The duke did not wait to see if she would obey his command, strolling out into the night. The moon shone faintly in the dark sky, and in the distance woodland creatures chirped. Jules fell into step beside the duke, ambling with him for long minutes in silence.
“I am not insane, Southby. I hope that I would sense that I had taken leave of my mental faculties.”
His tone had the edge of anger, causing a ripple of discomfort to course over her skin.
“I know you are not, Your Grace.”
He sent her a sharp, assessing glance. “Do you truly know it?”
“Yes.”
“However, your father does not believe it, thus he decided it was necessary to intrude upon a private moment to spy upon me?”
She winced at the stinging rebuke. “I think Papa knows it, but he must be certain of it himself and cannot only rely on my assessment, Your Grace.”
“Why not?”
“I have not his skills or experience of this world or medical matters. For the world…or more like England and the Queen, you are a curiosity…a marvel…amiracle. My role here is to assist my father to provide a good report to the queen and to reassure your mother that all will be well.”
“I can do that myself,” he said smoothly. “My mother is eager for me to travel with her to town in as little as three weeks for her grand ball. I am certain I will find your presence fairly tolerable until that time.”
Jules chuckled, surprising herself. “Thank you, I shall endeavor to not make a nuisance of myself.”
The duke stopped at the edge of the woodland, peering into the inky blackness. They stood there for immeasurable minutes, the silence cloaking their presence distinctly unfathomable.
“Will you return inside, Your Grace?”
“No.”
“I am by no means an expert on social etiquette and proprieties,” she murmured, “but I do believe it is considered abominably rude to leave in the middle of dinner with your family.”
An odd sound came from the duke, almost like an irritated grunt. “Am I to account for every action of mine?”
“Sometimes it is necessary with those who love us.”
“I find I do not enjoy the rich taste of the food. I am going to hunt for my dinner.”
“Hunt?”
“That is what I said, Southby. Would you like to join me?”
Jules was so astonished by the invitation, she nodded.
The duke had that odd smile at his mouth again, pushing her to wonder about his musings. She followed him into the woods, thankful for the moon slicing through the thick leaves overhead. They walked for several minutes in silence, the only sound her trampling boots echoing in the forest. She could barely discern the tree line and kept her gaze pinned on his broad shoulders, allowing him to be her guide. The duke walked with incredible stealth, his prowl predatory.
Jules almost tripped over her feet when they emerged in a clearing, the pathway lit with lanterns. In the distance, an owl hooted, and the duke lifted his hand over his mouth and replied in kind. They walked along the dirt pathway, and Jules stopped, staring up at a sight she did not understand. It seemed as if it was a cottage, built high into the trees.
There was some sort of roped ladder hanging down from the large opening to the foot of the trunk. The building was rather magnificent, and intricate. The tree house seemed to be a part of two majestic oaks, rising to the skyline. It felt almost impossible for such a thing to have been built. Lanterns were hung suspended on tree branches that were attached to the cottage itself. Immediately the forest felt quaint and enchanting.
“The cottage isinthe tree,” Jules said faintly, peering up at the structure. “What is that thing hung between those thick branches?”
“A hammock. It is a thing to lie in if one wishes to.”
She cocked her head to the side. “You have no fear you’ll topple off and fall to the ground?”
“No,” he said, his tone warmly amused.
“Permit me to ask who designed and made it?”
