Benjamin’s tight shoulders sagged in relief. This would work after all. “Yes. A partridge for the aviary. As soon as possible.”
Mr. Fawkes straightened his spine with renewed confidence. “You shall have it tomorrow, Your Grace.”
He gave a merry click of his heels and marched off.
Benjamin ought to take this opportunity to do the same.
“That’s taken care of,” he told Noelle gruffly. “I believe I’ll retire for the day. Good night.”
She nodded without looking up. No doubt she was the one person in Cressmouth who wished him gone as urgently as Benjamin himself.
He carried the stack of summons downstairs to be dispatched at once, and instructed the footmen not only to wait for a reply, but to promise an even greater increase in salary if the answer was anything but yes.
With the restoration of the aviary sorted, Benjamin headed back upstairs toward his guest chamber. At the landing, he belatedly realized he had no idea where he had been transferred. Noelle had mentioned she had taken the liberty of moving him. Had it been a jest?
He caught sight of a passing maid and inquired if he had indeed been assigned to a new room.
“That you have, Your Grace.” She gestured down a familiar corridor. “Last door on your left.”
His breath caught. Not a guest chamber. His old room. The private quarters that had once belonged to Benjamin himself.
He thanked the maid and made his way quickly down the corridor.
When he pushed open the door, he was not greeted by cobwebs or a stuffy chill, but a bright fire and a silver tray piled with his favorite cakes. He breathed in the warm, familiar scents.
Noelle had done this, he realized. She had brought back a slice of his past and gifted it to him in the present. His heart thumped. She was more than a clerk or personal advisor. This move had given her away.
Whether she wished to admit it or not, a small part of her still cared.
Chapter 6
Noelle curved her fingers about the warm teacup in her hands and lowered her face to breathe in the fragrant, familiar aroma. These were her favorite moments of each morning.
Although her friends loved to tease her for her unusual taste in tea, the detour through the greenhouse to pluck fresh mint ensured she started each day with nature and beauty. Then, once she arrived at the castle’s community dining area, she broke her fast surrounded by hundreds of people she had known and loved her entire life.
What could be better than indulging a favorite ritual among such marvelous company? Until recently, Noelle might have answeredNothing could be better.
Today, the minty steam flushing her cheeks did not bring the same simple joy as usual. Instead of joining her friends and neighbors in conversation, her mind was focused on the gentleman least likely to partake of Cressmouth’s many charms.
When she’d heard Mr. Marlowe’s words for his grandson at the reading of the will, Noelle had fully expected a man as busy and important as the Duke of Silkridge to laugh off the preposterous terms of his bequest and return to London without any attempt to fulfill the eccentric requirements.
She knew better than to read too much into the fact that Silkridge had stayed. He was not on holiday. He had been coerced into an unexpected delay that very much went against his plans.
But what about Noelle’s plans to keep her distance? She, too, had been maneuvered into deviating from her safe, comfortable routine. She had been assigned as helpmate to a man she’d never expected to lay eyes on again. But now that she had…
She set her empty cup onto its saucer and straightened her spine. Just because he was as handsome and maddening and temporary as ever did not mean she could use the community dining area as her private refuge.
After all, she was not afraid of falling in love with Silkridge all over again. She knew better this time. Besides, her role as personal advisor meant that every time she helped him fulfill the will, she was also hurrying him back out of her life. Which was what she wanted. Wasn’t it?
Enough stalling. Noelle prided herself on not being the sort to dither, and she wasn’t about to start today.
Without further ado, she marched from the dining area to the spiral staircase leading up to the counting house and mounted the narrowing steps with determination. She wasimperviousto the Duke of Silkridge. She would prove it.
Even before her booted feet crossed the final threshold, Noelle sensed his presence.
He was seated at the oversized mahogany desk that had once belonged to his grandfather, himself oversized in both body and spirit. Silkridge was dwarfed by neither. His presence seemed to fill the small room.
As always, everything about him was portrait-perfect. His jaw, strong and smooth. His hair, styled just so. The cut of his suit expensive, his waistcoat understated, his cravat a work of art. She swallowed.
