She had visited Reuben briefly to see him, the little boy looking absolutely thrilled to see her. He had tried to tug her close to thepile of books he had clearly set out to read that day, and pouted when had told him,
“I am sorry, darling, but I am afraid I am still quite occupied at the moment. But I will be back to tuck you into bed. You have my word.”
Reuben had hesitated for a moment, then he nodded reluctantly, Jane smiled sweetly at him and patted his cheeks gently before she took her leave.
With all her walking about, she had expected to have crossed paths with the duke multiple times. But she did not see him even once.
Perhaps he is preoccupied with something at the moment, she told herself as she continued to oversee the work that was going on.
The next day, the work continued on, with her efforts starting to shine through. There was still much to be done, but Jane was proud of what she had accomplished.
It was evident the staff approved as well, because she could hear them chattering excitedly, apparently giddy that the house had begun to look somewhat brand new. She only wished that Thomas would see her work and credit her for it.
But unfortunately, it seemed as though whatever held his attention at the time had no intention to give him a moment ofreprieve. It had been nearly two days since she had seen him, and something in her felt dismayed by it.
Still, Jane intended to make him happy with her efforts, which was why she had wandered off to take a look at his room while the redecoration was going on.
When she had proposed that the bedrooms also receive some changes, the staff informed her that the duke did not particular care for such and he did not like anyone touching his things.
“We have replaced some items and furniture around the house over the years, but His Grace has never once allowed us to do so in his room,” Mrs Greene divulged in concern when Jane had proposed the idea.
Still, she wanted to take a look at the state of the room, just in case there was something within that was in dire need of replacement.
Thankfully, it appeared the duke was away from the estate again, so she went to his room, carefully stepping inside with a swirl of curiosity within her. Almost at once, it was quite obvious what the housekeeper had told her.
The room was quite clean and organized, but the furniture and drapes were quite worn out. It was clearly in need of renovation and she thanked her instincts for not allowing her to forget completely about the room.
With a soft sigh, Jane began to inspect the room, scribbling in the little book the housekeeper had given her to take down all the notes of the things she wished to write down. It was easy to observe Thomas’ room because everything had been organized in a way that allowed for unrestricted movement.
As she carefully made her way to his bed to take in the condition of his nightstand, she found a piece of paper on top of it. It appeared to be a rough sketch of some kind, and Jane peered closer, trying to make out what it was.
It took her moments to realize it was a depiction of a barely clothed woman looking over her shoulders as she clutched a sheet to her form, concealing her hips and buttocks from view, whilst her shoulders, arms and even a thigh could be seen. And it took only a few seconds more for her to realize that she was the one being depicted in the drawing, the tell-tale splash of freckles across the woman’s nose and cheeks compelling her to raise her hand up to her face.
Heat rushed to her cheeks and just as she stood straighter, suddenly eager to be anywhere but in the room. She started to turn around when a voice stopped her in her tracks.
“What are you doing here, duchess?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“This is the second time you have been somewhere you had no business being, duchess. Is this a pattern I ought to take note of?”
Jane's breath caught in her throat and she closed her eyes quickly, praying to God that she had not just made a costly mistake. She turned slowly, as though if she performed the motion deliberately enough, she might be able to buy her some dignity.
That idea perished rather quickly when she finally faced her undoing and found Thomas standing in the doorway of his own bedchamber in a state she did not expect. Very quickly, she closed her eyes and immediately wished she had not turned at all.
He was... half-dressed. That was a mild, piteous way to think of it, especially when her mind was more focused on the state of him, rather than the clothes he seemed to be missing. His dark hair was damp – which told her he had just finished a bath,and she found the drops of water tracing slow paths down the column of his throat mesmerizing.
She watched the droplets roll over the broad plane of his chest, winding between the defined muscles of his abdomen before disappearing beneath the waistband of his breeches. He had evidently not expected company, because there was not a stitch of clothing above his waist and he did not appear particularly bothered by this fact.
Jane, however, was sufficiently bothered for both of them.
“If this happens a third time,” he continued, in that low, unhurried voice of his that she was rapidly discovering had the ability to cause her immense distress, “I will have to assume that perhaps you are purposely seeking me out.”
Her cheeks instantly became traitorously warm.
She tried to will herself to respond, perhaps with something sharp or composed words. Something that would undoubtedly suit a woman who was not still staring at her husband’s bare chest. Instead, her gaze slid – without her permission, without any cooperation from her better sense – across the breadth of his shoulders, down the lean taper of his sides, and she registered, distantly, that she had stopped breathing at some point in the last several seconds.
Then she noticed the scars.
