“Won’t you sit?” he asked before taking a seat himself.
He’d left her little choice—to remain standing was to disrespect his station. Although if society’s rules governed this situation, she’d be heartily astonished. She settled onto the couch by his side, their knees mere inches apart.
“You are correct. Your person is not,” he paused, “at this moment, in danger.”
Then why was her heart beating like a rabbit hiding in brush? “I am relieved, Your Grace.”
His right eyebrow shot up. “Sarcasm does not become you.”
She narrowed her eyes. “If my tone disrespects, you might look to your actions.”
He made a sound of disappointment. “Have I accosted you?”
She glanced sideways at his hands. “No.”
“Treated you poorly?”
“I would define undeserved imprisonment as poor treatment.”
“You are free to go.” He stretched out a leg. “If that is your wish.”
“You locked the door.”
“To keep others out, not to keep you in.”
Her gaze flicked to the door. “Is there a reason you wished to speak with me?”
“I, too, appreciate economy of conversation. I shall come to my point. As a gift to you, on behalf of a grateful nation, I have paid your husband’s debt to Marie.”
It was a good thing she had been clenching her teeth, else her jaw would have dropped.
“—And the apothecary—”
She sucked in. That was Aunt Hester’s debt!
“—And the jeweler—”
“Why?” The question burst forth.
“Charity.” He paused to flick a non-existent piece of lint from his trousers. “Or incentive...whichever you prefer.”
She stood.
“Please.” It was a command—
“Please?”—a command she did not heed.
“I’ve thought of little but you since...” he stopped himself.
“Have you?” So strange to be looking down at a duke. “I don’t see why. I am entirely forgettable.”
“I’ve gone through great trouble to ensure we met again.”
She frowned. “Do you expect me to be flattered?”
“Some would be.”
She snorted. “I doubt your understanding of the fairer sex.”
