Page 45 of A Duke in the Rough

“My father?”

“Yes. I brought something with me. A portrait of your father, done right after he met your mother. Out of anger, Burwood was going to destroy it, but I talked a servant into removing it before he had a chance. Your butler said he would put it in my room.”

“I should like to see it.”

“Shall we go now?”

The moment he opened the door, and before he could step aside and allow Aunt Kitty to exit, Honoria fell into his arms.

CHAPTER 13

“Oof!” Honoria stared up into Drake’s surprised face.

His arms wrapped around her, steadying her. “Honoria, what’s wrong?” The gentleness of his voice and the safety of his arms only made her weep more openly.

Someone thrust a handkerchief between them, and Honoria peeked around Drake’s broad shoulder to see a wizened woman gazing at them with great interest.

She pulled from Drake’s arms as if he were on fire. In truth, it was she who was on fire—for him. Yet, having a witness to being in his arms would only lead to devastating consequences. The last thing she wanted was to trap Drake into an unwanted marriage. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to?—”

“Shush, girl,” the woman said, her voice firm, but not unkind. “No one is blaming you for anything, real or imagined.”

“Countess,” Drake said. “May I introduce Lady Honoria Bell, the daughter of the Marquess of Stratford? Lady Honoria, the Countess Gryffin, Burwood’s great aunt.”

“Call me Aunt Kitty.” The woman’s face cracked into a smile and a hundred tiny lines.

Honoria swiped the handkerchief under her eyes as she forced an answering smile. “Pleased to meet you, Countess—I mean Aunt Kitty.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Drake said, bringing her back to the argument with her father.

“It’s nothing,” she lied. “However, I seem to have become disoriented. Where is the staircase leading to the bedchambers?”

Aunt Kitty patted Drake on the arm. Odd that she would use such a gesture of familiarity with him. “I’ll give you two a moment, and then perhaps we can all proceed upstairs together.” She ambled off to the side, the cane in her grip shaking with each step she took.

An urge to rush to the woman’s side and assist her replaced Honoria’s concerns about her own troubles. “Will she be all right? She appears rather unsteady.”

Drake, too, watched the woman, affection shining in his eyes, and Honoria’s heart swelled even more for the man before her. “She’ll be fine.” He turned his attention toward Honoria. “What has you so upset? And don’t tell me it’s nothing. I know you, remember?” He took the handkerchief from her hands and held it to her nose. “Blow.”

Gracious! Sheshouldbe mortified, but somehow, she felt safe from judgement and did as he instructed.

His lopsided grin set wings battering her stomach. “There. Much better.” He waded up the handkerchief and tucked it in his pocket. “Now, tell me.”

“It’s no?—”

A sandy eyebrow quirked. “Honoria.”

She had to laugh at his censorious tone. “My father and I had a bit of a tiff. I said something—disrespectful.”

Both eyebrows shot up at her admission. “No! You? What were you arguing about?”

She cast her gaze to the floor. “You.”

“Ah.” He said nothing further, and when she peeked up at him, he seemed neither disturbed nor amused.

“You’re not going to ask me to elaborate?”

“I don’t have to. I imagine it was similar to the conversation I had with him.” He touched the tip of her nose with his fingertip. “The oneyou rescued me from, if you recall. I assured your father I was not pursuing you and there was no reason to be concerned.”

“Oh.” Although she considered, even feared, Drake had put the past behind him, hearing him say it punched the air from her lungs. Hope that they could rekindle what they’d shared—as fragile as spun candy floss—shattered into a million tiny pieces.

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