“Your Grace,” she said, looking away.
She heard the rustling of clothes, and she realized that the Duke was doing what he did best. And that was invading her personal space. In a few strides, he was right in front of her again. Only this time, they weren’t in his study.
“Why were you crying?”
“Very astute question,” Prim said and straightened her back.
“Miss Jenkins,” he demanded.
Prim felt the will leaving her body. She just needed a moment to catch her breath, and now here he was, a stark reminder that she was being deprived of oxygen as the walls closed in. She took one wide step away from him, back to the ballroom. Somehow, dealing with all the malevolent debutants was so much easier than dealing with him.
She did not get the chance. His strong fingers wrapped around her wrist and pulled her as he opened the door to the room closer to them.
“Your Grace, we-”
He closed the door and pushed her against it. One hand held the door closed as he looked at her with a dangerous glint in his eye.
“This is most inappropriate!” Prim protested.
“You are right,” he mused. “We wouldn’t want any gossip sheet catching our names on ink.”
“I am happy you are amused.”
“I assure you I am not.”
“So, this is out of malice.”
“I found you in tears, Miss Jenkins,” he said.
“And somehow you took that as a summons to stand indecently near rather than permit me a moment’s privacy?”
“Would it be better to let you cry?”
“Infinitely better than keeping me in a broom closet.”
“It’s a study, he corrected.”
“Irrelevant,” she said.
“I disagree.”
“As a hobby, it would seem.””
“Your Grace, open the door.”
“So, you can run away again?”
“I can walk if that makes you feel better.”
“You do not get to run, walk or skip carelessly.”
“Your Grace, this has stopped being entertaining. Or useful.”
“Useful? This is what it’s important, am I correct?”
“Less judgmental tone when you are being the unreasonable party is common courtesy,” she ground.
“You cry alone and run away, and I am being unreasonable.”
