Page 51 of The Madame Catches Her Duke

Uncertain which was preferable or what he sought to hide by his shifts in demeanor, she pushed the door open and entered, closing it behind her with a forceful slam.

If her siblings were hell-bent on eavesdropping, she would not make it easy for them.

No matter his current state, she knew enough about him to know his intentions, while misguided, were genuine. He cared about Leona greatly, and everything he’d done was to protect her, even if that meant hurting Marce.

The sight of him made her heart stutter for a few beats before it resumed its natural rhythm. His hair was combed in the precise manner he favored, his trousers and jacket tailored to fit his imposing frame, and his cravat would put any other valet’s attempt to shame.

So, she was to face off against the rational, composed duke then.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed, careful to keep her tone low and not allow any weakness to show. “You could have sent word telling me to leave Craven House. I’ve already stated I will not fight you. Are you here to embarrass me in front of my family? That is so predictable, Your Grace. As if you are not exacting enough from me already, you seek to ruin my standing with even my own siblings. Shall I call them to the room to make it easier?” She flung her arms wide as her voice rose. “You can share all the details of the last eight years with them. Tell them that their sister is nothing but a lying, deceitful schemer. I would leave the word whore out of it, though. Even with my many faults, my brother will not take kindly to the term.”

Rowan shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, remaining silent but never taking his stare from hers.

The tension drained from her as her fury ebbed. “Do what you must or leave, Rowan. It is past time this thing between us is ended. I only ask that you give me today. I will gather my things and depart Craven House on the morrow.”

All the fight left her, and her knees quaked, her legs threatening to collapse beneath her. Despite their argument at Hadlow, Marce had held back. She’d not said all she wanted. Hurling insults would do nothing to change her situation.

His muted silence unnerved her, until finally, he said, “I am not here to cast you from your home.”

She’d be foolish not to notice his choice of words…your home.

After all these years, after his threats, after their argument, he still called Craven House her home. It made little sense. They were both aware that the property belonged to the Harwich dukedom, no matter what Rowan’s father had promised her family. They both knew who was in control.

“Then why are you here?” Her tone spiked with confusion. A new thought slammed into her. “Is Leona well? Has her sickness grown worse?”

She scrutinized his almost chameleon-like stare as the color wavered between green and yellow, attempting to gain some information from his silence, but he remained calm as if his being here—in London and at Craven House—was no more significant than a stop at his tailor’s to select pewter or brass buttons for a new coat.

Breaking eye contact, Rowan turned and paced toward the unlit hearth, focusing on the black hole where flames should be devouring logs and keeping the room warm. She hadn’t expected any visitors and had therefore instructed Mr. Curtis not to waste their supplies to start an unnecessary fire. It was the same with the candles about the house, there was no need to light excessive wicks to brighten rooms no one was to occupy.

No excuse or apology was necessary for the decisions she made on a daily basis.

“My mother is well, at least she was when I departed Hadlow at first light.”

The breath she hadn’t realized she was holding escaped on a sigh. “Leona is well, and you aren’t here to demand I leave. So, what are you doing here, Rowan?”

Chapter 22

Rowan fought every natural instinct in him to keep from drawing Marce into his arms and insisting that everything would be fine. He was not taking her home, nor would he expect her to continue with their arrangement. Giving Marce her freedom also meant allowing himself a measure of independence, something that terrified him. As a duke, he had more autonomy than most men, though wealth and status did not keep the loneliness at bay.

“There has been a grave misunderstanding between us—“

She shook her head, causing a single curl to fall to her shoulder. “There has been no misunderstanding. I knew exactly what you expected of me, and I decided to call off our ruse. You were very clear about what you think of my life and me. I believe common whore said it all.”

“You heard me incorrectly.” He pivoted away from her. The anguish in her stare was too much for Rowan to handle. Her every word drove a dagger deeper and deeper into his heart. “I did not mean…”

He’d said what he said, and in that moment, he’d meant every word.

“I said those horrid things to cover my own hurt, the pain inside that grew a thousand times worse each time I saw how content you and Tobias were together…without me. Insinuating such an intimate connection, however—especially using the words I did—was something I did out of anger. At both of you, yes. But mostly at myself.”

“What I do or do not do is none of your concern, Rowan,” she fumed.

“I know you and Tobias have developed a kinship, one I am not a part of. One I did not realize I wished to be a part of until I witnessed the pair of you in the meadow.” Or had it been when she waved to Tobias as they stood in the gardens?

She took a step toward him, her finger pointed at his chest. “And if we decide to continue our friendship, that will not concern you either.”

“I understand that, Marce.” Rowan longed to fall to his knees and beg for her forgiveness. He longed to ask for… Ask for what? He would never ask her to continue playing his wife. He had no designs on Craven House, nor any say in her future plans. But bloody hell, he wasn’t ready to simply walk away and return to a future of seclusion either. As sad as it might sound, she was one of the few constants in his life. “I am here to beg for your forgiveness.”

She stumbled back a few steps as if she’d been pushed as his proclamation settled in the air between them. Her eyes narrowed in doubt. “Do you know how hard it has been to keep this from my family?”