They looked at each other across the table. Catherine felt her breath constrict. When they talked of their search, it was easier to bear the tension that crackled between them but, when the subject dropped, it became much more difficult to ignore. She looked at his mouth, trying to read the emotion there, and she wasn’t sure—couldn’t be sure—but she suspected he wasn’t thinking about their journey any longer, either.
The duke broke eye contact and reached into his waistcoat, drawing out a small square of paper. “Before we leave, I thought you should know I received this missive this morning.”
He handed the small letter across the table. Had some old piece of scandal resurfaced? Some bit of unpleasant, nasty gossip? She grabbed the letter and was surprised to see familiar, crooked handwriting:
Dear DUKE of EDINTON, YOUR GRACE,
Good DAY, SIR.
I, SIR ARIEL WORTHINTON WETHERSBY, write to you concerning MISS CATHRINE Forster. SHE HAS AGREED TO HELP YOU WITH YOUR HISTORYS, no less and NO MORE. MAKE NO MISTAKE. CATHRINE belongs to the HOUSE of WETHERSBY and, if you hurt her or do anything IMPROPER, I will meet you at DAWN.
farewell
SIR ARIEL W WETHERSBY, BART.
Looking at the note, Catherine felt the desire to laugh and cry at the same time. Tears pushed at the corners of her eyes and she smiled hard into her lap. She pushed the note back across the table wordlessly, finding that she couldn’t speak.
“It is not every day that I am threatened by a ten-year-old.”
When she looked up, John was not smiling but his mouth almost looked like it wanted to. Even that bit of softness enhanced his countenance to dangerous effect. His manifest beauty knocked her doubly off-kilter.
She found her voice. “Ariel must have had Melinda, our maid, help him with the postage and the spelling. I will write him and say you received his letter and that he needn’t worry about me.”
“As a grown man, I am used to handling my own correspondence. I have prepared this response and wanted to make sure you approved.”
He slid a second paper across the table. She read the message:
Dear Sir Ariel W. Wethersby,
I hereby promise to protect Miss Catherine Forster and to make sure no harm befalls her in my service. This is my pledge of honor. If I do anything to displease Miss Forster, I promise to submit myself to you, Sir Ariel, at dawn, for a swift execution.
I remain, humbly yours,
John Breminster, Duke of Edington
Catherine didn’t like this man—or at least that is what she told herself whenever the sight of his chiseled features made her wish for more of what they had shared seven years ago—but even she could see this letter was incredibly kind.
“Thank you.” She pushed the note back across the table.
He looked at her, that softer expression still playing around the edges of his lips.
God, she still couldn’t stop staring at his mouth—both to try and read his emotions and to better imagine it on her.
Blast.She needed to rid herself of such thoughts.
He broke the moment, moving to stand.
“I have to attend to a few things before our departure. My butler will see to any needs you may have.”
“I do have one request.” He looked at her, his eyes wide, as if he wanted to please her. She was so surprised by the open solicitude on his face that she forgot what she had been saying.
“Yes?”
“I was wondering if I could take a few of these books on our journey.” She pointed to the history books on the shelf opposite his desk. “They are rare volumes, not easy to obtain, and I have been hoping to read them for ages.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Do you imagine we’ll have much time for reading?”
In his mouth, the words sounded like a seduction.
