“She is in the corridor, Ian,” said Lady Tribble defensively. “Keep calm, for God’s sake.”
“Where?” demanded Lachlan.
“I am here, Your Grace,” said Drew, stepping inside.
“Oh,” said the duke. “Right. Very good. Come in.”
He was seated behind a massive desk in the center of the room. He picked up a folio of papers and tossed them aside. He slid a piece of parchment in front of him and took up a pen, dipping it in the ink pot.
He cannot look at me, she realized, the flapping bird of her heart sank into a dive.
“Miss Trelayne,” he began. “I—”
“I’m so incredibly sorry,” Drew said in a gush. The words fell from her mouth like stolen silver from a pillowcase.
“It’s not—” he began.
“Ian?” interrupted Lady Tribble absently.
Drew and Lachlan turned to Lady Tribble.
“Where are Grandpapa’s books on Roman mythology?”
While they watched, Lady Tribble drifted from the desk to wander between two bookshelves. She disappeared down the aisle.
There was a moment of silence. Drew glanced at Lachlan. Remarkably, he met her gaze. The bird in her heart swooped upward again. Lachlan’s expression was not angry or cold or bitter. He cocked his chin toward the bookshelves and then looked back to Drew. His face said,Surelyshe’s joking?
Drew blinked, a flash of delight momentarily blotting out their terrible reckoning.
“Why am I not surprised?” he mumbled. He cast another quick glance at Drew and then back to his paperwork.
He started again, “What is your view, Miss Trelayne, on what comes next? What would you tell us to do, if you, yourself, were not part of... of the ‘us’ in question?”
Drew stared at him. “You’re asking me, Your Grace?”
“Yes, of course. It’s an odd request, I know. Honestly, I wasn’t aware how desperate I was for useful counsel—”
“You were clearly desperate for something,” came the voice of Lady Tribble from behind a shelf, “but ‘useful counsel,’ it was not. If I’m being honest.”
The duke froze, flicked his eyes to Drew, and then looked away.
“I was going to say,” he continued, “how much I required useful counsel until you came along.” He cleared his throat. “This runs contrary, I know, to my need to, er, draw you into a kiss.”
“Oh, that was far more than a kiss,” came the voice of Lady Tribble again.
The duke pivoted in his chair to stare down the aisle.
“I stand corrected,” he said, turning back. “Far more than a kiss.I should like to point out that I do not make a habit of kissing and... ‘and far more’... members of my staff. Not on a regular basis. Not ever, actually. Just to be clear. In fact, this would be my first ever time to commit such an infraction, so—”
“Not true,” sang Lady Tribble from the back of the room. “What of the milkmaid from Frampton?”
Lachlan swore. “The milkmaid was not a member of staff. And I was all of fourteen years old. If you cannotjoin the conversation here, at the desk, Timothea, pray do not interject.”
Drew watched him struggle with irritation, with chagrin, with something else she couldn’t name.
He is human, she thought. In her mortification, she’d allow herself to forget this.
He began again. “What are your thoughts, Miss Trelayne?”
