What are you doing? It is no offense to have a brandy of an evening.
Taking a moment, for clearly the entire night had addled his mind, he replied, “Come in.”
The door opened and there she was, so beautiful it took his breath away every time. He schooled his face into indifference and gestured to the chair opposite his desk, as he walked around to the other side. Notquitethe comfort he had intended to enjoy, but he assumed she would not be here for very long.
Unless…He stared at his drink and wondered if he ought to offer her one.
“I will stand,” she said, fidgeting with the seam of her glove. “I will not disturb you for long.”
His offer of a drink remained a thought as he waited for her to continue, his gaze seeking answers from her face before she said anything. She would not look at him. Indeed, she managed to look everywherebutat him, finding a corner of the study that seemed to interest her.
“What troubles you, Frances?” he asked quietly.
She had not seemed to struggle to look at him while they were dancing. She had not struggled to smile or laugh in his company. She had not shied away from him then, but that guard of hers had gone back up.
“Troubled?” She shook her head. “I am not troubled.”
“What is the matter you wish to discuss?” he rephrased, mildly amused by her skittishness.
With her hand to her stomach, inhaling so deeply that her shoulders rose and fell, she managed to meet his gaze for a second before snapping her attention away again. “It is just that… I want you to know that I am…. Well, I am not here under any… um… deceitful ambitions.”
“What do you mean?” he said, his mind flitting back to his conversation with Hugo on the steps.
If she had heard snippets, perhaps she had misunderstood.
Her throat bobbed. “I do not want you to think that I… have any ulterior motive.”
“Is that why you cannot look at me?” He could not help himself. “Do you think I might misunderstand your intentions?”
Her freckles almost disappeared beneath a sudden flood of pink that dappled her face, her chest rising and falling in quick, anxious breaths.
“I should hope you do not,” she blurted out, still unable to meet his eye. “Indeed… I have… I have never thought of you as a prospect. I have never thought of any gentleman as a prospect. But I am… aware of how it may seem.”
He sipped his brandy in quiet contemplation, puzzled by her. What sort of society lady had never thought of any gentleman as a prospect? He knew she was twenty-five with two sisters, so had she deliberately chosen spinsterhood? Was that another reason she had departed London in haste, so she would not have to marry?
“I have not doubted your intentions,” he said at last, “but I am pleased to hear that we are in agreement on this matter. You see, I have no intention of ever marrying again.”
“I was not suggesting… Oh, I am no good at this!” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I came here to reassure you that I am here to tutor, nothing else.”
Dominic rose from his chair. “And what has brought on this desire to confess?”
“Confess? Your Grace, I am not confessing! I have nothing to confess!” she gasped, her eyes wide.
He knew he should not tease, that he should send her on her way to retire for the night, but he could not help it. He was not ready to dismiss her from his sight.
“Why come to my study alone to tell me this?” he said, moving around to the side of the desk.
“I… did not think. I keep forgetting that I ought to be chaperoned.” She grimaced. “I have not truly needed one in so long that… I should not have come. I will leave you be.”
He stepped forward as she turned to go, catching her by the wrist. “No, I should like to hear why you came to me with this. You have not felt any compulsion to clarify your intentions before, so why now?” He held her gently, so she could pull away if she wanted to. “Is it because we danced, Frances?”
“You should not call me that. It is the second time you have done that,” she rasped, though she made no attempt to wrenchher hand free. “A duke should know how to… how to address me properly. A duke should remember his manners, always.”
Her words were a twisting knife in his back, though she could not have known that she had plunged the blade in.
A duke should…
A duke must…
