“I expect the castle to be packed with people,” she said instead. “There will be refreshments after, of course.”
He shook his head. “Not for me. By then I’ll be on my way back to London.”
Of course he would. Their hours were already numbered.
Her lips tightened. She should not even be speaking to him. Having him at arm’s reach, knowing his presence was only temporary, dredged up all the old feelings, the hackles, the shields. This was not a reunion. It was a brief, chance encounter between former acquaintances who had once shared an equally brief kiss.
If he would not stay for her before, the promise of a refreshment table clearly would not be enough to tempt him.
She doubted anything could.
“Enjoy being home,” she said. “Christmas hasn’t been the same without you.”
It had been better. Safer.
She straightened her spine. From now until his departure from town, she would endeavor to avoid him completely. Seeing him ripped open a scar she had believed long healed.
“Cressmouth is not home,” the duke growled. “And don’t call it—”
“Happy Christmas!” she chirped as sunnily as possible, then turned her back and walked away with her head held high.
Chapter 3
The warm fire crackling in the hearth of Noelle’s bedchamber kept the chill of winter safely on the other side of her frosted window panes.
But not even a merry fire could keep her constant thoughts of Silkridge at bay.
Until he had stepped foot inside the castle last night, Noelle had been perfectly content. Zero arrogant London gentlemen in her life appeared to be the ideal number. The sooner he was gone, the better.
This morning, she dressed with extra care. Not because she had any wish to cast a favorable impression upon Silkridge, but because she wished to achieve the opposite effect. They were not compatible in any way. She couldn’t trace her parentage back one generation, let alone ten. He believed her a country hick living in some forgotten town? She would prove she didn’t need him or pretentious London finery to be happy.
She left her gowns and her riding habits and her dashing walking dresses in the back of her armoire and cloaked herself in an old day dress four years out of fashion. The last time he had been in town, she had worn all her best garments. They had gone riding, taken long walks… she had even hoped for a dance at the upcoming assembly.
It hadn’t come. He had left. She wanted no reminders of the foolish girl she had once been.
She adjusted her dowdy gown before the looking-glass. Her neighbors would not judge her for it. Cressmouth’s townsfolk cared more about a person’s interior than her exterior.
Noelle’s shoulders curved. When it came to her, it was quite possible Silkridge wouldn’t notice either aspect. She had spent more time tryingnotto appear as though she’d been obsessing about him, than he had thought of her in five long years.
Disgusted with herself for allowing his presence to affect her thoughts and actions even for a moment, she spun away from her looking-glass and crossed her bedchamber toward the corridor.
She paused with her fingers above the handle, gripped in sudden terror. The duke’s guest chamber might be near hers. He could be right outside in the corridor.
The topmost floor on the north wing of the castle was reserved for family. Noelle had earned such a prestigious spot in exchange for her work in the counting house. Silkridge was guaranteed a place due to being born in the right lineage.
If he was standing on the other side of the door, she might be forced to continue on in his company. After all, they were heading to the same place.
Well, wasn’t that what her costume was for? She was nothing like his London ladies and had no wish to be. So much the better if he found her forgettable. She was doing her damnedest to scrape him from her mind as well. No—she was succeeding. Starting right now.
The only gentlemen who interested her were locals who loved Cressmouth just as much as she did. The Duke of Silkridge simply did not signify.
She wrenched open the door and strode out into the hall.
The only movement was far ahead where a familiar face in a pale indigo gown headed toward the marble stair.
Noelle hurried to catch up.
“Good morning,” she said with genuine warmth as she reached Virginia’s side. “Did you find your duke?”
