“The duchess’s chamber,” the maid said, briefly lifting her gaze to Bernadette’s in the mirror.
Now heat flooded her cheeks and she let her gaze move around the room. Thiswasthe duchess’s chamber, attached to Theo’s room through a small hallway. Since there was no duchess, the furniture was covered in white sheets, save for the chair she was sitting in and the mirror they were using to ready her.
Still, it was an exceptional chamber. The walls were painted a pretty pale blue, the window looked out over the garden, with a perfect view of a cluster of rose bushes that would bloom once winter was over.
She wouldn’t see them, of course. Not from this vantage point. Whatever increased connection she felt between herself and Theo was born out of his fear for her accident. It would fade and they would end the affair as planned. He would go back to being her friend, perhaps a better one than before.
She would find a way to look back on this time they’d spent together with pleasure rather than sadness or regret or wistful wishes that couldn’t come true.
“Lightmorrow is kind enough to allow me to use it,” she said, arching a brow in challenge to her maid.
Molly was wise enough to return her attention to her work, but Bernadette wasn’t under any illusion that the servants of both their houses weren’t talking about the time she’d spent with Theo. When she hadn’t come home last night and Molly had been called here to attend her, there had to be more than a few raised brows.
Not so long ago she’d been worried about that. Now it was harder to care because she had no intention of giving Theo up. Not yet. Consequences be damned, it seemed.
So she fought to remain calm and unaffected by anything around her. Something that flew out the window when the door to the chamber opened and Theo stepped in.
“Good morning, Molly,” he said with a nod for her maid.
Molly seemed surprised that he knew her name, and Bernadette couldn’t blame her. Why did he? She’d used it in front of him, of course, but no man she’d ever known, even her husband, cared enough to remember her servants.
“Are you almost ready, Etta?” he asked.
Her cheeks grew hotter at his use of their familiar nickname in front of her servant, but she nodded regardless. “Yes, we’re just finishing up.”
“You look lovely,” he said softly, and the way his gaze flowed over her in a slow perusal made every nerve in her body fire like he was touching her. “I’ll have my carriage readied.”
He backed from the room with a slight nod. She drew in a sharp breath when he was gone but managed to finish her readying and came downstairs. Kimball was waiting for her. The older butler smiled gently as she reached him.
“The carriage is ready, Your Grace,” he said. “And the duke has asked that you wait for him in the vehicle. He will be out momentarily.”
She wrinkled her brow but didn’t argue. She stepped into the cool air, bundling her wrap a bit tighter around her as one of Theo’s footmen helped her into the carriage. She shivered as she looked at the place where she’d sat last night, remembering the way Theo had all but collapsed into her.
In a moment, he bounded in across from her with a wide smile, shut the door and tapped on the wall for them to move.
“You look very pleased with yourself,” she said, not adding that he also looked incredibly handsome. It was very unfair how good-looking he was with his perfectly fitted clothing, his thick, slightly tousled hair and his bright blue eyes.
“I am,” he said. “I have arranged for Flora and Roarke to join us tonight for supper.”
She drew back slightly. “You did?”
“Yes, I knew they’d want to see you after last night’s fright. And that you’d want to see them. They’ll join us at eight.”
“At your home?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes, I thought that best, since I assume we’ll return here after our day out.” He tilted his head. “Unless that isn’t what you want, Etta?”
She swallowed. “I just want to be sure I understand our arrangement.”
There was a moment when she thought she saw a touch of frustration cross his face, but it was gone instantly, leaving her to wonder if she had imagined it after all.
“I’m not thinking of the arrangement,” he said softly. “I’m thinking of my friend Bernadette and what she might need.”
She let herself smile a little. “You’re going to ruin your reputation as a rake if you keep this up.”
He laughed. “I know, I’m on thin ice. All this rushing in and sweeping ladies out of harm’s way, thinking of others, running around to museums instead of spending an afternoon analyzing every flavor of your skin.”
She shivered at that idea. “You know, though, I’m starting to suspect you were never so much a rake as you pretended.”
