“I’m good at deducing things,” he said, but he kept his gaze on Cass, as if trying to figure her out.
Which made her uncomfortable. Or perhaps it was just her inability to breathe around him that was making her uncomfortable.
“In any case,” the duchess said, “please excuse our havey-cavey household. We’ve been short of staff for some time. So I’ll have to take Kitty up to Thorn’s room myself.” She nodded to her son. “Would you mind showing Cass the way to Grey’s bedchamber? The maid should already be there.”
“Of course,” Heywood said, with a furtive glance at Cass.
While Cass was still trying to read his look, the duchess said, “Thank you, Son. I’ll have Fox send someone up with tea as soon as it’s ready.” She held out her hand to Kitty. “Now, come, my dear, let’s go to your room before you fall asleep on your feet.”
But Kitty was engrossed in observing Heywood and Cass. “You’re standing under the kissing bough,” she pointed out. “You know whatthatmeans.”
Heywood looked up and smiled. “I do indeed.” Then before Cass could so much as think, he bent to press a kiss to her lips.
It was perfunctory and chaste, meant to appease their audience. Yet it sent a frisson of excitement down her spine. And when she drew back to stare into his face, she realized he’d had a similar reaction to that brief contact, because his eyes glinted with something that looked like desire.
Nonsense. She must be imagining things. A duke’s son could have his pick of the ladies in society; he’d hardly be interested in a gentlewoman of no rank like her.
The duchess was watching them now with interest. When Heywood cleared his throat, the woman quickly turned back to Kitty. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said to Cass and Heywood as she ushered Kitty up the stairs.
Heywood bowed to Cass. “After you, madam. Grey’s room is upstairs, too, but on the floor above Thorn’s bedroom.”
They followed the duchess and Kitty up.
Feeling the silence weigh on her, Cass said, “I notice that your mother takes seriously the custom of wrapping greens around the banister rails for Christmas.”
“My mother takes seriously any sort of Christmas celebration. That comes from having lived for nearly thirty years in Prussia, where they decorate large fir trees for the holiday. Father was ambassador there, you see, so we’ve become accustomed to having a household full of greenery during the season.”
“Including the fir trees?”
He nodded. “The British don’t practice the custom, but I’m told that Queen Charlotte always has one in the palace.”
“How very interesting.”
“You have no idea. At some point, Mother will surely have us making the tiny gifts that go on the tree. Since none of us have children yet, Mother invited the servants to bring theirs for Boxing Day, and she’s making sure there’s a gift on the tree for each child.”
“Oh, how kind of your mother. That sounds lovely.”
As they ascended the next flight, Heywood said, “It’s a great deal of work. This place is massive, with plenty of rooms. Mother keeps most of them closed up, but the ones that are open she decorates with sprays of holly at the very least.” He looked at Cass. “Incidentally, Gwyn’s room is up here, too, so you’ll have female company.”
“Gwyn is your sister, right?” she asked, hoping that idle conversation would keep her mind off their brief kiss.
“Half sister. She and Thorn are twins by Mother’s previous husband, whose death enabled my father to court and marry our mother. Poor Gwyn and Thorn were left fatherless before they were even born. And Grey, whose father was married to Mother before the twins’ father, was left fatherless at a year old. So my father was the only father any of us ever knew.”
“And now he’s gone, too. Your poor mother, to be widowed three times.”
He slanted another glance at her. “Do I remember correctly that you lost both your fatherandyour mother when you were young, which is how you ended up living with your aunt and cousin?”
“Yes. My parents died in a fire when I was nine. My aunt and uncle took me in without hesitation and looked after me from then on. So Kitty is more like a sister to me than a cousin.”
“And you’d do anything to protect her,” he said.
“Of course.”
They’d reached the next floor. He led her down a dimly lit hallway, then paused outside a closed door. They could hear noise from inside.
“The maid is still setting your room to rights.” He leaned against the wall. “We should let her finish.”
“Finish what?” she said archly. “Unpacking my nonexistent trunk and setting out my nonexistent clothes for tomorrow? I can handle that myself—I’m quite accomplished at managing imaginary tasks.”
