He knows.
I didn’t know how. I didn’t have any reason other than a feeling deep in my gut.
But I had already wagered that Gabriel was far more intelligent than the duke gave him credit for. I suspected Gabriel knew something about the nature of my relationship with Marlow—that it was not based entirely upon truth.
“Come,” Marlow said, urging my hand back in the crease of his arm. “Before you catch your death out here.”
“Before you catchyours,” I muttered.
His laugh was deep and infectious.
An hour later, I was safe and warm in my bed, no one the wiser for it, and drifting to sleep to the scent of spice and oranges still lingering on my skin.
The next morning, I awoke late to Jane placing a tea tray with pastries, fruit, and lavender tea on my bedside table.
Beside it sat my copy ofUdolpho, which I’d forgotten in the library, with a little note attached.
From the ghosts of Ashburn Abbey’s passageways.
The Duke of Marlow hopes you are well-rested. He reminds you that the stables are yours, at your leisure, should you wish to explore them, as is the rest ofthe house and grounds. At your leisure. Should you wish. (Not a command.)
Enjoy the day.
My cheeks ached from how hard I grinned. I read the note three times over, tracing the slanted scrawl with my fingertips.
Against my better judgment, I felt his words take root in my heart and expand. I shouldn’t let them. I should dig them out and toss them aside before they took hold of me. Before they grew. I had let such feelings take root before, and it had ruined me.
I’d let myself feel things the other person hadn’t. I didn’t want that to happen between Marlow and me.
I feared it already had.
ChapterFifteen
Marlow
My body groaned as I rolled to my side.
I’d fallen asleep with Cleo in my lap and the second volume ofUdolphoon my chest, again awoken in the chair to athunkwhen it fell to the floor, and moved in a haze to my bed. Usually, the sun persuaded me to rise every morning, but the clock struck ten, and still, I burrowed into my covers.
I did not want to rise and have to work and wait all day to see Georgiana again.
Vision still blurry from sleep, I had an idea grand enough to wake for. A reason to talk to her that wouldn’t seem out of the ordinary to a friend. Out of bed, I scribbled a note about the ghosts we’d chased last night, sent it withhercopy of the book she’d left in the library, and a tea tray.
Then I dressed for exercise.
Mr. Portland sat waiting for me in the fencing room.
“Well rested this morning?” he teased as I strode into the room, an hour later than normal. He stood from his chair and rolled up his shirtsleeves.
I took my foil in hand and crossed the room. “I couldn’t sleep.”
He smirked. Nodded his welcome. “Nice to see you too.Should we talk about what has you losing sleep? Or should I saywho?”
I blinked and Georgiana was there, in my mind’s eye. Racing ahead of me in the passageway, her skirts billowing behind. Taking my hand. Laughing with me under the moonlight.
No, I would not speak of Georgiana. She wasmine. My secret. I raised my foil at him in answer. “En garde.”
He arched a brow, still smirking as he raised his own foil and rounded me. “As you wish, Your Grace.”
