That was the history that hung between them now that they found themselves alone. He didn’t blame her for heaping scorn and anger upon his head. From her perspective, he deserved it. So be it. For here was the thing: even if he could, he wouldn’t go back three years and change his actions that night.
He’d kept her safe.
Even if she didn’t know it.
And here was the other thing: he didn’t want her to know. For that knowledge might influence her to change the way she navigated the world.
And he didn’t want her to be ruled by fear.
He wanted a world where Lady Delilah Windermere could be wild and free.
“Are you determined to ruin every last good thing that I do for myself?” she asked with simmering fury.
“I’ll answer that question after you’ve answered one for me,” he said equably.
Her eyes the blue of the Arctic Sea went narrow and wary. “What is it?”
“What areyoudoinghere?”
Her mouth snapped shut.
It was a rare thing to silence a Windermere, but he could take no joy from it, for he wanted the answer.
An actress in a traveling theater company… What in the blazes was Lady Delilah Windermere playing at?
*
Ravensworth…
Here.
Delilah’s brow furrowed until it hurt, and she gave her head a shake, as if he were a figment of the imagination that could be easily dispelled.
But, no, there he stood, all six feet, two or three inches of solid duke crouched in the low, narrow doorway of the caravan that she shared with Flora and Dorie, implacable.
This man with his dirty blond hair poking from beneath a slouch hat and eyes the gold of an evening sunset on a field of wheat was handsome in the devastating way that made the breath catch in ladies’ chests and set fans fluttering in his wake was no concern of Delilah’s. He never had been. For while she could observe his handsomeness, she’d never been compelled to consider it directly.
It was that superior attitude of his—like he knew what was good for people better than they knew for themselves.
Quite simply, he wasverymuch a duke.
And Delilah had no use for dukes. She knew her mind. She knew what she wanted. And yet…
How was it that every time she pursued her wants and desires this…duke!…arrived to plant himself in the way? First, Eton, and now Ye Olde Albion Players.
Truly, she’d just experienced the best two months of her life.
A wave of anger surged. Well, she simply wouldn’t allow Ravensworth to muck this up for her. She was a full-fledged woman of four and twenty years who was capable of forging her own path.
And this duke would know it.
But first… “You know Flora and Dorie think we…” Delilah felt a hot blush rise to the rhythm of her racing heart. It was simply a sentence she couldn’t finish.
“Aye,” he said, utterly unbothered.
That bit of business out of the way, the pressing question flew from her mouth. “Ravensworth, what are you doing here?” She wasn’t about to allow him to backfoot her.
He shrugged. “Enjoying a night’s entertainment.”
