Page 27 of The Best-Kept Secrets
Duke continued drying the clean dishes, and Eve continued fighting her urge to simply stand about watching him, waiting for another heart-stopping smile. If she stood near enough to him, maybe he would hold her hand again. Maybe she could actually make him laugh. She suspected the sound would melt her.
He dried the tureen. “The soup was delicious.”
“Thank you.” She managed two words, and sensible ones at that. Had he the least idea how much her thoughts and feelings were spinning about, he would be impressed. Best that she push forward and get herself focused once more. “I do enjoy baking, but I don’t often get compliments. Mostly because I’m not permitted to confess that I made the food.”
“That is an absolute shame.” Duke held up the now-dry soup tureen. “Where does this go?”
“Over here.” She waved him toward the high shelves that many of the serving items were kept on. “Up in that empty spot there.”
Duke stretched up and slid the tureen into place. He was standing very close, near enough to leave her with no doubt that he was strong and athletic and that he somehow managed to smell nice even with all the work they’d done that day.
He didn’t walk away immediately but turned toward her. His mesmerizing eyes slowly slid over her face. Eve’s breath caught, and her heart leaped into her throat.
“Thank you for your help.” The words were whole but whispered. It was all she felt capable of.
He inched the tiniest bit closer. “I enjoy spending time with you.” His brilliant blue gaze hovered for the briefest of moments on her lips.
“I enjoy spending time with you.” Her voice emerged as little more than a whisper.
“Likely because I am a very gifted scullery maid.”
She laughed, which relieved the intensity of the moment. She could think again. “Gifted, perhaps, but currently neglecting your scullery-ing.”
Duke bowed at the waist, a perfect replica of the way a footman bowed after receiving instructions from a butler. He returned to his task.
And Eve did her best to simply breathe.
Chapter Eleven
“You must tell your father,when we see him next, how very intolerable this journey has been.” Grandmother wrinkled her nose in that way she so often did. “He will, of course, insist that he is the one most put upon. Do not allow him to diminish what I have endured, Dubhán. Tell him all that I have been put through.”
Neither she nor his father would likely give even a moment’s consideration to whatDukehad endured. Father seldom did on matters concerning his mother and sister. Grandmother never did on any matter whatsoever.
“You will see him at the same time I do.” Duke set her breakfast dishes on the tray he’d brought them up on. “You could tell him.”
She looked shocked, an expression that quickly shifted to offended.Lud.“You mean to abandon me? Your own grandmother? My children often dismiss me and my suffering. Surely you would not do so as well, you who have often been the only member of this family to consider my feelings, my needs, my happiness.”
And what aboutmine?Duke’s feelings, needs, and happiness had always been set aside when family contention reared its head. Sometimes it felt as though his family didn’t notice, let alone care, that they were burdening him with arguments and feuds older than he was.
But Eve cared.
“You don’t look just weary,”she had said,“you also look frustrated and sad and... lonely.”
He really was weary, frustrated, and sad. But until Eve had said as much, he hadn’t realized how lonely he truly was. The Pack had eased that while he’d been away at school. Among them, he was valued and embraced and a welcome part of their family of friends. None of them had ever attached conditions to their acceptance of him. Only when he’d faced the reality of living for decades at his parents’ home, where caveats reigned supreme, had he begun to truly appreciate the contrast between the two situations.
Duke placed the last of the breakfast items on the tray. “I need to take these things back down to the kitchen.”
“I am impressed with the food this chance-found cook has produced.” Grandmother rarely praised anyone. “I’ve half a mind to extend an offer of employment. My cook in Dublin is not nearly this expert.”
“We are fortunate, indeed.”
“Your father is, no doubt, paying for all this, though Penelope really ought to be. Her fortunes have fared better than his.”
If Grandmother were permitted to chase that thread of thought, it would lead to the inevitable hours-long recounting of past disappointments. Duke hadn’t endurance enough for that. From the doorway, he offered an explanation he hoped would end the conversation. “The O’Doyle sisters are compensating the cook, Grandmother.”
“Those girls are, I am quite certain, as poor as church mice.” Grandmother sounded shocked, and well she might be.
“Poor, yes, buttheyare not complaining.” He gave her a pointed but caring look, then closed the door.
