Page 1 of The Ward
THE WARD
Istood outside the study of Lord Simon Standish, Duke of Ardgave, working up the resolve to knock.
Tucked against my chest was the book he’d sent me—The Book. It had arrived last week to the remote country house where I lived with my ailing mother, wrapped beautifully and accompanied by a note.
Thenote.
I had it memorized by now.
Cecelia,
I will expect your presence at my estate next Thursday afternoon to discuss something of much import. Bring the book.
It had been signed with the bold, flowing letters of Lord Ardgave’s signature, a signature I’d always adored.
Something of import.
What could that be, other than a decision about my future?
Had he found a place for me? A position? Or… I held my breath, hardly daring to hope. Amarriage contract? Was it possible I was to become a wife, and Lord Ardgave, the wonderful man, would tell me of it?
Lord Ardgave had been my father’s best friend, and my guardian since his death. That was back when he was merely LordSimon, before he’d inherited. I hadn’t seen him as often as I used to, but he’d faithfully sent my mother’s allowance and paid for my schooling.
Was I to be given the opportunity to thank him, now?
With my free hand, I smoothed down the skirts of my simple day gown, although I knew I had no need of it. When we’d arrived here at Ardgave yesterday, my maid had pressed the pink silk, knowing I’d need it for this afternoon’s meeting.
And here it was, almost two in the afternoon, the appointed time, and I was dithering in the hall. The word he’d sent this morning as I was breaking my fast alerted me to the time he expected me in his study, and I remembered enough about my guardian to know I mustn’t disobey or keep him waiting.
His air of power and control was one of the things I’d always admired about him, after all.
Stop wavering. He is expecting you.
Yes. And I would never want to disappoint him.
Taking a deep breath, I rapped smartly on the door before I could change my mind.
“Come,” said the deep voice inside, sending a shiver down my spine.
I swallowed, pushed open the door, and stepped into his study. It was a large room, well-lit by high windows that leant an air of privacy to the space. There was a trio of leather chairs and a chaise near the cold hearth, and shelves along two walls.
And in the center, as strong and resolute as Lord Ardgave himself, stood his large desk.
Hesat behind it, his hands steepled in front of him as he studied me.
Lord Ardgave was nearing fifty, and the silver at the temples of his perfectly coiffed dark hair reflected that. His stern mouth and deep blue eyes would never allow anything as crass aswrinklesto affect his skin, and he kept his jaw smooth-shaven.
I’d never forgotten the time, years ago, when I’d found an excuse to touch his cheek. The feel of his stubble beneath my palm had made me breathless, even then.
Stop staring, you ninny!
“Good afternoon, my lord,” I murmured, managing a deep curtsey—one showing my respect—with the book still clutched in one hand. “I am here, per your bidding.”
“Welcome, Cecelia.”
God in Heaven, his voice—gravelly and deep—always made me squeeze my thighs together. He had such a commanding presence, one that always made me want to jump to do his bidding.
He stood now, and gestured me closer. Of course I obeyed, nearly tripping across the rug to stand before his desk. I suspected I would have done it even had he not beckoned, for the chance to see him closer.
