“Thank you, Your Grace,” she managed stiffly.
She reached for the ledger, intending to resume her work and hopefully salvage some dignity from this mortifying encounter. But the Duke’s voice stopped her.
“I am a fair man, Miss Sinclair. You may rest for a while. At least until the medicine begins to work.”
Joan settled back in her chair, cradling her wrist, which did, admittedly, already hurt slightly less, and stroking Archimedes with her good hand. Her mind churned with worries about the school, about the empty hall waiting for students who refused to come, about her failure to convince the villagers of her sincerity.
“You should mind your business more carefully,” the Duke said into the silence. “It would save you from such injuries.”
Joan looked up, surprised by the comment. “Your Grace, would you abandon a child stuck in a tree?”
He wouldn’t, she thought with sudden certainty.As cold as he pretends to be, I don’t believe he would leave a child in danger.
The Duke was silent for a moment. “How is your school progressing?”
The question caught Joan off guard. She hadn’t expected him to ask, she hadn’t thought he would care.
“Not very well,” she admitted quietly. “Only one child has attended so far. My friend's son. The villagers don’t seem to trust me. My friend says it’s not personal. People are just wary.”
“Yourfriendis quite perceptive.” The Duke placed unusual emphasis on the word ‘friend,’ and Joan couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or something else.
“Don’t try so hard,” the Duke continued. “It’s nothing personal, as you said. Hardworking folks are naturally suspicious of outsiders.”
He leaned forward slightly, his fingers drumming idly on the desk. “You could establish a school in London, you know. It would be less acceptable for a woman to run such a businessthere, thetonwould have opinions about it, but I suspect with your determination, you could win them over eventually.”
Joan smiled softly, though the expression held more sadness than joy. “I dare not do that in London, Your Grace. My brother’s reputation has already suffered considerably. Opening a school, taking on such an unconventional role, would only make matters worse. And it would affect my younger sister even more, making her prospects for marriage even bleaker than they already are.”
The Duke tilted his head, his unfocused gaze somehow still managing to feel piercing. “Miss Sinclair, you have a tendency to worry about everyone but yourself. Do you realize that?”
“I lost my parents when I was twelve,” she said, her voice soft. “My brother was fourteen, and my sister was only eight. We had to raise ourselves, in many ways.”
She looked down at Archimedes, who had curled into a ball in her lap. “I suppose I grew accustomed to putting their needs before my own. It became… natural. I don’t know how to be any other way.”
Joan risked a glance at the Duke and found his expression was still the same.
“What about your family, Your Grace?” she asked before she could think better of it. “Were you close with your parents?”
The Duke’s expression shuttered immediately. His jaw clenched, and for a moment Joan was certain she had overstepped badly, she had asked something she had no right to ask.
But then, surprisingly, he answered.
“Nothing special,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “They were a normal family. My parents doted on me, loved me as parents do. But they died early.”
“I’m sorry,” Joan said softly.
The Duke’s mouth twisted. “Why? Your parents died too, did they not?”
“Yes, but I had my siblings. We grieved together, supported each other.” Joan felt her throat tighten with unexpected emotion. “You were all alone. That must have been terribly hard.”
Without thinking, she reached across the desk with her good hand, her fingers stopping just short of his.
It must have been so lonely,she thought.
Her fingers moved the last few inches, coming to rest gently on the back of his hand. The Duke went very still.
Joan became acutely aware of how close they were, of the way his thumb had shifted, almost imperceptibly, to rest against theside of her palm. On the way her own pulse hammered in her throat. She tried to pull her hands away but he caught it and he leaned forward slightly.
“Your Grace.”
