And into a quiet, sleeping stable that smelled of horses and hay.
Like home.
Marlow closed the door behind us and latched it as Istraightened. Our breaths met the cold air in little wisps. He set his candle on a little ledge in the wall behind us.
Leathers hung on hooks. Pails and brushes and tools waited on little tables and shelves. Marlow watched me take it all in.
“Your villainous hideout?” I motioned to the peaceful quiet around us.
“Indeed.” He frowned. Hands on his hips, he took in this space, which was lit only by the moonbeams trailing in from high windows lining the walls. “Honestly, I had no idea that passage led here. I was hoping for a dark cellar.”
I laughed aloud, and Marlow’s delighted eyes met mine. And we wandered. The stable was composed of a dozen or so horse stalls, half along each wall, each lined with hay. To my right, I looked in on a black stallion sleeping while standing. Then a gray mare lying down next door; she barely rustled as we passed.
“This is much better than a dark cellar.”
He smiled.
I thought back to the look he’d given me earlier. The touch of his hand. And my chest tightened. “Though I think I’ve had enough dark passageways.” I trailed my hand along the smooth, polished wooden doors of each stall. “I much prefer the moonlight.”
“It suits you better.”
I looked back and found him not too far off. Studying me again. Still smiling. “Was there really a rat?”
He did not immediately answer. “... Yes.”
I wanted to crawl out of my own skin. I imaginedsomething skittering up my spine and tried to shrug the feeling away. “I amnotgoing back through there.”
He chuckled, stopping beside me at the end of the row. “We can return through a side door of the house. I have a key.”
“Thank heavens,” I breathed. I leaned against the door to the stall of a beautiful white mare.
“Her name is Flora.” Marlow leaned opposite me, his body angled toward me, but his gaze on his horse.
“She’s lovely.”
His eyes met mine, thoughtful. “Would you like to take her out tomorrow?”
I hadn’t ridden a horse in ages. Not since last summer with Peter before both our lives changed. “I would love that. If I am able.”
Marlow lowered his chin. “I told you, Georgiana. You can do whatever you please here.”
Not that again. As though I was untethered and free from all responsibility. “Your mother might have plans for—”
“She can wait.”
Make the Duchess of Marlow wait? What world was he living in? “Don’t say that.”
“What?”
“‘Do whatever you please.’ Like Ican. Like Ishould. I cannot walk around your estate like I have free rein. Especially now, with your mother angry with me after Mrs. Waymont’s party. I must be reasonable and responsible.”
He looked utterly baffled. His lips parted as though to speak, and then he promptly shut them. Then he raised his hand to the back of his neck and stretched out his fingers. Hisforehead scrunched. “Tell me, then, in what way could I have made the offer more reasonable for you to accept?”
He seemed truly interested in my answer. An earnest question that felt rare from him.
I thought for a moment. “Perhaps phrasing the offer more like, ‘If you have the time, you’re welcome to take Flora on a ride.’”
Marlow nodded his head slowly. “Is not that exactly what I said?”
