Page 71 of A Deal for the Duke’s Virgin

“You deserve far more than this,” he whispered, lifting his hand and letting the back of his knuckles trail down the curve of her cheek.

The touch, slow and tantalizing, left goosebumps in its wake, making her shiver.

“You deserve more than me,” he added, and there was a wry twist in his voice that she could not quite work out. “Much more, my dear.”

Well, what was she supposed to make of that?

He stared at her for a moment longer, then turned away, letting his hand drop. She could still feel the phantom tickle of his fingers against her cheek and had a mad urge to dart forward, seize his hand, and press it against her face once more.

She didn’t, of course. It would only make things strange between them. Besides, she had some pride. Whatever had happened between them last night would clearly not happen again. It had been neatly shelved away in the same category as the kiss they’d shared: remembered but never spoken about. Perhaps there was a rule about these things that she was missing.

Maybe.

Christian rose to his feet, clearing his throat. “I had better go. Thank you for returning the notes, Thalia. And again, thank you for your help. It means a great deal. I wish you luck with the children.”

He gave a nod and a smile, then strode hastily down the hall, leaving her staring after him, baffled.

CHAPTER 20

Thalia stared up at the ceiling in a mulish defiance. The clock in the corner must have reached twelve, although it was too dark to see it now. She could light a candle, but that would wake her up for sure.

She hadn’t yet given up on falling asleep. Somewhat angrily, she rolled onto her side, bringing the tangled blankets with her. After a moment of lying there, determinedly squeezing her eyes shut, she let out a low, irritated growl.

It was no good. Sleep wasn’t coming for her that night. With a sigh, she sat up, lighting the candle beside her bed.

The day’s events played over and over in her head. She thought about how Christian had looked when she’d said that name. Sophie. Who was the woman? An old friend? An old lover?

Best not to think about that. The idea of Christian taking a lover made anger surge in her chest. That was ridiculous because a man like him would certainly have had lovers. Why not? After all, gentlemen were allowed to do as they liked, assuming they were discreet about it.

For example, Lord Cunningham, a portly, fat-faced man with an almost comically thin, spindly-looking wife, was well-known to frequent opera houses. That by itself wasn’t a crime, but bringing the opera dancers home certainly was frowned upon. The man had a string of lovers; everybody knew that.

But poor Lady Cunningham had no such freedom. When she went to the opera house with her husband, even to watch an ordinary play, she had to sit tight-lipped and straight-backed as her husband leered over the dancers.

It wasn’t fair, but those were the rules.

Thalia slipped out of bed, her nightgown swaying around her. She moved over to the window, peering down at the dark lawn.

I can’t sleep, and I can’t do anything except pace my room. Jonathan doesn’t like me wandering around the house after we’ve all gone to bed. I bet Christian goes where he likes and does what he wants.

It wasn’t fair. Freedom was just given to men, whereas women didn’t get a chance.

I am not stupider than a man. I am not more cowardly. Why can’t I be free, too? Why can’t I demand answers?

Abruptly, Thalia turned away from the window, shaking a little. She tore off her nightgown and hastily changed into a plain brown wool dress that she rarely wore. She pulled on sturdy boots which were only considered suitable for long walks and shrugged on a dark cloak.

After a moment, she reconsidered and took off the boots. She would put them on when she was outside.

And just like that, she was ready. She leaned over and blew out the candle. She stood in the darkness for a moment, breathing heavily, letting her eyes adjust.

Am I really going to do this?

Yes, it seems that I am.

She slipped out of her room, stockinged feet padding along the hallways. A night-footman would be sitting in the front foyer, but it was easy enough to avoid him. She took the back staircase and went through the kitchens. One of the back doors was easy to unlatch, and she hoped it would still be unlatched by the time she got home.

She crossed the garden, tiptoed around the side of the house, and then stepped into the main street.

A shiver rolled through her.