His tone riveted through me, trying to awaken a heart that had been put to sleep with my unhappy marriage. Playfully, I tugged at Repington’s lapels again. “You were blathering, and I didn’t think you’d let me kiss you after I confessed to another masquerade under your nose.”
“You could’ve just covered my mouth like Lionel does. You do love me, don’t you?”
“Non.”
“But you do like me?” His sigh, his rum-anointed breath smelled good, as his whisper fell upon my nose, my mouth. “Don’t you?”
If he felt my pulse racing, he’d know how I felt. If I hadn’t had my heart broken by the same kind of man, one who could only love me if I complied, I’d be fool enough to fall for Repington.
“Outside this room, Your Grace, we should keep up the pretense. Me being the nanny, you the crazed field commander.”
“Crazed? Who’s been to Bedlam? And it’s not crazy to demand order. I’m not sure if I like this arrangement. I don’t like falsehoods or pretending.”
“Would you rather it be known that the commander was deceived?” Very lightly, I put my hand on his thigh. I was careful with my touch, light and honoring what I knew of him. “I think you care what people think.”
The duke picked up my hand and clutched it to his chest. “Thoughts are meaningless. How one is treated is all that matters. I like you, Patience. You don’t treat me like an invalid. Don’t start now. And you’re mistaken if you think you have the upper hand.”
“Well, you have that hand now.”
He released me and fumbled with the belt of his robe. “I don’t have to go along with anything. Is my old friend the countess in on this, too?”
“I’m a widow. Lady Shrewsbury has a heart for widows. She’ll help any woman in trouble, no questions asked. My circumstances are dire. I’m at your mercy as much as I was under Markham. Male guardians have all the power on these shores.”
“There’s much to consider. But as I said, I’ll not toss you out. And I certainly won’t if these trust documents prove authentic. Besides, Lionel hates pap milk. He’s a taste for the good stuff. I don’t blame him.”
His joke—was it a failed attempt to cover the longing in his voice?
I took a long breath savoring the scent of him, rum, sandalwood, masculinity. “You know that Markham is the threat, not me?”
“Perhaps. But your pretty lips have lied to me twice.”
“I did what I had to do for Lionel.”
“And kissing me, was that for the boy, too?”
“Repington, some burdens are easier to bear than others.”
“Seems to me you haven’t been burdened enough. By Jove, your lips haven’t been kissed, not often enough. How can you be Colin’s widow? He was an amorous fellow.”
The light banter betwixt us died as shame and hurt and all things unrequited welled in my windpipe. I moved from him. “Your god knows Colin wasn’t himself, not in the end. You can stay in the master bedchamber, my old bedchamber, but I’m taking my Lionel next door to the adjoining bedroom.”
He reached for his crutch like he planned to give chase. “I am sorry—”
“No. Stay. Read my trust documents, pray to your Jove, and come to the only conclusion. I am Patience Jordan.”
“I’m not sure what I’d pray for in this moment other than there to be nothing but the naked truth between us. Nothing.”
I didn’t want to guess at his meaning, so I fled into the hall.
Looking up at the darkness of where the chandelier had been, I swam in my guilt, guilt for making eyes at my husband’s cousin.
Colin couldn’t be replaced so easily in my heart, my bed, my son’s life. Could he?
“If you’re here haunting, Colin, know I’m sorry. I won’t let you down this time.”
Carriage lanterns flashed outside.
Repington came from the drawing room and walked toward me. My documents stuck out of his robe pocket.
