Honoria and the duke watched her work. It was clear to her younger sister that she was troubled, but neither observer could possibly know why. They simply stared at her in dumb silence.
“Honoria, why don’t you take Wadebridge into the sitting room whilst I tidy up?” She made sure to plaster a smile on her face. “I know His Grace would enjoy hearing more of your childhood tales.”
The duke stood, as if he had just remembered his manners. He brushed crumbs from his shirtfront. “Actually, I prefer to remain in the kitchen.”
She looked at him as if he were daft. “There are dishes to wash, Your Grace. I am afraid I shall be too busy to entertain you.”
Honoria looked atheras ifshewere daft. “They’ll keep, Cass—”
“No, I really am sorry. I cannot tolerate such a mess.”
Wadebridge silenced them both. “Let me help you, Miss Staunton. You’ve gone to such trouble to accommodate me when I all but pushed my way in. The way I see it, I’ve made half this mess. It would be bad manners to leave you with all the tidying up.”
He was a determined suitor, she had to admit. If His Grace wished to roll up his sleeves and scrub dishes, then so be it.
“Very well,” Cassandra said, admitting defeat. “You may finish your tea whilst I sweep.”
Wadebridge sat. Honoria backed from the room, sensing that her presence was unnecessary.
Cassandra retrieved the stiff straw broom from its place in the corner and began to sweep the kitchen floor. She was not a stickler for cleanliness, but she liked to keep active when her strength was cooperating. Too many weeks she had lain abed wishing for nothing more than chores to resume. For blessed responsibilities to distract her from her worries.
“God help you if you ever have servants,” His Grace said at last.
She daren’t look up from her sweeping. “Why do you say that?”
“Because they will work themselves to the bone keeping up with your exacting standards. Truly, I’ve never known a woman to prefer cleaning to spending an afternoon—”
“With you, Your Grace?”
He bristled. “Withanyone,Miss Staunton.” The duke downed the last of his tea in one long, ungentlemanly gulp. “Who would rather sweep than keep company?”
The straw bristles scratched at the flagstones. “I like being busy.”
“Yes, I understand. You dislike being left alone with your thoughts. For a young woman who fancied climbing trees to spy on village lads, this dull celibacy must be torturous indeed.”
At that, she did look up. She glared at him. “How dare you!”
“Miss Staunton, I mean no offense.” Wadebridge put his hands up like a shield. Did he think she meant to strike him? To wallop him with her broom handle? “I have servants to sweep for me. My messes are tidied the moment I turn my back. I’ve no occupation to chase awaymythoughts, so I travel. I visit London and let the vices of town easemyboredom.” He lowered his hands when he saw the coast was clear. “We are alike, you and I.”
“I don’t see how. You are a duke and I am a country miss.”
He sat forward in his chair. “I am lonely. So are you.”
Cassandra resumed her sweeping. By the time she reached the table, she had gathered a pile of debris barely large enough to see. “Feet up, if you please.”
Wadebridge raised his muddy boots and she swiped at the floor beneath him. His crumbs were added to her rubbish pile. She stooped to sweep the last of it before dumping the lot into the dustbin.
He watched her return the broom to its corner. “Would you deny friendship to a lonely man, Miss Staunton?”
She sighed. “Of course not. I don’t mean to be cruel, but I must protect my heart, Your Grace. Haven’t you heard of my poor health? Surely, someone must have told you that I cannot bear children. I cannot marry. I am no use to any man, duke or otherwise.”
His Grace regarded her coldly. “Who has told you that?”
“A doctor, so it is quite true. I’ve known since I was fifteen that I was not meant to be a wife.”
“No, I mean the other—who has told you that you are of no use?”
She steeled her spine. “The doctor.”
