Page 28 of The Madame Catches Her Duke

“It is Rowan,” Tobias exclaimed as the rider drew to a halt before them. “What in the bloody hell…”

“Your Grace,” Marce greeted, taking a step away from Tobias, though she hadn’t been standing inappropriately close before. It had been the nature of their discussion that was intimate. The thought fled immediately as Rowan dismounted, his expression dark and his mouth set in a grim scowl. “Is the duchess unwell?”

Rowan stared directly at Tobias, leaving her question unanswered.

The duke now wore trousers free of soil stains and a freshly pressed linen shirt, his riding coat unbuttoned to reveal his expertly tied cravat. Despite the clean attire, Rowan couldn’t hide the frantic darting of his gaze, or the worry lines etched around his eyes and mouth.

“Rowan.” She dropped her horse’s reins and stepped toward him, an edge of steel in her tone. “Is something amiss at Hadlow? Is Leona well?”

She glanced at Tobias as he looked Rowan up and down before shrugging and glancing away. It was as if a conversation had taken place, and things discovered, without a word being spoken between the men.

“I thought I would join the pair of you for your ride,” Rowan mused, turning back toward her. “Though I now see my error.”

“What error?” Rowan was acting strangely, even for him.

“It appears I have interrupted a private moment.” Rowan made to turn back to his horse, but Marce quickly placed her hand on his arm to halt him. “My apologies. I should return to Hadlow.”

“No, Your Grace,” Marce attempted to distract the duke from the scene he’d stumbled upon. The last thing she desired was Rowan questioning her or Tobias about what they’d been speaking about. Tobias had spoken of Rowan’s private musings—and it was as if Marce had in some way betrayed the duke. “We were just about to ride back to the estate. Please, join us.”

“Yes, Ro, we were merely walking to give the horses a chance to cool down.” Tobias avoided her and Rowan as he remounted his horse. “But I do believe they are well-rested and prepared for a good run back.”

Rowan offered his assistance, lifting Marce to her side-saddle before gaining his own horse. The trio turned toward Hadlow, and the horses fell into line, side by side. Marce kicked her horse into a canter before Rowan said anything further.

There was certainly something not quite right with the duke. He’d never joined her on an outing while at Hadlow before. They rarely dined together. But now, two days in a row, he’d gone out of his way to be in her presence. Did he suspect she was readying to run?

The wind tugged at her hair as she rode toward the manor, leaving Rowan and Tobias in her wake.

She knew time was running out to speak with Rowan and tell him of her plans, but now Marce sensed there was more she needed to hear from Tobias first. And she needs must beg him to keep her secret, at least for a while longer until she could ponder everything she learned and figure out how—or if—it affected her decision.

No, Marce could not allow the knowledge of Rowan’s painful childhood to affect her plans, nor could she risk delaying their conversation much longer. However, Tobias had given her much to ponder—and many new questions that needed answers.

Chapter 12

What in the damn hell had come over him? Rowan paced from one end of the billiards room to the other, his tumbler long empty and his patience expired—if it had ever existed in the first place. He’d been foolish to call for his horse and gallop after the pair much like a puppy after a neglectful owner who could not be bothered to give him a good-boy pat.

Stomping to the sideboard, Rowan refilled his glass, not bothering to offer his guest another drink. The room was closing in on him, the heat from the hearth oppressive, causing him to have trouble taking a breath. It had nothing to do with the tightness in his chest since dinner the previous evening—nor his overexertion in the gardens that morning.

What galled him the most was that Tobias and Marce had reacted like he was the outsider, the interloper, when he’d stumbled upon them in the meadow. Not the other way around. Did they not realize he was the common denominator in their triangle? He and Tobias had been friends since they wore knee breeches, while he and Marce were joined because of their bargain.

Tobias was his friend.

Marce was his… Rowan shook his head. He hadn’t the time or energy to think through what to call their association. It was in no way friendship. The woman was at Hadlow to fulfill their bargain, to stay out of his way, and make certain his mother remained happy and content during her infirmary.

Not to find flirtation with Tobias—if that was all they had.

Why did he care?

Marce was not his wife, nor anything beyond the woman whose family was responsible for the ruination of Rowan’s childhood. He didn’t care what she did outside of their arrangement. He shouldn’t care. He’d spent the last eight years not thinking about who and what Marce Davenport did if it didn’t pertain to their bargain. Rowan would be damned if he started now.

Except it appeared that the woman wasn’t content with stealing Rowan’s father’s love from his family. Now, she and Tobias looked happier together without him…and Rowan could not even begrudge them that because he was the reason Marce was at Hadlow. His inattention had led to Tobias and Marce’s friendship. If that friendship had developed into something deeper, that too was not something Rowan had the right to be angry over. He’d been too filled with rage and resentment to notice anything.

Tobias was Rowan’s friend. The bloody man had been his comrade since before either knew the meaning of the word.

Tobias belonged to Rowan—they were friends. The man had never shown any sign of receding loyalty and knew far more about Rowan and his past than Rowan felt comfortable with all of a sudden. Did he seriously doubt Tobias’s devotion? In some deep recess of his mind, Rowan knew he was being irrational, yet he’d seen the pair together—last night and in the meadow. He’d sat and watched Marce and Tobias as they meandered through the tall grass, their heads tilted together as they spoke, their bodies nearly touching as the sun cast rays of brightness about them. It was a closeness Rowan had always longed for, yet had never found completely with anyone. His father had been distant and otherwise occupied, his mother had her illness that kept her trapped, and once Rowan had attended University, he was already plagued with doubt regarding every person who made his acquaintance.

There had only ever been Tobias. His friend had never disappointed him. He’d never been too busy to share a companionable afternoon.

“Why did you request that I remain after our ride if you are only going to carry on in your silent sulking?” Tobias asked, pushing from the lounge to fetch another drink.