“Well, that’s impossible with soldiers milling about and Lionel needing me. Do you have a one-word answer for false promises?”
He lifted my palm and kissed my knuckles. His hands were rough, but his lips were gentle, such contrasts against my skin.
“I’m thinking of another one-word answer for you. Tease.”
“Tease?” I shook free. “A tease is what men do, tease of love and happy forever when they only mean for a moment.”
A crackle sounded above, sharp and quick like a branch breaking. The house settling or was that thunder? “I should go get Lionel before the weather turns.”
The duke’s mouth opened, more sweet breath released along with a deeper groan. “I’d never tease you. Never.”
“But you have others, Lady Shrewsbury says so. How many have you led to believe in the sweeping power of a moment? How many have you made follow rules that you later broke?”
I smoothed his wrinkling sash. “Duke, I want to be you. The one with the power. The one controlling so many destinies. The first to withdraw when I tired of playing games.”
I’d silenced a rake with my stays in place. I curtsied. “If you will excuse me, I must go retrieve the paper per Lady Shrewsbury’s request.”
“No. I’ll withdraw first. It’s my paper. It’s the least I can do to set up a task to gather your stays. It’s a tangible thing, since you think only lies and games are my forte.”
He took a step. Then turned back, planting his crutch, the thud matching the storm’s moaning outside. “Have you considered it’s possible to have a changed heart? Can a rake choose to reform?”
“A man can choose anything today. Tomorrow? Well, tomorrow is tomorrow. Thunderstorms come and go.”
“No. Hearts can change. A man can be saved from himself. I was saved. I saw a woman, a beautiful Spanish peasant—”
“Duke, I really don’t want to hear of your exploits.”
“Listen. Everyone, including myself, discounted her as my lieutenant’s indulgence, but this woman . . .”
I saw a hard lump go down as he cleared his throat. “This brave lass . . . she picked up her slain husband’s sword and mortally charged the enemy for him, for the memory of him. I wasn’t fast enough to stop her. She died for him. She sacrificed everything for their love.”
His voice grew lower. This was no jest, but something he carried with him in his chest.
“Their baby, I had to deliver to her parents. He will grow up with neither of them and will never know the depth of her sacrifice.”
A gasp left my lips, my feet chilling as I stood in my own hypocrisy. I’d expected a clever retort, not something so raw and anguished that I’d be left blinking, breathless, even a little more broken in my spirit.
“That type of devotion is never earned by a man who’s not honest in his dealings, never given to one who’s faithless. I want to be the kind of man who can engender that kind of noble passion in a woman.”
I was caught, caught by the sadness in his voice. I’d tried to discount him as a pretty rake, a schedule-happy dictator—anything to justify or diminish the draw I felt for him. I had to admit that he was all of this and none of it. I hated that I’d made him feel less than what he was . . . honorable, and he’d chosen to be honorable to me.
The duke turned to the hall. “Go on onto the balcony. I’ll bring both ink and paper. I’ve a correspondence to send before the storm comes. It will rain soon. I feel it in my bones.”
He walked away, heading toward the abandoned ladder.
I stood alone in the nook, shamed, listening to the distant rumble of the coming weather.
Snap.
A loud pop sounded as if something stretched and broke.
I searched overhead and found nothing, then glanced at the duke. He closed the ladder and leaned it on its side.
Could someone truly turn from his past?
Could I turn from mine? I didn’t trust anyone but Jemina and the countess. A good man should be added to that list.
I had to apologize. “Your Grace, wait.”
