on her, but he made no attempt to move closer. She had hoped that the goosebumps would go away with a little distance, but no such luck.
“I had better go,” she repeated firmly.
“I believe the carriage is waiting outside,” the Duke responded evenly. “It waits for your instruction. You may leave anytime you wish.”
“Very good. Good night, Your Grace.” She bobbed a clumsy curtsey and turned to make a run for it.
His voice stopped her in the doorway.
“If we are to be a convincing engaged couple,” he drawled, “then you must call me Christian.”
She swallowed but did not reply.
As she scurried away down the corridor, light, mocking laughter accompanied her all the way until she was out of earshot.