“Perhaps not,” Anna said with a small smile, motioning at the sculpture set on the plinth before them, “but you must admit that you havefeltthings.”
Thalia opened her mouth to object, then closed it again. Now she looked at it objectively, the young man perched contemplatively on a rock, which was attached seamlessly to the plinth, bore acertain resemblance to the Duke. It was in the hard line of his jaw and the rather unforgiving light in his eyes.
How had she captured that?
Her hands stilled as she assessed the piece all over again. “Oh no,” she said.
“Oh yes,” Anna said.
“But—”
She didn’t even like him. Seeing him at the club had, admittedly, made her wonder a little about him. Why did he do such things, at least, and why did no one there seem to recognize him as being a peer of the realm?
He had seemed so shocked by her genuine admiration.
“I admit I find him attractive,” she said after a long moment, when it became evident that she had to saysomething. What could justify this? “But I’m hardly a foolish girl mooning after a man she can’t have. This doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“What it means is that you like him,” Anna said. “Denying it is pointless now. Look at the way you’ve sculpted this statue’s arms.”
“Those don’t belong to the Duke,” Thalia said instinctively.
“No? Then whose armsarethey?”
“No one’s!”
Anna sent her a pitying look. Thaliahadseen arms before, and she had studied anatomy in order to be able to make her sculptures, but now, as she looked at the sculpture more closely, she could identify that this unnamed man had the Duke’s body. His shoulders, his arms—she had seen them so very clearly. The Duke’s arms bunched just like this when he had his fists raised before him.
Heat stained her cheeks, and she had the absurd urge to throw the sculpture at the wall.
“He’s truly not so bad,” Anna said sympathetically, patting Thalia’s shoulder even though her eyes brimmed with laughter. “If you get to know him better, perhaps you will think so too.”
“I don’t know what you hope will come from this.” Thalia dashed her fingers in the water, washing away the wooden splinters.
She hadn’t told Anna about the kiss, and it was a good thing, too, or Anna would have become ridiculously convinced that they would marry.
As though one kiss was the foundation on which to build a life together.
“We cannot all have your luck,” she added. “Be happy with your choice of husband and leave me to my devices.”
Anna’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Well, then, I hope your devices will shortly include the Duke.”
Thalia had a nasty suspicion they would.
CHAPTER 9
Maxwell refrained from the urge to glance over to where Lydia was standing in a gaggle of her admirers. The last few nights, he had even stopped himself from asking anything other than whether she had enjoyed herself.
The answer had invariably beenyes.
A figure sank into the chair beside him. When he glanced up, he saw Thalia, gazing appraisingly over at Lydia the same way he was trying not to.
“It must be killing you inside,” she said with a slight grin while relaxing into the chair.
Her dark curls fell about her face in a somewhat careless disarray, as though she had been running her hand through them, and he found the sight obnoxiously charming.
“What must be?”
“Her popularity.” She tapped a fingernail against the arm of her chair. “Does she know about the boxing?”
