Joan settled into her seat and opened the first ledger, acutely aware of the silence that filled the room.
Usually, their sessions involved at least some conversation—questions about the accounts, occasional dry observations, even his infuriating teasing. But today, he simply sat there.
Is he avoiding me?Joan wondered, sneaking glances at him as she worked.Does he know that I know about his engagement? Is that why he’s being so distant?
She tried to focus on the numbers before her, but her attention kept drifting to the Duke. He looked particularly severe today,his jaw set in a hard line, his posture rigid. The cat suddenly stirred, stretching and climbing up the Duke’s chest. Its paws reached for the black silk scarf covering his eyes, tiny claws catching in the fabric.
The cat gave one firm tug, loosening the scarf before leaping gracefully from the Duke’s lap onto the desk. It padded over to Joan and settled beside her papers, purring smugly.
“Traitor,” the Duke muttered.
Joan watched as he reached up to adjust the scarf, his fingers working to retie it properly. But the angle was awkward, and his movements grew frustrated as the silk kept slipping through his fingers.
Before she could think better of it, Joan stood and crossed to him.
“Let me help,” she said softly.
The Duke went very still. For a long moment, he didn’t respond, didn’t move. Then, slowly, his hands dropped to his sides.
Joan moved behind his chair, her heart suddenly racing. She was close enough now to catch his scent and to see the way his dark hair curled slightly at his collar.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the silk scarf, untying the knot he’d managed to create. The fabric fell away,and she carefully pulled it free, her fingertips accidentally brushing against his hair.
So soft,she thought, then immediately chastised herself for noticing.
“Will you return to London?” the Duke asked suddenly. “After the scandal dies down?”
Joan’s hands paused in their work. “Yes. If we get a second chance, we will take it.”
“I didn’t take you for a woman who enjoys humiliation.”
Joan frowned, confused. “I beg your pardon?”
“Everyone knows he got a courtesan pregnant. And you still want him.”
Understanding dawned, followed by a soft chuckle she couldn’t quite suppress. Joan positioned the scarf over the Duke’s eyes once more, her fingers gentle as she smoothed it into place.
“I don’t care about your affairs, but I am gracious enough to tell you not to humiliate yourself.”
But his voice had an edge to it that suggested otherwise.
Joan stiffened as she tucked the scarf through his ear.Why did he have to be so insufferable?
“It was my sister who was betrothed to that fool,” she said between her teeth. “And she will never go back to him. Never.”
Joan tied the scarf securely behind his head. “There. All done.”
She straightened and turned to return to her seat, but his hand shot out and caught her wrist, the uninjured one, with unerring accuracy despite his covered eyes.
Joan gasped as he pulled her back. She stumbled slightly, and he guided her down until she was at his level, her hands bracing against the arms of his chair to keep from falling into his lap.
They were so close now. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, and could see the rapid pulse beating at his throat.
“What about you?” His voice was low. “Do you have a man you fancy?”
Joan shook her head, then remembered he couldn’t see clearly. “No. I have none. I fear I am too old.”
His hand moved to her chin, tilting her face up. His thumb traced along her jaw, then hovered over her lips, not quite touching, but close enough that she could feel the heat of his skin.
