At each stop, he arranged a guard while he procured them a private parlor and adjoining bedchambers—one for herself and the children, the other, for himself. Then, he’d return to guide them all inside, where she’d invariably find a table already laid with tea prepared in her preferred manner as well as the children’s favorite foods. And every night, he spent an hour with the children recounting some tale woven to extol bravery, making the story come alive with excited tones and dramatic flair.
They’d followed him on fantastical, fictional journeys through grave depths of untold anxiety to the heights of glorious, heroic triumph. When the children’s eyes were happily drooping, he'd reassure them all in his deep, ducal voice that they were perfectly safe and that none of them should worry while he kept watch.
Heady prospect.
His words never failed to work their magic—all three of them had fallen under his spell. When she’d heard one maid sigh and whisper to another that such a nonpareil she’d never seen, Hera found herself in full—if begrudging—agreement.
But when he’d taken his leave each night, he’d done so without betraying even a hint of desire for her company.
By the time they’d entered Hevenhyll Castle’s extensive grounds, she was frustrated, even though the children’s natural temperaments had been restored, and they had nothing to speak of but the wonders that awaited. For them, she was both happy and relieved. For herself, she was conscious of having lost a vibrancy, an exhilaration, she hadn’t even been aware had taken hold, until she was bereft.
Had she imagined his interest? Or had he simply changed his mind?
Because if the duke had come to his senses, and decided he no longer wished to make her the object of his seduction (for what else could he possibly have in mind?), sheshouldbe thanking God for her good fortune. Never in her life did she have a better reason to avoid scandal. And she could never tell him about Annis.
A proper distance was required.
...Only she would not have minded if the distance were not soexceedinglyproper.
Shemissedhim.
Which was absurd. He wasright there, cantering along beside the carriage not ten feet away. She turned her attention to the slack-shouldered boy sitting in the backwards facing bench.
Once they’d entered Hurtheven’s grounds, Fee abandoned her first-to-ride-the-curricle plan for a better one. She cajoled the duke into allowing her to ride atop the box, arguing that she might, as they were so close to the castle and wouldn’t possibly be seen by anyone who’d cause a fuss. Poor Delmare had been left to make do with Hera’s company.
“Please stop kicking your heels against the box, love.”
Delmare obliged without raising his head.
“Perhaps,” she suggested, “you might look outside the window? I hear there are deer in the park.”
He lifted his head, suddenly alert, and then begged a sheet of paper. She retrieved one from the writing box, which he promptly rolled into a tube and placed against his eye. He scooched over to the window, and, peering through his ‘telescope’ he swept his gaze across the land.
“Whatareyou doing?”
“Keeping an eye out for lions...and such.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I apologize. Wasn’t the thing to just sit around coddled up like alady. A man must anticipate disaster.”
“Ah.” Sothat’swhat had been bothering him. She nodded understandingly. “I appreciate your vigilance.”
Graciously, he inclined his head. “Uncle Heven told me I must always be vigilant.”
“I suspected as much.” She slanted a gaze at Hurtheven’s figure, admirably situated atop his horse. “What else did he tell you?”
“That we are always perfectly safe in his care.” Delmare looked over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “None but a Canterbury tale, I said.Youled us away from the lion, even if he did help finish the matter.” He grabbed the strap and set a knee on the bench beside her before adding in a whisper. “And I don’t believe for a second that we wereneverin danger.”
“And how did the duke reply to your challenge?”
Delmare pursed his lips. “Well, first he said, ‘wasn’t I just the picture of my father!’—though I don’t know what my looking like Papa has anything to do with anything—andthenhe told me he would never lie to me and that I should take care with my phrasing because an insult between men was no small matter.”
“Did he?!” She asked, incensed.
“Yes. Butthenhe agreed that his assertion of safety could be called into question, and so, for my sake, he’d provide claridation.”
“Clarification?” Hera suggested.
Delmare frowned. “That’s what I said.”
“Do go on.”
