“You would still give the money, despite the previous losses?” He pushed off from where he leaned against the cabinet and meandered toward his chair.
“I was not under the impression that you were at a deficit currently. Unless the sums he is asking for are quite exorbitant.” I sat back in my seat as he took his. “If he istrying, then I see no reason why you, in your position, oughtn’t to help him. Strength of the whole is better than strength of the one.”
Marlow’s jaw worked. He was quiet. Thoughtful. Hedowned his last sip in a quick tilt of his glass. His chest moved with his next deep breath.
“I’ve told him no. He thinks I am cruel.”
“Are you?”
We locked eyes again. His attention felt like an arrow pinning me to the spot. My heart thrummed against my chest.
“Doyouthink I am?”
I thought through our acquaintance. How rigid he’d been when we’d first met. Was he capable of cruelty? Most certainly. But deep in his bones, was he cruel?
“I do not think you’d be asking my opinion on the matter if you weren’t bothered by the question yourself. That alone tells me you are not cruel, Your Grace.”
He set down his empty glass and rested his arms along the chair, his head leaned back, eyes closed. And I supposed that was the end of that.
I opened my book and found the page I’d left, still too distracted to read. My gaze wandered the words.
“What did Mrs. Johns say this afternoon?”
I looked up again. It seemed a single glass could loosen his tongue. That, or the duke was in a chatting mood.
“Thanks to your cousin and Her Grace, I’m to expect a parade of callers in the coming days.”
His eyes remained closed. “Are you not pleased?”
I shifted in my seat. Was I? I should be. “In truth, I feel more anxious than anything.”
“Over what?” He blinked awake, frowning.
Forward of him to ask. I tilted my head. If he were any other person, I’d—well, why shouldn’t I call him out? “That is a touch too personal, Your Grace.”
“Forgive me.” He looked down, his features shifting into a smile. “Though by your own account, we are such good friends.”
I rolled my eyes. My own trick played against me, and fairly done. Though I doubted he actually cared aboutmyfeelings. Sitting before me was a man bored, in his cups, needing a distraction. I’d met such men before in many of Peter’s friends. Doubtful he’d remember half our conversation by morning. I sighed and closed my book.
“I fear I am too changed since last year to incite true interest from suitors. Perhaps I might secure a proposal, but if I do, is it really mine? When all pretenses are dropped, Your Grace, I am still and will always be the girl on the hay reading books with her barn cat.”
His chest started to shake, then his shoulders. And he coughed out a laugh.
He waslaughingat me.
“I beg your pardon?” I asked, cross.
“Forgive me.” He chuckled. “I am imagining you in a hay barn with a stray cat, and I—well, I can see it perfectly.”
“And that is humorous to you? My loneliness?” My tone sobered him.
He frowned like a child chided, though his eyes were still alight. “On the contrary, I find it rather endearing.”
My cheeks grew warm. I looked down at my book. Whyever would he say something so ridiculous? He must feel sorry for me.He, the naturally harsh-natured, unfeeling duke.
“He is not a stray. He is a mouser named Mercutio to whom I tell all of my secrets.”
Marlow sat up straighter, lips turning upward again. Eyesmore alert. “My apologies to Mercutio. I am unacquainted with the social hierarchy of cats, but I assure you I meant nothing by it.” He dipped his chin.
