Page 37

The duke had the hint of a smile at the edge of his lips the whole way home as he listened to his sister and mother. His lips were really a wonder. Full on both the top and bottom lip, on any other man it might have looked too feminine, but on the duke, it was fitting. The brackets that framed them only emphasized them, and they all sat in a face that was in perfect proportion. How annoying.

Rose looked away when his eyes glanced her way. She dug into her reticule as if looking for something. This man evoked a whirlwind of emotions within her. There was the Max situation, the fact that he was letting her stay in his house, his maddening ways when dealing with others, and of course now she would be in his debt if he was able to ensure her financial situation. Not to mention the fact that she did not want to acknowledge the growing attraction to him. Absolutely not!

Elsie was waiting for her when she entered her room, and she sat as her maid undid her hair, all while she told her all the latest gossip from below stairs. After she dressed in her nightgown, she dismissed Elsie and slipped her dressing gown on, grabbed her book, and walked down the hall, determining this would be the last book she would borrow from the duke.

She hesitated at the door. Would he still be mad at her? Would he order her out? And now she had added another burden to his already enormous pile. She turned to go back to her room. The book could wait until tomorrow, or she could leave it in front of his door. Yes, that was a smart idea. She turned again, but this time the door was open, and the duke stood in the doorway.

His expression was bemused. “Rose, what are you doing still up? It is nearly dawn.”

She wrapped her dressing gown tighter around herself. “I know. I was just going to leave the book in front of your door.”

He waved her suggestion away. “You may keep it for a while longer if you wish.”

“No. I…”

He gave her a curious look, then said, “Is this about our debate in front of the carriage this evening?”

She blinked several times. “Debate?”

“Sparring match, whatever you wish to call it. Or is your brother on your mind still?” The duke looked at his pocket watch. “Can we convene on this subject later? I have to be up in three hours for my meeting with the prince.”

“Oh. Of course,” she said, still clutching the book like she were starving and it was a loaf of bread.

He gave her a bow and drifted past her. She watched him go like an idiot until he was all the way down the hall and standing in front of his door. One last glance her way, and he disappeared into his room. What a fool she was. It was because she was tired; that was all. Her mind was not working at its best. Sleep was what she needed, and so, with measured steps, she made her way back to her room and under her covers, the book placed on her bedside table as it had been before she had left the room in the first place.

Why did she think taking the book back would be a good idea? She put her head under the covers, but she could not sleep. Tossing the covers off, she paced in front of the fire. He had called their disagreement a debate, a sparring match. Like he had enjoyed word dueling with her. She had to admit that some part of her had enjoyed it too, especially when it made his eyes flash with that spark of what? Irritation? Interest? Desire? Emotion?

Eventually she went back to bed and looked up at the canopy of her bed. Her eyelids closed just as the sun was rising, her mind full of the puzzling man down the hall.

Chapter Nine

The Prince Regent was not his usual self today. He waved away every morsel that the footmen offered him. Highly unusual.

“I am not in the mood for theatrics today, Warrington. My wretched wife, you know. Tell me only the important parts. I do not care about Spain and slaves, not today. Only good news, if you please.”

“Your Highness, the treaties with Spain and Portugal regarding the abolition of slavery is nearly completed.”

The prince’s head lifted from where he had been studying his cuffs. “I said I did not want to hear about it.”

Edward bowed. “I beg pardon. You requested good news.”

The prince glared at him for a moment and nodded. “So I did. Anything else?”

“No,” Edward replied.

The prince froze, his glass of claret halfway to his lips. “Everything else is bad news?”

“Not necessarily,” he said. “Just not only good news.”

The prince waved him on. “Is anyone plotting to kill me?”

“Not this week.”

The prince laughed. “Right, is anyone trying to declare war on us?”

“No one new, Your Highness.” Edward paused. “There is one thing I should tell you. It is in my report if you would prefer to read it at your leisure.”

“Tell me.”