He rose slowly, setting the glass aside and moving around the desk with measured steps.
There is no mistaking it.
He shrugged off his coat without thought, the fabric slipping easily from his shoulders before he draped it carefully over her, the gesture more instinctive than deliberate.
His fingers brushed lightly against her skin as he adjusted it, and even that small contact sent something sharp and undeniable through him, settling deeper with a clarity that left no room for doubt.
He was falling in love with her.
CHAPTER 23
“Where is His Grace?”
The question left Diana’s lips before she had properly taken her seat, her tone composed, almost idle, and yet carrying a sharpness she did not trouble herself to soften as she stood at the threshold of the breakfast room.
The footman nearest the sideboard straightened at once. “His Grace has already retreated to his study, Your Grace.”
That is unusual.Diana’s fingers tightened faintly around the back of the chair before her, though her expression did not alter in the slightest, her features settling into that practiced calm she had perfected over the past year.
“Indeed?” she returned, allowing a faint note of polite interest to color the word to make it seem as if she had asked out of nothing more than habit, as though the absence of her husbandat breakfast were a matter of no consequence at all, and not something that struck her.
The man inclined his head. “He had business to attend to early this morning, Your Grace. He left instructions that he was not to be disturbed.”
The words settled into her chest with a quiet, unwelcome weight, spreading slowly, like ink through water, staining thoughts she had not intended to entertain.
Had he felt disturbed by her?
There was nothing inherently wrong in such a request, nothing that ought to have stirred even the faintest reaction within her, and yet Diana could not shake the subtle, persistent feeling that something had shifted.
“I see,” Diana said smoothly, lowering herself into her seat with unhurried grace, every movement deliberate, controlled. “Then pray do not trouble him on my account. I was merely… curious.”
The lie was delicate, perfectly shaped, and it slipped from her tongue with an ease born of long practice, though something in her chest tightened faintly at the sound of it. She herself did not believe it entirely.
The servant bowed and withdrew, leaving her alone with the soft clink of porcelain and the far too noticeable absence at the head of the table.
Diana reached for her teacup, her fingers steady, though she could feel the faint, traitorous tremor in her pulse as it beat at the inside of her wrist. The porcelain was warm against her skin, the scent of the tea rising softly, but she found she had no appetite for it. Nor for the neatly arranged plate before her, nor for anything at all.
Her gaze drifted, almost against her will, to the empty seat at the head of the table.
It should not have mattered. There had been an entire year in which his absence had been the rule rather than the exception. A year in which she had learned to sit at this very table alone, to conduct her mornings without expectation, without anticipation, without the slightest inclination to wonder whether he would appear. And yet?—
It is different now.Her stomach tightened.
She lifted the teacup to her lips and took a measured sip, forcing herself to focus on the simple act, on the warmth sliding down her throat, on the discipline of maintaining composure when something beneath it threatened to shift.
He had been here. He had returned. He had stood in her rooms, in her presence, had looked at her as though she were something to be devoured, had touched her as though restraint were an inconvenience rather than a necessity.
And now he was gone again.Not gone. Working.Diana set the cup down quietly.Of course, he has obligations. He is a duke.
She drew in a slow breath, steadying herself, aligning her thoughts into something more orderly that resembled reason.
Her spine straightened.
“Remove this,” she said lightly, gesturing toward the untouched plate.
“At once, Your Grace.”
She rose before the servants could complete the task, her movements fluid, every inch the duchess she had become in his absence. There was no hesitation in her step as she left the breakfast room, no outward sign that anything had shifted within her at all.
