He handed her the book, and their fingers brushed as she took it. The touch was brief, barely a second, but Eliza felt it like a spark. It was a jolt that traveled up her arm and settled somewhere deep in her chest.
From the look in the Duke’s eyes, he’d felt it too. They stood frozen for a moment, the noise of the fair fading into the background.
Then Eliza stepped back, clutching the book to her chest. “We should return to the boys.”
“Yes,” the Duke said, his voice slightly rough as he clapped his hands together. “We should. Shall we?”
They found Helen and the twins at a stall selling ribbons and the rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of games and treats and laughter.
By the time they returned to Kirkhammer Hall, the boys were exhausted but happy. They thanked their Uncle profusely before Helen shepherded them upstairs to wash and go to bed. Eliza was about to follow when his voice stopped her.
“Miss Graham.”
She turned. “Your Grace?”
“Thank you. For today. You helped bring them closer to me, I think.”
“They are very fond of you, Your Grace. They just needed to see that you care.”
A hint of a smile ghosted on his lips. “I’m grateful anyway.”
They stood in the hallway, the house quiet around them. He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but instead, he simply nodded.
“Goodnight, Miss Graham.”
“Goodnight, Your Grace.”
Eliza climbed the stairs to her room, the book heavy in her hands and her heart beating far too fast. She knew that night she would read of gods and heroes, and all the while…
She would be picturing him.
Chapter Nine
“Mr. Blackwood, Your Grace,” a footman announced.
The next morning, Mr. Blackwood arrived for another meeting. Morgan was in his study, reviewing correspondence, when the solicitor was announced.
“Very well,” Morgan said as he welcomed the distraction.
He’d spent half the night thinking about hazel eyes and soft fingers, the way Miss Graham had smiled when discussing Montaigne.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” Blackwood said, settling into his chair and bringing Morgan back to the present.
“Good morning, Blackwood,” he ground out.
“Shall we begin with the accounts then?”
“Please.”
They worked through the business efficiently. Morgan signed documents, approved expenditures, and listened to reports on various properties and tenants based on their prior meeting.
This was familiar ground, the practical work of managing a duchy. He was good at it when he focused, and he knew it.
“The drainage project is proceeding well,” Blackwood was saying. “The tenants are pleased. And the harvest projections are quite favorable. We will be well supplied through the winter, which is anticipated to be harsh.”
“Excellent.”
“Your steward also mentioned that you’ve been quite present on the estate lately. Visiting tenants, inspecting properties. He’s impressed.”
