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Her blue eyes met his squarely.

"What I do know is my sister."

There was something in the way she said it, a certainty that surprised him.

"Lizzie and I have never wanted the same things. She has always believed rather more readily in the goodness of people than I have. In love. In happy endings." Something almost wry touched her expression. "I have never had much use for either."

Arthur said nothing.

"But she and I chose one another long ago. I know her better than anyone."

Her gaze did not leave his.

"I know what makes her laugh. I know what frightens her. I know how desperately she yearns to be loved, even by those who have done very little to deserve her.”

Something tightened unpleasantly in Arthur's chest, and the study suddenly seemed quieter.

Cecily regarded him for another long moment.

"I do not care that you are a duke. Nor do I particularly care how many men you are supposed to have killed." Her chin lifted slightly. “If I discover that you have used her as men of your rank are accustomed to using women of ours, I shall make you regret it.”

Arthur raised a brow.

"Is that a threat, Miss Dawson?"

"No, Your Grace." She held his gaze without so much as blinking. "I have always thought threats rather pointless. If I intend to do something, I generally do it."

For a long moment, Arthur regarded her. Most people feared his title. Nearly all feared his reputation and very few possessed the courage to threaten him whilst standing in his own home. Miss Dawson had managed it within three minutes of making his acquaintance, and he found himself respecting her for it. His wife deserved people who loved her with such unwavering loyalty.

"I am grateful," Arthur said at last, his voice considerably softer than before, "that my wife has someone willing to defend her so fiercely."

Some of the tension in Miss Dawson's shoulders eased, though only by a fraction.

"That loyalty is precisely why I asked the Earl of Danbury to permit your stay at Winworth."

He rose from his chair and slowly circled the desk.

"I have not brought you here to serve as one of the household staff."

He stopped a respectful distance away.

"I brought you here because I want you to be my wife's companion."

He paused.

"I want her to laugh again."

The words escaped before he had the opportunity to reconsider them. His expression hardened almost immediately, as though attempting to conceal the admission.

"Ensure she never lacks for company," he continued more formally. "Encourage her to paint, to walk the gardens, to visit the village if she wishes. If there is anything she wishes to do, you need only tell me, Mrs Clapton or Mr Ellis. Spare no expense."

His eyes met hers once more.

"My wife's comfort is your only duty whilst you remain at Winworth."

For the first time since entering the room, Miss Dawson looked at him not with suspicion, but with curiosity.

She searched his face for a long moment, as though attempting to reconcile the stories she had heard with the man now standing before her. Whatever conclusion she reached, she kept to herself.