His weight pressed her down, his arms pinning her wrists. His dark eyes burned into hers as he realised who she was.
He did not immediately let her go.
‘You should be more careful, Miss Skye, about entering a man’s chambers uninvited. I do not think you realise the danger,’ he murmured, his voice rough with sleep as he finally loosened his grip.
Grace scrambled off the bed, keeping the disastrous memory of the ball fresh in her mind, and forced herself to keep her tone business-like.
‘I was in no danger, Your Grace. I double-checked the hallway before entering. Besides, I had no choice—I have urgent news that could not wait.’
He raked a hand through his hair as he slowly sat up, exhaling deeply.
‘I did not mean danger for you...’
Grace frowned at his puzzling remark but decided to ignore it.
She busied herself, smoothing her skirts, her fingers trembling slightly. ‘I am sorry to wake you, but I had no opportunity to speak with you during the day. This could not wait, I’m afraid.’
The Duke blinked, looking around wildly. ‘Wait—where is...’
His gaze landed on the enormous black-and-white Great Dane, sprawled across the floor, snoring softly.
‘What on earth did you do to Hugo?’ he asked, exasperation colouring his voice. He ran a hand down his face and shook his head. ‘You have cast a spell on him too, no doubt,’ he muttered dryly.
Grace hid a smile.
‘When did you decide to house a cow in your chamber?’ she asked impishly.
One of his brows quirked upwards, his lips twitching. ‘Hugo is a ferocious guard dog, trained to tear apart any intruder who dares set foot in this room.’
‘Hmm, perhaps he could do with a little more training,’ she teased.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. ‘If you would be so kind, Miss Skye, as to turn around while I make myself more presentable.’
‘Oh! Yes... of c-course,’ she stammered, quickly turning, her face flaming.
A few moments of rustling fabric later, he stepped around the bed, now clad in a white linen shirt, the top few buttons left undone.
Grace swallowed hard. He was showing far too much chest for her comfort.
‘I am all ears, Miss Skye. What is this news that disturbed my slumber?’ he asked, folding his arms and regarding her intently.
She took a steadying breath, then blurted, ‘The watch belongs to Lord Edward! The watchmaker made two—one for Lord Harry and one for Lord Edward. He personally engraved them. Lord Edward recently went back to commission a replica after losing his, but the watchmaker was unable to do so.’
‘Whoa, whoa! Slow down, sweet. I cannot comprehend a word when you speak so fast,’ he said, pulling her gently towards the sofa.
He poured her a glass of water from a nearby pitcher and handed it to her.
‘Here, drink this.’
The cool water helped, and she took a deep breath before attempting again, this time at a more measured pace—rather than the frantic babbling of an overwrought pigeon.
‘I just found out a few things myself,’ the Duke said. ‘Taylor was watching all the guests from a hidden spot at the ball andidentified the three friends of Gibbs. They are close associates of Edward and Harry—they went to Eton together. The Bow Street Runners have arrested them, but they have not talked... yet.’
A sickly tremor ghosted down Grace’s back. The fact that these men were more afraid of the murderer than of imprisonment disturbed her.
She swallowed hard.
Lord Edward must be incredibly dangerous.
