Arthur looked up, his chin resting in his palms. “Did they have to wear those itchy white sheets while they talked?”
“Togas, Lord Arthur. And yes, it was the dress of a citizen,” she replied with a smile. “It required a great deal of disciplineto wear them properly while debating, as you can imagine! I am sure your uncle could tell you more about how the modern House of Lords shares many of the same traditions of debate and?—”
She stopped, but it was too late. The mention of Ambrose acted like a spark to dry kindling, flying off her tongue before she knew it.
“Uncle Ambrose knows about the Romans?” Philip asked, his eyes widened. “He does have all those statues in the hall!”
“He probablywasa Roman,” Arthur shouted, already jumping up from his chair. “He’s grumpy enough to be a centurion! Come on, Brother! Let’s go ask him!”
“Arthur! Philip! No! He is working!” Imogen cried, dropping her chalk.
But the twins were already a blur of velvet and enthusiasm. They bolted through the schoolroom door, their boots thundering down the corridor.
Imogen gathered her skirts and gave chase, her heart leaping into her throat at the thought of seeing the Duke.
She knew he had been sequestered in his study all morning with the door firmly shut. She had taken it as his universal sign fordo not disturb.
She reached the ground floor just as the heavy oak doors to the study swung open. She skidded to a halt in the doorway, breathless and flushed, her hair beginning to escape its pins. Despite her earlier protestations, she was desperate to see his golden-brown hair and sharp blue eyes.
Imogen crossed the threshold, and a small gasp escaped her pursed lips as her hands flew to her cheeks.
The scene was one of chaos.
Arthur was hanging off the arm of the Duke’s leather chair, while Philip was pointing excitedly at a bust of Hadrian on the mantel.
Ambrose sat behind his desk, a quill frozen in his large hand, looking like a man who had just been ambushed by a small, but very loud army. He looked up, and his gaze collided with Imogen’s.
The air in the room instantly thickened. Her chest grew heavy, and her breath tight. It was the first time they had been in the same room for more than a fleeting second since sharing a kiss. They had done excellent work avoiding each other. Until now. Imogen felt the familiar, magnetic pull of his presence, a sensation that made her skin hum and her hair stand on end, somehow in the most alluring way.
“Your Grace,” she finally said with a small curtsy before clutching the doorframe for support. “I am so incredibly sorry! They moved like lightning. I told them you were busy. We did not mean to disturb you. Right, My Lords?”
Ambrose didn’t look annoyed as his eyes continued to search hers. If anything, he looked relieved for the distraction, though his expression remained carefully guarded. He stood up slowly, his tall frame dominating the space as it took everything Imogen had not to charge him at once.
“It is quite all right, Miss Lewis. It seems I am being recruited for a lecture on the Republic.”
“She said that you are like a Senator or something!” Arthur chimed in. “Just like the heroes of Ancient Rome!”
Ambrose’s lips quirked into the ghost of a smile, but his eyes stayed on Imogen. “Is that what you told them?”
“Oh no, Your Grace! I only… I mentioned the House of Lords,” she managed, her voice still breathy from sprinting across the townhouse. She felt a stray lock of hair tickle her cheek. She tucked it back with a trembling hand.
“A fair comparison,” Ambrose said. He looked at the boys, then back at her. “What exactly were you covering in your lessons today, Miss Lewis?”
I like the way my name sounds on his tongue.
“The transition from the Republic to the Empire,” she replied as she brought her thoughts back to the present moment, regaining some of her professional composure. “The importance of civic duty versus personal ambition. The power of words.”
Ambrose studied her for a long moment, the intensity of his stare making her pulse thrum in her ears more than her jaunt. He reached out, his hand hovering over a shelf of leather-bound volumes. He pulled down two thick books, one on Roman law and another filled with detailed sketches of the Forum. He laid them out on his desk as the boys ran over to look at the pages.
“Perhaps a visual aid would assist,” he said. He stepped around the desk, his presence on the other side somehow closing the distance between them. “Shall we?”
“Oh, yes! These are magnificent, Uncle Ambrose,” Arthur said as he grabbed one of the tomes, then handed the other to Philip.
“Can we look at them together?” Philip asked with a small smile, as Imogen watched Ambrose’s façade crack, and a real smile crossed his full lips.
“Lead the way, boys.”
The walk back to the schoolroom felt impossibly long as Imogen tried to remain even-keeled. She walked slightly ahead with the boys, acutely aware of the heavy, rhythmic tread of Ambrose’s boots behind her as she almost involuntarily swayed her hips.
