‘That such a majestic creature will never know freedom. She and her friends were designed by the Lord to run wild in the jungle. To hunt and play…’
‘And mate,’ he suggested, which shouldn’t have surprised her.
But he was right. ‘To have more of their kind. To live and die under the open sky. But instead, the poor things are trapped here so that we can gape at them. Fed on dead meat. Even the kitchen cat has more freedom.’ She reached for the handkerchief in her reticule and wiped her eyes.
The Duke was faster, offering her his. ‘You have a tender heart,’ he said.
She glanced around her at Bessie and the other visitors, who seemed to be enjoying the show, and muttered, ‘You must think me quite provincial.’
‘Not at all,’ he replied. ‘To care so deeply about helpless animals is an admirable quality.’ Then, he smiled. ‘I knew a girl very like you once, willing to walk into the den of a miserable beast and ease his suffering.’
‘I am not that brave,’ she said, glancing back at the leopardess. ‘I do not think I can bear this a moment longer.’
‘Let me take you out of here,’ he said, and turned to Bessie. ‘There is no reason you cannot stay and enjoy the sights. I will not take your mistress any farther than the courtyard.’
The girl gave him a doubtful look, which lessened when he produced a gold coin from his pocket. ‘I mean no harm. I simply do not wish her to be unhappy.’
She hesitated a moment longer, then took the coin and turned her back on them.
Cassie looked helplessly at her, knowing that she should refuse. But at the moment, she was tired of London and all the foolishness connected to it. She needed air as much as these cats did.
For all she knew, the Duke was no more interested in her future happiness than the rest of the men she’d met. But he was at least willing to help her right now. So she took his arm and let him lead her down the stairs and out into the open air outside the tower.
Once there, he led her along one of the walls to a bench, sitting down beside her as she turned her face up to catch the sun so her tears would dry. It was better here, but not as nice as her little house in St John’s Wood. And definitely not the same as the country had been. ‘The air is not so fresh as it is at home,’ she said with a sigh.
‘The misfortunes of living in a city,’ he agreed. ‘I do not often go home to my estate. But I must admit, it is very peaceful there. Very clean.’
She glanced over at him. ‘Why do you not spend more time there?’
‘It is lonely as well,’ he admitted. ‘My grandmother died over a year ago and I have no family left. I do not feel it so much when I am in town. But when I go back to the manor? I am alone with my memories and conscious of the loss.’ His smile had disappeared and he stared down at his feet, scuffing at the dirt with the toe of his boot as if trying to erase the past.
He was so rarely serious that the change surprised her. But the way he looked now felt raw and real. He was in pain, just as he’d been when she’d nursed him and did not have the strength to conceal his intentions with a wink and a grin.
He looked to her again, and his smile returned, though it was sadder than before. ‘Now you are looking at me as you did those cats. I am not as hopeless as that.’ Then he added, ‘At least, not anymore.’
Which meant he had been hopeless once. Or perhaps more than once. She thought of what Portia had told her after the rout. ‘May I ask you a question?’ she said, trying to catch his eye.
He looked up, puzzled, then said, ‘Whatever you wish.’
‘When you were at Oxford, what was your favourite subject?’
The question seemed to surprise him. Then, he looked down again as if embarrassed. ‘I did not actually complete my course of studies.’
‘So I have been told,’ she said, dipping her head, as well.
When he looked up, his usual sardonic smile had returned. ‘It was decided that, if I meant to study barmaids and dice and general drunkenness, I would be better off doing graduate studies in London.’
‘An interesting way to describe expulsion,’ she said, and waited for a better answer.
‘I had left the university in spirit long before I was asked to physically depart. It hardly seems fair to blame the dean for coming late to a conclusion that I had already arrived at.’ He gave a small nod as if hoping that it would put an end to the questions about the past.
‘But I am interested in the time before you left. Before the barmaids and the dice and the drinking. I assume there was a time when you took your studies seriously.’
‘Why would you think such a thing?’ he asked, giving her an intense look meant to make her squirm just as her questions seemed to affect him.
She stared back at him, struggling to hide her discomfort. ‘Why would I not? I have heard that it was not until your final year that you were sent down. It stands to reason that you did something with the years before.’
‘You have heard?’ he said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Why, Miss Fisk, have you been asking after me?’
