Ah, yes.
He cleared his throat. “Are you rested enough to see some of the estate today?”
She gave him a sideways smile. “I am, Your Grace.”
His mouth twitched. “And have you broken your fast?”
Fluttering lashes. “I have.” Her tongue peeked out from between plump vermillion lips. “Your Grace.”
Was she flirting with him?
And then she seemed flustered. “If you’d rather, we could stay here and go over some of those reports.”
He was inclined to believe the best of her, but he could not forget whose daughter she was.
And then she shrugged. “Or not.”
“Tomorrow we will ride.” And then. “Do you ride?”
“Of course. I can change if you’d prefer—“
“What you’re wearing is beautiful.” He did not want her to change. He cleared his throat. “I’d thought to give you a tour of the castle.”
She’d seemed stunned by his compliment but managed to nod. “I would love to learn more about your family. Your history. Saint-Pierre?” She tilted her head with a smile. “I had not even considered my new name until you called me by it yesterday.”
Vincent offered an arm and walked them to the door. He’d not considered that she knew very little about him. About a man she now belonged to. She’d left her home, her family. “You were happy to see your maid?”
She gave him her smiles all too easily. “I was.”
Although his legs were much longer than hers, he hardly had to slow his steps at all. She moved eagerly beside him.
“This is the formal drawing-room.” Vincent opened a door and winced. The furniture appeared faded and worn. “I would suggest refurbishing it or replacing it all together but…” He would not refer to their empty pockets this morning.
“The windows are lovely.” She released his arm to stroll slowly toward the center, just beneath an elaborate but dust-covered chandelier.
A duchess indeed. She stood in the middle of the room—a blaze of color set in a portrait painted using only black and whites. Watching her, he realized that the room was grand. If only…
He waited a moment and then closed the door behind her after they exited to the corridor once again.
“Did you love him?” He wasn’t certain why he’d asked. But she had been betrothed for nearly two decades.
“My father?”
“No. The man who jilted you.” Although he wondered that, too…
But she was shaking her head. “He was my… escape. I didn’t know him, really. I was horribly disappointed to learn he’d married another lady. I had hoped… And then my father made all of us move from where I’d lived all my life. I didn’t understand at the time, but I think perhaps he had no choice. It was as though he was… running.” She pinched her lips together.
“Was it me, in particular, that you did not wish to marry? Is there someone else?”
Her eyes grew wide, as though the thought had just occurred to her. “No.” And then she narrowed her eyes. “What of you?”
He shook his head.
There was no one in particular. He’d not courted any of the local landowners’ daughters because he’d considered himself a sorry prospect, just as he’d told her. Keenan had been the prize.
“Tell me some of what you learned from spying on your father.” He would call it what it was.
She stiffened beside him.
