Chapter 3 #2
“More to the point, there is a life to your work that speaks of a gift many artists would kill for. In truth, your skill has made this whole chase all the more frustrating and baffling.” He stood and walked to the desk, picking up her sketch, his thumb tracing across the lines of the tree.
The sight of it made her stomach swoop as though she had just missed a step, gooseflesh spreading across her body.
She was grateful that the Duke seemed too transfixed by her sketch to notice whatever was happening in her body. “In just five minutes, you created this. Most artists sign their work, but you do not. You are content simply to let it be in the world without any sort of recognition. Why?”
Because that would be too close to being seen.
Harriet could not make herself say the words.
“Some of us are used to a life without such things.” It was as close to the truth as she could get.
She continued before the Duke could say anything else, not wanting his pity.
“And you have not answered my question, Your Grace.”
He looked at her, and the trick of the light streaming through the window made her think the corner of his mouth had twitched upwards. Do not be ridiculous. She doubted this was a man who smiled at the best of times, let alone when someone was skirting the edges of insubordination.
No doubt it was just her imagination trying to make her feel better about the entire situation.
“True.” Harriet saw the muscles in his neck tense, his lips part slightly and thought he would say something more, but instead, he straightened the lapels of his jacket as he sat back down in his armchair, tucking the sketch into his left breast pocket.
“And you are correct, I am not usually the sort of man who would go to such lengths to seek out an artist, especially not one who clearly had no wish to be found. Nor did I expect that it would take me quite so long to find my quarry.”
“I only found this note yesterday.” Harriet shifted her weight, a giddy feeling rushed through her chest. “Not the most efficient way to get my attention.”
“I had little choice in the matter. Especially when my investigators turned up nothing.” The Duke’s eyes flashed. “You asked why I wanted to find you, and the reason is simple: Phoebe. Your work is the only thing that has drawn her back into this world.”
There was an odd note to the Duke’s tone that Harriet could not quite place. She saw him clench and unclench his hands, noticed the muscles in his shoulders tense as his eyes went distant.
“I did not realize she was your daughter.” Harriet saw the Duke stiffen.
“She is my niece – her guardianship fell to me two years ago, when my sister Rose passed away.” His words drove the air from her lungs.
Her fingers moved towards him, but she saw his muscles tense and hastily clasped her hands together, putting them firmly in her lap. “I am sorry. I cannot imagine how hard that must have been for you both. It is hard to lose someone you love, especially so young.”
She studied his face, looking for some sign of pain or emotion, but it was as still as marble. It made her think of a forest path, overgrown with trees and brambles, a barrier that would not be moved. Focus.
“I promised her mother I would care for her. I have tried everything I can think of to give her what she needs. Governesses, companions, tutors and physicians. All for naught. She had completely withdrawn, until we happened upon one of your pieces in a book.” His was soft, but not warm and Harriet heard an edge to it and tried to puzzle out what it meant, but his face was half turned from her.
“I did not know she could smile like that.”
“I am glad that my work brings her so much joy.” Harriet tried to school her racing thoughts, thinking of Phoebe’s blue eyes and her gentle voice. “She seems a sweet child. But it seems rather a lot of trouble that you have gone to simply because she likes my drawings.”
“It is more than that. Phoebe has been with me for two years and in that time, I have not seen her form an attachment to anything or anyone other than your sketches.” The Duke steepled his fingers together as he leaned back in his armchair.
“My niece reacted to your work in a way I have never seen her react to anything. And then today…” His eyes drifted towards his window and then back to her.
“Phoebe never does that. She does not approach strangers, much less smile at them. It is not just your drawings, it is you that I need.”
It is you that I need. His words echoed around Harriet’s head. The room swam around her, she felt as though the air itself had turned to cotton. She got to her feet, every muscle in her screaming to move.
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the words. She moved towards the desk, gripping it to steady herself. You would not say these things if you knew me. It was too much. It made no sense. No one needed her. “I do not understand.”
“I am asking you to help Phoebe.” He stood as well, but did not move closer. “Please.”
The please caught her off guard, alleviating the rising panic in her chest. She froze, and looked at the Duke. “You do not even know me.”
“I do not need to.” He took a step towards her. “I know you can do this.”
She wanted to ask why he was so certain, but the words stuck in her mouth. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck and she gripped the wood of the desk so tightly her knuckles were white.
“I am not trying to alarm you, Miss Montrose. And I do not expect miracles. I know that this is unusual, but it is clear that you are the answer I have been looking for. And if you are willing, I would ask that you remain here as a companion for Phoebe or something of that nature. Perhaps a governess. You would want for nothing, I would take care of everything you could ever dream of and more.”
He did not move closer even as his blue eyes brightened. Harriet could not tell if she was relieved or disappointed. This is too much.
“I… This is… I could not agree to anything, not without discussing it with my father first.” Harriet clung to the excuse like a drowning man clings to a rope that might drag him to shore.
“Of course, I understand that this sort of thing needs consideration.” The Duke’s eyes went distant as though he was working something out in his head. “Tell me who your father is, and I will write to him.
The words slipped out before Harriet could stop them. “Lionel Montrose, Earl of Devonmere.”
The Duke stiffened, and Harriet prepared for his anger. It did not come. Instead, the Duke turned from her, running a hand through his hair. “Lady Harriet. I should not have assumed your station, though as you did not correct me, I must conclude it caused no offence.”
Harriet nodded, relief washing through her.
The Duke was staring into the fire, his eyes so focused for a moment, Harriet wondered if he had forgotten she was there. “You are his only child?”
Harriet felt every muscle in her body tense as the hair on the nape of her neck stood on end. “I am.”
“And I take it you are unmarried? Either that or you removed your ring before you came here.” He canted his head towards her, his eyes flicking from her bare hand to her face.
“I have no husband.” Harriet stroked her hand self-consciously. Not that it is any business of yours. She wished her cheeks were not quite so red.
“But you must be engaged. Or promised to another.” He frowned.
“No.” Her cheeks were so scarlet she suspected that they could be seen from the gardens. Why do you care that no one wants me?
The Duke’s eyes widened slightly and Harriet straightened, her chin lifting as she bristled.. “I am hardly the first woman to be a spinster at four and twenty.”
“Indeed not.” The Duke stroked his chin. “There is no shame in such things.”
Harriet’s heart sped up. She felt as though she had put her foot in an invisible trap. Why ask if there is no shame? What does this have to do with any of this? It was like he was trying to push her off balance, not that he needed to.
“I cannot ask you to be Phoebe’s companion. I doubt your Father would agree- such an arrangement would get in the way of any potential matches.” The Duke sighed. “And it would be too insecure an arrangement anyway – I see that now.”
Harriet felt her heart sink but did not understand why. She should be relieved. “I could still ask him – as I said, I would like to help.”
The corner of the Duke’s lip curled upwards. “That will not be necessary, m- Lady Harriet. There is only one logical course of action to take.”
Harriet was about to ask what he meant, but before she could the Duke said, “I must ask you to be my duchess.”