“Your Grace,” she said under her breath. “Perhaps, at some later time, you would be so kind as to warn Lord Delmare that his words convey an impression he does not intend?”
There. That hadn’t been quite as difficult as she’d anticipated. And yet, she could feel the blush creeping slowly up her neck.
“I’m at your service, of course.” He inclined his head.
“Of course?” she repeated questioningly.
Her awareness of the activity around them faded as she held his gaze. The late-day sun hung low in the sky, casting his features aglow. Fine lines sketched his forehead and light creasing marred the edges of his eyes. Yes, he’d known great pain. But he’d laughed often, too.
Fleetingly, she wished he would confide in her those secrets he’d told Delmare he kept close. And then, perhaps, she could confide hers as well. Maybe he—like the duchess—was the rare sort of person who placed understanding of their fellow man’s flaws over righteous condemnation.
She blushed even further when she realized she’d been studying him as if he were a still life arrangement she intended to capture in paint.
“I presume the servants are waiting in the hall to welcome you back?” she asked.
“No doubt,” he replied. “But before we go in, tell me...do you like what you’ve seen of my home so far?”
She blinked. Then, she turned wonderingly in a circle, taking in the overwhelming majesty of the place. “Does onelikea castle? The intended effect, I think, is one of menace.”
“Menace,” he echoed. His brows lifted in a hopeful manner. “You wouldn’t happen to have a penchant for menace, would you?”
She widened her eyes. “Not in the least!”
“Alas.” He observed her with a strange, compelling glimmer in his gaze. “...Although, on reflection, a complication rather than an impasse. Or even”—he closed one eye—“possibly even a depth as yet unfathomed?” He hummed thoughtfully. “What additional, valiant facets would a fixed, approving regard uncover, I wonder?”
She drew her brows together. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
“No?” he asked lightly. “You’ll catch up eventually.” He straightened his clothes, steeled his back. “I trust I am presentable?”
“You know you are,” she replied dryly.
“Certainly. I just wanted to make sureyounoticed.” He winked before turning and entering his home. The cheer that followed echoed all the way into the courtyard.
She shook her head slowly in exasperated disbelief.
While she could not fully decipher a word of what he’d just said, especially what he’d meant when he’d saida depth unfathomed, with him, she understood she was far, far out ofherdepth.
And, given her surroundings, the situation could only get worse.
* * *
After having hadthe talk, Hurtheven relinquished Delmare to the stables, where the boy was greeted by the head groom with great enthusiasm and promptly given a brush. He left Delmare happily tending the pony he had obtained for him the prior year, all-the-while chattering away about their journey.
Delmare had scoffed when Hurtheven told him he should not have offered to be Mrs. Montrose’s protector, as that was a phrase reserved for affairs of the heart and something he would not be able to fully comprehend until he was older.
Delmare had then blushed deeply and rather belligerently inquired if kissing in the lane constituted anaffair of the heart.
The kissing ofhands,Hurtheven had informed him sharply, didnotcount.
Hurtheven wandered back toward the hall, wondering if the boy had developed a slighttendrefor his nurse. If so, he sympathized.
He certainly had, after all.
He’d had to keep himself at a distance while on the road, but now that they were settled at Hevenhyll, he fully intended to set about engaging Mrs. Montrose’s affections.
Mrs. Montrose.
Was that even her name? Odd how he could feel so deeply drawn to someone whose family name could be a fiction, and whose Christian name he did not even know.
