All that she was not.
Still, between the two of them, he was in the wrong. He should not have kissed her like that—soft at first, then desperate, as though he wanted more than he dared admit. He should not have shared so much of himself, nor should she have listened as though it meant something.
Her throat tightened, and she pressed her palm to her chest as if she could physically contain the ache.
The worst of it was that she did not believe he was running fromher. He was running from what she made him feel. From the tenderness he did not know how to handle. That ought to have been some comfort, but it only made her stomach twist, because it meant she had not imagined it.
And that meant she had something to lose.
Do not be foolish,she told herself.Do not be foolish.
But the truth hovered anyway, heavy and unwelcome.
I think I am in love with him.
She let out a short, bitter laugh. Of course. Of course, her heart would choose the one man in England who would never allow himself to want her openly.
“Well,” she muttered, forcing steadiness into her voice, “that is very inconvenient.”
By afternoon, she refused to sit in her room and rot. If Benedict wished to pretend that nothing had happened in that locked room, then she would do the same. She would not let him see her wounded. She would not let him win.
Full of nervous energy, Pepita ran for the house as if she had seen prey. That was doubtful, considering how pamperedthe dogs were. They barely had to budge to get anything they wanted.
“Pepita! Come back! Do not tell me we will be going dog hunting again today!”
Lupita barked her assent. Anastasia had to look down at the other Pomeranian, fearing the worst. What if this one wanted to run away as well?
“You two have been a menace lately, do you know that?” she muttered affectionately to the eager-looking dog.
“Don’t you dare, Lupita,” she warned, but kept her voice neutral lest the dog actually try to use that as a reason to flee.
Anastasia followed, a smile tugging at her lips even though she was, admittedly, somewhat exasperated. The dogs had disrupted what should have been a perfectly lovely day.
Fortunately, the Pomeranian was not so fast that she could not figure out which way it went.It went precisely where she did not want to go—to Benedict’s study. The door was ajar. The sight made her palms sweat. She did not often get anxious about such things, but she knew how Benedict was with his rules and order. The oversight meant he had left in a rush.
Anastasia paused. For a moment, she let herself be awash in self-reflection. The first time he had been in this house, she had raised her legs and rested her bare feet up on the mahogany desk. At the moment, though, she realized that she had gained genuine respect for Benedict’s boundaries, even though a part of her still wanted to break them. Tear them apart.
What would make him leave in such haste?
She tiptoed inside, immediately seeing Pepita sitting on the large leather chair. She was panting happily, slobbering all over the material, and also shedding fur everywhere.
“Oh, no. You did not just do that,” Anastasia muttered, dismayed but trying her very best to be calm.
She scooped up the troublesome Pepita and gently set her on the marble floor. She brushed the chair with her bare hands, anything to do away with the evidence of the dog’s intrusion. However, she was painfully aware that the Pomeranian would leave more fur behind, and she worried Benedict would not like it.He hated having his stuff unclean and untidy.
Why should I care about what he wants? It’s just a little fur.
As she cleaned, she found a few pieces of paper held down by a bronze paperweight. She should have left it alone, but she saw the heading:The List.
Her heart pounded. The list? So, his friends were in earnest? Did he actually write down the rules he had set for himself? The tension turned into amusement as she felt a slow smile form on her face.
Anastasia grabbed his quill and began to respond to his list of rigid commands.
Assume the dukedom and restore its finances.
Anastasia: A solid start. It is not every day that one inherits a title and a mountain of debt. Best of luck balancing the books—and your temper.
Secure a suitable marriage to a woman of rank and reason.
