Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
“Stop that,” the Duke said quietly, his hand moving to intercept the cat.
The Duke sat in his chair behind the desk, Archimedes playing in his lap, and he barely acknowledged her arrival with a slight nod.
Joan settled into her seat and opened the first ledger, acutely aware of the silence that filled the room.
Usually, their sessions involved at least some conversation—questions about the accounts, occasional dry observations, even his infuriating teasing. But today, he simply sat there.
Is he avoiding me? Joan wondered, sneaking glances at him as she worked. Does he know that I know about his engagement? Is that why he’s being so distant?
She tried to focus on the numbers before her, but her attention kept drifting to the Duke.
He looked particularly severe today, his jaw set in a hard line, his posture rigid.
The cat suddenly stirred, stretching and climbing up the Duke’s chest. Its paws reached for the black silk scarf covering his eyes, tiny claws catching in the fabric.
The cat gave one firm tug, loosening the scarf before leaping gracefully from the Duke’s lap onto the desk. It padded over to Joan and settled beside her papers, purring smugly.
“Traitor,” the Duke muttered.
Joan watched as he reached up to adjust the scarf, his fingers working to retie it properly. But the angle was awkward, and his movements grew frustrated as the silk kept slipping through his fingers.
Before she could think better of it, Joan stood and crossed to him.
“Let me help,” she said softly.
The Duke went very still. For a long moment, he didn’t respond, didn’t move. Then, slowly, his hands dropped to his sides.
Joan moved behind his chair, her heart suddenly racing. She was close enough now to catch his scent and to see the way his dark hair curled slightly at his collar.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the silk scarf, untying the knot he’d managed to create. The fabric fell away, and she carefully pulled it free, her fingertips accidentally brushing against his hair.
So soft, she thought, then immediately chastised herself for noticing.
“Will you return to London?” the Duke asked suddenly. “After the scandal dies down?”
Joan’s hands paused in their work. “Yes. If we get a second chance, we will take it.”
“I didn’t take you for a woman who enjoys humiliation.”
Joan frowned, confused. “I beg your pardon?”
“Everyone knows he got a courtesan pregnant. And you still want him.”
Understanding dawned, followed by a soft chuckle she couldn’t quite suppress. Joan positioned the scarf over the Duke’s eyes once more, her fingers gentle as she smoothed it into place.
“I don’t care about your affairs, but I am gracious enough to tell you not to humiliate yourself.”
But his voice had an edge to it that suggested otherwise.
Joan stiffened as she tucked the scarf through his ear. Why did he have to be so insufferable?
“It was my sister who was betrothed to that fool,” she said between her teeth. “And she will never go back to him. Never.”
Joan tied the scarf securely behind his head. “There. All done.”
She straightened and turned to return to her seat, but his hand shot out and caught her wrist, the uninjured one, with unerring accuracy despite his covered eyes.
Joan gasped as he pulled her back. She stumbled slightly, and he guided her down until she was at his level, her hands bracing against the arms of his chair to keep from falling into his lap.
They were so close now. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, and could see the rapid pulse beating at his throat.
“What about you?” His voice was low. “Do you have a man you fancy?”
Joan shook her head, then remembered he couldn’t see clearly. “No. I have none. I fear I am too old.”
His hand moved to her chin, tilting her face up. His thumb traced along her jaw, then hovered over her lips, not quite touching, but close enough that she could feel the heat of his skin.
“How are you so sure?”
Joan’s breath caught. Her heart hammered so loudly she was certain he must hear it. “Doesn’t Your Grace have a much younger woman he’s engaged to?”
The Duke looked confused, his brow furrowing. Then his hand moved to the back of her neck, pulling her closer still. “You don’t have to be so cunning about asking if I’m engaged.”
“Rumor has it she is your friend’s sister,” Joan whispered.
Understanding crossed his features. “Yes. She is my friend’s sister. She comes only out of concern.”
Joan leaned in, searching his face for any sign of deception. But his expression was open, honest in a way she’d never seen before.
He tilted her chin up further. “Your Grace,” she breathed. “Are you telling the truth?”
“I am an honest man.”
He was so close now. So impossibly close. Joan’s eyes fluttered shut as he leaned toward her, his breath warm against her lips—
She pulled away suddenly and she staggered back, putting distance between them, her hand pressed to her racing heart.
“I apologize, Your Grace,” she stammered. “I should return to my work.”
She fled to her seat and bent over the ledger, seeing nothing through the haze of confusion and want that clouded her vision.
Behind her, she heard the Duke release a slow breath.
“My eyes are improving,” he said after a long silence. His voice was carefully neutral once more. “In a few weeks, I should be able to see well enough not to need the covering. Not perfectly clear, but enough.”
“I’m very glad to hear it, Your Grace.”
“It won’t be pleasant to look at. The scars.”
Joan’s pen paused on the page. “I’m not scared. There’s nothing to be scared of.”
Another silence.
“Perhaps,” Joan continued carefully, “when your eyes have healed further, you might consider attending more outings. Visiting the townspeople. They seem to be quite frightened of you, though I believe they have the wrong idea entirely.”
“What if they don’t?” His voice was quiet, almost contemplative. “What if I am as horrible as they say?”
Joan opened her mouth to respond, to tell him that she knew better, that she’d seen his kindness even when he tried to hide it behind coldness, but a knock at the door interrupted her.
Jenkins entered and bowed. “Your Grace, the lady is here to see you.”
Miss St. Vincent, Joan thought, and hated the way her stomach clenched.
The Duke whistled softly. Archimedes immediately abandoned Joan’s side and trotted back to his master, who scooped the cat into his arms as he stood.
“Jenkins will escort you out when you’ve finished for the day,” the Duke said without looking at Joan.
Then he was gone, taking Archimedes with him, leaving Joan alone in the study.”