Were observing and fretting the same thing? I nodded. “Perhaps.”
“Well, you’re not one for flattery. Or do you simply loathe being wrong?”
“Both.”
He raked a palm through his hair, the shift stopping on blonder locks. His distance remained respectable and aggravating, not the caress of before. He stood close enough to have his ears boxed but far enough for me to admire how well he looked in his uniform, the shine of his brooch.
I covered my eyes. “Your Grace, is this chat done?”
He sighed, his breath citrusy like an island breeze. “At least that wasn’t a one-word answer.”
“Yes.”
The duke sighed again. His fingers clenched, then slacked to his sides. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”
“You want me to flatter you? Why, Duke, you look r-really suited for the saddle.”
He glared at me, his eyes frowning, his noble chin elevated, seeming formal and above it all. “Is that the best you can do? You were more convincing of actually caring posing as a footman.”
Maybe it was the challenge in his voice. Maybe it was days of being forced to agree to his rules for my son. Or maybe I wanted him to notice I wasn’t a rag doll. I shouldn’t be ordered about. I wasn’t going to be put on a shelf like Colin had done. He assumed I was too delicate to be seen in Town, anywhere away from Hamlin. Lies.
I grabbed Repington by the sash, the one that crossed his wide chest, and shoved him a little against the gods. I hoped they minded their business as I put my palms to his lapel, massaging the rough wool between my fingers.
In a low voice, sultry like a singer, I said, “I’ve never seen anyone so skillful with his mount. Your Grace, I’m overcome in admiration.”
His brow lifted. Did he see me now? Was he shocked?
“That’s your best, ma’am?”
Could I do better? I stepped closer. Our shadows entwined. I skimmed my pinkie down the brass buttons of his jacket—plink, plink, plink.“I’m not sure what my best is. I don’t know what I’m capable of anymore.”
His smirk went away, and his eyes had darkened to mirrored glass, but in those reflective pools, I saw a wild woman, a wanton one. And it looked wonderful to be free.
“Has your widowhood liberated you, or has working for me stirred rebellion under that mobcap?”
“Both.”
“One-word answers!”
I stilled my fingers on the brooch Lionel had touched. “Is this what you want, another sycophant to be in awe of you, your power?”
“No.”
“Oh, now it’s your turn for one-word answers.” I leaned into him and put my cheek so close to his I could feel his breath. I knew he felt my panting. I knew I was slipping from pretend to that dark place of need I long denied.
But this wasn’t Colin who’d turn me away.
I think the duke wouldn’t flinch if my lips met his.
Footsteps sounded overhead.
Pushing back on my heels, I retreated. “The house is filling, Your Grace. Please have your soldiers finish their household duties. They didn’t replenish all the glass globes on the chandelier and left the ladder in the hall.”
His jaw tensed, and he put his hand over mine. “So you’re done with me? A few questions, a request for truth, and then you send me away. Errands, madam, over an admission that you were wrong. I thought you were more honest than this.”
“Errands are tasks to be added to a schedule. Your orderly heart should love it.”
“Anytime you’re ready for me to school you about orders and schedules, I’ll willingly indulge. Do pull me away when there’s a lot less distractions. I don’t like to be interrupted.”
