The Duke bent and retrieved it, his fingers brushing against hers as he handed it back.
“Can we talk?” His voice was quiet, careful.
Joan inhaled sharply. “I’m rather busy at the moment, ”
“Please.”
The single word, spoken with such gentle insistence, nearly broke her. Joan stopped packing and leaned against the wall, unable to trust her legs to hold her upright much longer.
The Duke made a gesture, and Joan noticed for the first time that his valet had been waiting just outside. The man bowed and disappeared, leaving them alone.
“You look pale,” the Duke observed. “Are you unwell?”
He’s reading me, Joan realized. He can see right through me, and I can’t let that happen. I can’t let him get close.
“I don’t have time for small talk, Your Grace,” she said harshly, making her voice cold.
Instead of recoiling or showing anger at her tone, the Duke’s expression only softened further. “I’ll have my housekeeper prepare some valerian root and chamomile. For sleep. You look as though you haven’t rested properly.”
Joan looked away, unable to bear the concern in his eyes.
He moved closer and gently took her hands in his. Joan’s breath caught, but she didn’t pull away.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For not telling you that my vision had improved. For maintaining the deception about needing your help with the accounts.”
“It doesn’t matter, ”
“It does matter.” His thumbs stroked across her knuckles. “It was the only way I could think of to keep you coming. To keep you near me. I knew if you realized I could see well enough to manage my own affairs, you would have no reason to visit anymore.”
Joan felt tears threatening again. She tried to pull her hands free, but his grip tightened.
“About Octavia,” he continued, his voice taking on an urgent quality. “I need you to understand. She’s my best friend’s sister.A year ago, a man tried to force himself on her at a social gathering. I intervened. The man challenged me to settle the matter with our fists, but when we met, he brought a pistol instead.”
The Duke’s jaw clenched at the memory. “He wasn’t practiced with firearms. When he tried to shoot me, the weapon misfired, the powder charge was too heavy, and the barrel exploded. Fragments struck my face, damaging my eyes.”
He brought Joan’s hand to his chest, pressing her palm flat against his heart. She could feel it beating, strong and steady.
“I swear to you,” he said, his voice low and intense, “I don’t see Octavia as anything more than a sister. She had a… misguided infatuation, but I’ve made my feelings clear to her. There is nothing romantic between us. There never has been, and there never will be.”
Joan looked up at him, at his scarred face, at his eyes that gazed at her with such raw sincerity, and she believed him. Every word.
It doesn’t matter,she thought with crushing despair.It’s too late.
She gently tried to extract her hands from his grip.
“Your Grace, ”
“Laurence,” he interrupted. “When we’re alone, call me Laurence.”
“Your Grace,” Joan repeated firmly, “I appreciate you clarifying the situation, but there was no need. Our relationship doesn’t require such explanations.”
She finally succeeded in pulling her hands free and took a step back, wrapping her arms around herself like armor.
“Are you still angry with me? About my vision?”
“I’m not angry.”
“Then why are you pushing me away?”
