We clashed foils for an hour, rushing and retreating in a winding dance, my mind a blank slate, until my muscles ached and sweat saturated my shirt.
He threw a towel at me before he left. “Good work today. You ought tolose sleepmore often.”
“See yourself out,” I said to his back, for he’d already turned.
He waved a hand over his shoulder.
Perhaps I would lose sleep tonight. If Georgiana felt like reading.
Had she awoken yet? I wouldn’t blame her for sleeping well into the afternoon after how late we’d stayed out.
After eating breakfast, a cool bath awaited me, and, alone in my room, I sunk into it. At this rate, I’d be working at my desk until dinner.
No, that would not do. Perhaps I could task Toole with some of the less important business.
Shaved, I took my time dressing, stopping in the mirror a final time to smooth my hair. Something was lacking. Smooth jaw, starched cravat ... perhaps a little more scent?
Saints, I sounded like Gabriel.
Enough.
I barged out the door just as the clock struck one in the afternoon. I descended the stairs, heading toward my study as soon as my boots touched the ground, and went to work.
I tried to read the paperwork in front of me. Once, twice, even a third time. Squirrels jumped around out the window. Birds sang merry melodies. Cleo stalked in and out, over my boots.
I only made it halfway through before a knock sounded gently on my door.
Georgiana? My heart drummed against my ribs. No, it wouldn’t be her. What reason would she have to seek me out here? What would she possibly need of me?
I imagined her sauntering in. Wearing that pretty blue gown she’d worn to the Waymonts’ party. Hair pinned up, cheeks rosy ... lips painted red. She’d come in slowly, watching me with that clear, golden-green gaze. I’d sit back in my chair as she stopped just above my desk, her hip leaning against the oak, lips parted as she drew in that full, bottom lip—
Tap, tap, tap.
I blinked and swallowed hard. Devil take it, what was wrong with me? “Come in.”
I cleared my throat and raked a hand down my face. I’d overslept. I’d read far too late in the evening, and then I’d overslept. My mind was still a little fuzzy, that was all.
“Your Grace.” Toole stepped into the room. “Her Grace and company plan to walk Hyde Park in an hour. Your presence is requested.”
Blast and bother. What, now? “Who—” I cleared my throat again. Gads, something was stuck. “Who is expected to join?”
“Yourself, Her Grace, Mrs. Drexel, Mr. Brennan, and Miss Wood.”
Georgiana. She’d walk with Maggie because the whole point was to keep our distance. But seeing her at all outside of our evenings sounded appealing, even though it shouldn’t. I shouldn’t be thinking about her at all.
“Very well, thank you.”
Toole nodded and started to turn, and I suddenly panicked. I didn’t want to be alone in this room with only work to divert my mind from thoughts of the wrong woman. For that was what she was—wrong for me. For the dukedom. And yet the more time I spent with her, in every way she felt exactly right. I couldn’t explain it.
“Toole?” I called him back on impulse.
He stopped at the door and turned round expectantly. “Yes, Your Grace?”
I wasn’t even sure what I wanted from him. Answers, certainly, but I wouldn’t tell him the whole of my current problem, my inability to control my own mind. Myweakness.Perhaps, though, he could give me a window into his. Understanding his feelings might help me sort out mine.
“That woman—the one you are hopeful to marry.”
His eyes brightened. “Mrs. Page, Your Grace.”
