“You didn’t know,” she whispered.
His expression shuttered, but he did not pretend to misunderstand. “I would not have come anyway.”
A week ago, she would have believed that. Today, she was not so sure. Silkridge’s strong sense of duty would have won out over past slights. Mr. Marlowe had to know that. Her heart clenched.
The oversight was no accident. A man who would force theCressmouth Chronicleon his grandson and mention every villager by name in his will would not have left a task as obvious as informing his grandson of his ill health to chance.
Whatever rift had come between them, she could no longer presume Silkridge shouldered the blame. If the duke had not been informed of his grandfather’s condition, it was because Mr. Marlowe had planned it that way. Despite how his grandson might feel.
She swallowed. “Your grandfather should have—”
“He’s gone,” the duke interrupted. “Let’s neither beatify nor vilify him. We know what kind of man he was.”
Noelle was no longer certain she knew what kind of man Mr. Marlowe had been.
This town had been here for her, if not from the moment of her birth than at least ever since her basket was discovered on the castle steps. Silkridge could not say the same. The town had not been there for him any more than his own grandfather had. An eight-page circular four times a year was not the same as having a family.
She suddenly wished she could change that for him. Undo years of estrangement and give him not only a grandfather but an entire town. If he could understand why she felt as she did about Cressmouth, perhaps he would have learned to feel the same.
But that ship had sailed.
No. It had never existed. The past was immutable. Perhaps the duke had strong reasons not to wish to stick around in the present. She straightened her shoulders. All she could do was keep her distance. Protect her heart however she could.
Footsteps sounded on the landing.
She and Silkridge broke their silent gaze and turned their heads toward the open doorway.
“Begging your pardon, Your Grace.” A footman stood at the ready. “The aviary is complete. Mr. Fawkes sent me to inform you that the item you requested has been placed inside, per your wishes.”
Noelle’s stomach sank. The aviary was done; the partridge delivered. There was nothing left to detain the duke from leaving. He could be gone within the hour.
“Just a moment.” Silkridge turned to Noelle, his expression inscrutable. “Since you love to organize events, can you arrange for a bottle of champagne and as many witnesses as necessary to be present outside the aviary at noon tomorrow?”
Tomorrow. He was giving her twenty-four hours to accomplish a task that could be completed in less than one. She swallowed. Perhaps the extra day was for them.
“As you please,” she said quickly. “How many witnesses? The will specified a minimum of four.”
His gaze lowered for a moment before he responded. “The entire town is welcome to attend.”
She glanced up sharply from the notes she was writing. “You’re making the official inauguration a community event?”
He raised a brow. “Did you think I would not?”
“I was positive you would not,” she admitted. “Your grandfather’s will and testament specifically stated that you are not required to do so. You’ve no particular affinity for the project. I would have assumed you’d rather finish the task with as little fuss as possible in order to be on your way more swiftly.”
“And you would be right,” he said. “But the town would prefer to be present. The aviary does not belong to me, but to Cressmouth. Perhaps I’ll even get a mention in the next circular.”
The corner of his mouth gave a self-deprecating quirk.
Noelle did not smile. She couldn’t. Her heart was beating too rapidly at the sweetness of the gesture. He was doing the opposite of what he wished to do for the benefit of her town. Or possibly… for her.
“Very well,” Silkridge said to the footman. “That will be all.”
“Wait.” Noelle winced. Had she just contradicted a duke in front of a servant? She would apologize later. She put the finishing touches on the announcement she had been drafting and ran over to the footman. “Please see that this gets copied and posted throughout town by the end of the day. Put it next to the bills for tonight’s play.”
The footman accepted the papers and headed off with alacrity.
She glanced over her shoulder toward the duke’s desk and nearly jumped out of her skin to discover he was right behind her. Her pulse quickened.
