She closed her eyes, willed herself to be calm, then said, “I thought you told me to write.”
“And you’ve not done so, which is why I decided it would be best to look in and ensure all is well.”
His charm was enough to make her scream at the moment. She did not want him to be nice or polite. She wanted someone deserving of the anger in need of release. “As you can see,” she bit out, “I am here and in perfect health. No need to worry.”
“And your job? Have you managed to—”
“You got your wish.” She almost spat the words on a wave of resentment rolling through her. “I was discharged this afternoon.”
His eyes widened a bit, and then he said the most astonishing thing. “You’re clearly distressed. Perhaps you would like me to make you a cup of tea?”
Laughter rushed up her throat and out through her nose in the form of a sputtering snort. When he remained serious and she realized he hadn’t been jesting, she clasped the doorframe and tried to find purchase in this odd turn of events.
“Thank you for your kindness, Your Grace, but we’ve already talked about how your presence in my home might be construed.”
“Which is why I chose to arrive at the back door. There is no view of this entry from the neighboring houses. I already checked.”
“Really?” She couldn’t hide her surprise. Uneasily, she peered toward the gate at the end of her walkway. Walls rose from both sides, tall enough to ensure they couldn’t be seen.
“So please step aside and allow me to enter before we freeze to death on your doorstep.”
Against her better judgment, Josephine did what he asked. Not because she had any interest in keeping company with a man as attractive as he or because she liked the attention he gave her. It certainly wasn’t because she hoped to experience another moment of physical awareness with him or because she wished he might do something more improper than keep her company in the privacy of her home. No. It was only because he was cold, and it would be rude to turn him away.
“I brought a few things for you too,” he said, passing her in the entryway. His arm and shoulder brushed against her so smoothly she gasped. He turned about swiftly, facing her in the tiny space and crowding her with his much larger size. “Are you all right?”
Unable to speak, she managed a nod.
He frowned as if he didn’t believe her. But whether he did or not, he chose to drop the subject, for which she was immensely grateful. “I imagine the kitchen must be through here?” he asked, gesturing toward a door on the right.
She nodded again, though he couldn’t see since he’d turned his back.
“There’s some ham and cheese, a couple of oranges, and three tomatoes in here,” he said, setting a bag on the kitchen table.
Josephine felt her throat close around the words she wanted to say. He was being so nice—too nice—and she’d treated him abominably. “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier,” she tried, hating how raw the words sounded and what they revealed.
“You lost your employment, which must have pained you.” He’d found the kettle and was busy filling it with water from a jug.
Swallowing, she turned away, just enough to hide the tears welling in her eyes. “I wasn’t going to do what you asked. I intended to keep my position. But now…” A burst of uneasy laughter slipped past her lips. “Apparently I am redundant and too costly considering my sex. My employer told me so right after he suggested he might want to keep me on if I was willing to…to….” Lord help her, she could not say it.
“If you were willing to what?” When she failed to answer, Snowdon’s voice spoke more firmly. “Miss Potter, did your employer ask you to do certain things in order to keep your position?”
She spun toward him, hands clenched by her sides as anger returned, hot and quick. “I told him to go hang himself.” Tension strained her body to the point of snapping, and yet she managed to keep herself still and to stop the tears from falling.
The duke’s face had hardened, each line drawn tight to reveal his fury. “Miss Potter—”
“You must forgive me.” An exhalation of breath calmed her nerves to some degree. “I’m not sure why I’m sharing all of this with you, except I usually have my sisters in whom to confide. Without them here, you are the only person I can talk to.”
He held her gaze as if searching for more information. Then, breaking eye contact, he lit a fire in the hearth and hung the kettle over it. “You will tell me who did this to you, Miss Potter.” His voice was low, his words carefully spoken while he busied himself with finding a tray, a teapot, and some cups and saucers.
Befuddled, Josephine watched for a long, silent moment. He retrieved some tealeaves and a strainer. “Why? I said my piece to the man and left. There is no need for you to go and defend my honor or whatever it is you are planning to do.”
“Perhaps not,” he agreed. “You did the right thing, but will it be enough to stop this man from mistreating other women in the future? How can we be certain he will not prey on someone too weak to deny him?”
Josephine felt her throat tighten at the prospect of such a thing happening. The possibility had not occurred to her, though she knew it should have. But she’d been too caught up in her own feelings of shame and anger to consider the consequence of such a man going unpunished.
“Very well. His name is Mr. Roth.” The duke’s expression hardened even further. “He is the manager of the Park View Hotel.”
For a second, it seemed as though Snowdon might hit something, perhaps even her if she happened to be in his way. So she took a step back, disliking the hostile atmosphere swamping the small space.
