He had a frown on his face as he observed the confident, rolling strides of the duke. They came upon a rather impressive door which the duke unlocked. The duke stepped inside his domain and made for the chair by the fire which faced the door. The one where he could see all the avenues of entry and escape from that one position.
Jules glanced around. The room was bare save for two large armchairs by the roaring fire. Between the chair rested a table with a chess set in play, a book, and a glass of something golden. The splash of color came from the beautifully woven blue carpet and the matching drapes with silver tassels. Jules glanced around, feeling the echoes of the emptiness in her body.
The duke liked space. But where did he write his correspondences? Where were the rest of the books, the paintings, the desk, and globes and scrolls? The space did not invite comfort and relaxation—it was cool and intimidating. It suggested distance between him and this world. Worse, it was a place he liked. There was no tension within him, just a predatory awareness as he watched them observe his room.
How truly fascinating.
“It is important to my mother and family that we meet. Hence, I am allowing it. You must state your purpose here today and let me understand what it is my mother hopes we might achieve with this meeting. Do be concise.”
Her father shot her a quick frown and gripped his black satchel before relaxing his fingers around the leather. “We appreciate your time, your Grace.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Good. Endeavor not to waste it,” the duke murmured.
That soft, insouciant reply threw Jules for precious seconds. This man was not addlepated as the dowager duchess suggested. He was…terribly, icily composed. Seated in the chair with one of his hands resting against the armrest, and the other casually resting on his knees, the duke did not fidget, nor did his gaze wander restlessly. There lingered a faint cynicism in his expression, a hint of self-assurance, and an awareness of the power he owned.
Somehow, she had expected a duke handicapped by his circumstances. The duchess’s fears seemed to have been rooted in the hopes and expectations she had for her son. Not in science or anything evident. Jules frowned. Perhaps the duchess’s fear was provoked by the indifferent composure of the duke. But what did that suggest but a strength of purpose and will that was not detected in most men?
He is the most extraordinary creature after all.
Something unspoken lingered in the room, and she felt uneasy.How unusual.
“Your Grace,” she said, stepping forward with a slight bow. “I am Mr. Jules Southby. My father and I would like the opportunity—”
The duke’s gaze landed on her and, for the second time that day, white noise filled the space in her head. The reaction was outrageousandembarrassing.
He seems so elegant…intelligent and cunning. That impression felt stamped onto Jules’s awareness, making her feel silly for even noticing.
He unfurled from the armchair, a slight frown flickering on his face. “Who are you?”
Her steady eyes met his unwaveringly. “I am Mr. Jules Southby. I am here to take notes for my father, Dr. Charles Southby, and to assist him in his assessment and report, Your Grace.”
“A gentleman scholar,” the duke said softly, his gaze lingering on the moustache above her lips. “How old are you?”
Her father stepped forward. “Your Grace—”
His gaze slashed to her father, and whatever Papa saw in the duke’s eyes made him falter.
The duke’s regard returned to her. “Have I made some social gaffe by requesting your age?”
“Some might consider it impolite.”
He canted his head. “But not you?”
Jules allowed a small, reassuring smile to tip the corner of her mouth. “Not me. Some have said I am more the unflappable sort.”
A calculating glint entered the duke’s eyes, and with a sense of astonishment, Jules realized her attempt to reassure him had done the opposite. He now found her suspicious. She carefully glanced at her father and deduced he had drawn the same conclusion. “I am three and twenty, Your Grace.”
“You are young.”
“Many gentlemen complete their studies at this age.”
Oh, bloody hell, she hoped he did not think this was a reminder that he had not done so. The duke’s expression only remained mildly curious, and the tension in Jules’s shoulders eased.
“What exactly was your pursuit in University, Mr. Southby?”
