“Only if Miss Norleigh allows it…” He looked at the governess and she smiled sheepishly.
“I am sure we can find the time. I would hate to think that the prince is left out in the cold…”
Again, their eyes met. Again, their stares held. And again, there was an unspoken tension hovering between them both. It had existed for some time, but it had grown significantly since that first night spent by Hugh’s bed.
Neither would dare to voice it. Neither would dare to do anything about it. But it was there… and it was palpable.
“Until next time.” Alistair turned on his heel and strode from the room.
As he went, he felt Miss Norleigh watch him, just as he felt the disappointment inherent in his parting. His own disappointment, as well as hers.
Alistair followed Mrs. Fletcher down the hallway and toward his office. The door was open, and he knew this because he heard the bickering of his two guests long before he saw them.
“… you really should not be sitting there,” a female voice said.
“Oh really?” a male voice scoffed. “And why is that?”
“Because the chair belongs to His Grace. It is not yours to sit in.”
The male voice laughed. “Is that so? I don’t see His Grace anywhere, do you? Who is going to stop me?”
“It is not about…” She huffed. “It is not right. And I would expect you to know that.”
“You expected wrong.”
Alistair sighed and shook his head as he approached his office. He knew who the two voices belonged to, of course, but he did not know why they were arguing. Although, to be fair, he should not have been surprised…
“What I expected was that a duke, such as you are, would have at least a modicum of respect for his host. That he would not act like a bore who – Your Grace!” Lady Emily Pearce started in surprise when Alistair strode into the office. “I did not hear you.”
“Too busy complaining,” Carrowell sighed. He sat in Alistair’s seat, his feet up on the desk, his hands folded behind his back. “I suspect that a tornado could have blown through the house and you would not have heard it.”
Lady Emily glared daggers at Carrowell, who grinned wickedly.
“You.” He pointed at Carrowell. “Up. Now.” Alistair strode across the room.
“Yes, yes…” Carrowell kicked off his feet and groaned as he climbed from the seat. “Just keeping it warm for you.”
“And I thank you for it.” Alistair sat down as Carrowell stepped around the desk. “Very kind.”
Lady Emily stood back in the room as if she was trying to avoid getting too close to Carrowell. Carrowell perched himself on the edge of the desk, and he smirked at Lady Emily as she continued to glare ruefully in his direction.
Alistair eyed the two with curiosity. As far as he knew, Lady Emily and Carrowell did not know one another, at least not enough to warrant such hostility. But again…Carrowell does have a knack from bringing out the worst in people, so I can hardly blame her.
“I am so sorry for the intrusion.” Lady Emily swept across the room and stopped short of the desk. “I would have sent wordahead, but I thought it would simply be easier if I saw you myself.”
“Is something the matter?” Alistair asked her.
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” she assured him. “But I find that letter writing has the distinct disadvantage of time consumption. Waiting for responses, not knowing if they might come…” She shrugged. “Who has the time for such things?”
“Surely you have nothing but time,” Carrowell drawled. “That you were able to come all this way without notice proves it. No?”
She levelled a glare at Carrowell. “And what of you? I might have thought you would be passed out in a tavern somewhere by now.”
“That’s for later,” he said with humor. “Usually, I like to get blacked out drunk after midday.”
She curled her lip and looked away.
Alistair groaned. “Carrowell, do me a favor, will you?”
