She sat down beside him, sure to keep a distance between them. “Yes. Bed.”
“I promise I won’t keep you. One drink.”
“One drink.” She eyed him warningly and then broke into a smile, which saw him laugh.
The bottle of whiskey sat beside the Duke, and he poured her a glass. She took a sip, sucked through her teeth, and had another.
“I think she likes it,” he joked.
“I don’t hate it,” she admitted. “But I’m not much of a drinker.”
“Any reason?”
She almost told him about her father. It was right there, on the tip of her tongue, but she held it back, as if she was worried about giving him too much. To tell him about her father’s drinking would force her to tell himwhyher father had started to drink in the first place. That was one memory she was not willing to share.
The Duke was still a stranger, and despite everything, she did not know if she could trust him. Or herself, for that matter.
“I thought we were going to talk about you?” she said rightly.
“And why would you think that?”
“Forgive me for saying, but it looks to my eyes that you have something on your mind.” She shrugged and had another sip. “Hence, the drinking alone.”
He sighed and slunk into the coach. “Can it be more than one thing?” He took a deep sip of his drink. “I feel lately like thewhole world rests on my shoulders as it slowly buries me where I sit.”
“How about we start with one thing,” she said gently, “and go from there.” She studied him closely, noting how tense he was, how awkward. “Might I ask you something?”
“It’s only fair that you do.” He had another long sip.
“Today…” Yvette considered how to phrase her question so that it would not sound accusatory or judgmental. “I do not know if you noticed, but Hugh has a stutter. A rather bad one, when he is nervous or afraid.” She eyed the Duke, but he said nothing. “I was… wondering what you thought of this.”
“What I thought?” He raised an eyebrow.
“I know that such things are considered a weakness by some men…” She swallowed as he continued to watch her closely; the fire reflected in his eyes and burned her. “That it is even thought of as an embarrassment.”
“And you wish to know if I plan on casting my own son out like a crippled monster?” He spoke with a knowing smirk. “Perhaps leave him in the wilderness to be adopted by wolves.”
“Do you?”
He scoffed. “Is that what you think of me?”
“I do not know what to think.” She took a sip of her drink, if for no other reason than to calm her shaking nerves; her body trembled with energy, made worse by how the Duke looked at her. “I do not know you at all, so I cannot possibly guess at your thoughts.”
“Well said.”
“Excuse me?”
“The way you worded your accusation –”
“It was not an accusation!”
“-- almost as if you were at fault, rather than me…” He smirked and shook his head as if at a joke. “I do hear what you're saying, Miss Norleigh, and I understand why you would think such things of me.” The Duke raised an eyebrow. “That I am so cruel and wicked that I would –”
“I did not say that,” she cut him off. “You are putting words in my mouth.”
“I am,” he agreed. “But am I wrong?”
Yvette went to argue… but she caught her words before they left her tongue. It would be a lie to say that she had not thought such things of the Duke. And while she now knew them to be false, she could not say for sure what he meant to do about Hugh’s stutter.
