A deuced duchess. Devil take him now for the urge he had to tuck her closer up beside him.
Not in a million years would he ever have guessed he’d be a guest in her home. Not in a billion years would he have guessed he’d escort her through a romantic garden on a frigid winter afternoon.
The grief, the loss. It rolled off of her in giant, tangible waves.
She hid much of it behind a cool and dignified demeanor, but he felt it nonetheless. She’d fade away into despair if she didn’t shake this gloom. And that would be a shame.
He stole a sideways glance at the woman draped in black and caught his breath.
Not that she appeared excessively pretty. Attractive, yes. But so much more.
Long elegant neck. Despite the sorrow wearing her down, she held her head proudly. Never in his life had he met a woman with more dignity. He vaguely mused that royalty could learn a thing or two from her as he steered them both around a broken branch on the trail. It must have fallen during the last rainstorm.
She hadn’t responded to his taunt. In fact, she’d barely spoken to him at all. Why would she stoop to engage in meaningful conversation with a man born for labor?
Why indeed?
“Don’t you like the child?” He’d wondered this on more than one occasion now. For it was odd that, as the child’s grandmother, she ignored opportunities to hold the baby. She often made excuses to leave the room on the few occasions when the nursemaid presented her.
“I love the child.” She spoke abruptly. “How could I not?”
Her statement lacked conviction. She didn’tsoundlike a doting grandmother. Her gaze evaded his, but she couldn’t hide the hint of disappointment hovering in the back of her eyes.
Perhaps the duchess resented the hasty marriage of her daughter-in-law to the distant heir. From what Thomas could recall of his daughter’s words, her friend, Sophia, had found herself with child upon the death of her young husband. And then quickly remarried the current duke.
And even a fool could see that the newly married couple held affection for one another. Almost as though it had been a love match.
“You resent Prescott’s swift marriage to Lord Harold’s widow?” He’d prod this duchess to assuage his curiosity. He had nothing to lose by doing so.
The fascinating woman beside him shook her head and closed her eyes. God, but she carried a subtle beauty to her…
“I do not. Of course, I do not.” Her demeanor cracked ever so slightly. “Dev is my nephew. His loss has been great as well. I wish him nothing but happiness.” Ah yes. Prescott had lost his father that day.
“And her grace? Little Harriette’s mother?”
“Sophia is a lovely and kind-hearted girl.”
Thomas rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Then why would she avoid the baby? Why wouldn’t she find joy in her grandchild? He was a man of facts and figures and something about this woman wasn’t adding up.
A breeze danced through the trees overhead, shaking what would likely be the last of the season’s leaves onto the path in front of them.
“It looks as though it might rain.” Her cultured voice sounded colder than the temperature as she extracted her hand from his arm. “I don’t wish to be caught in a storm.”
But Thomas would not allow her to return to her separate residence unchaperoned. He casually clasped his hands behind his back and nodded. “Lead the way, your grace. I’ll not leave you to your own devices.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Even in her diminished state, the woman commanded better than any manager he’d ever hired. “I came out alone, I can just as easily return.”
But Thomas was no manager. And he was no servant or merchant to be dismissed so easily by even a duchess.
By God, he was one of the wealthiest men in England. He didn’t dwell on this fact and never spoke it aloud. He’d toiled most of his life, taken calculated risks with everything he owned, but he knew it could all be gone in the blink of an eye. He’d never take security and comfort for granted.
“After you, your grace.” He indicated the path leading toward the dowager house on the edge of the property.
As she shook her head and marched off in front of him, he almost thought she’d rolled her eyes.
But that was impossible. Duchesses never rolled their eyes.
Especially not this one.
