Page 41 of Trapped with the Forbidden Duke
“Apologies for disappointing you, My Lady,” he offered, rather sarcastically. “I just came back from a business meeting and saw the candle burning in here.”
“Came back?” Edwina echoed. “I had not realized you left.”
“I am glad my presence here is noticeable.” His tone was dry, yet his smile was amused as he entered. “Nonetheless, I will join you. It is a sad sight to witness a lady in a fine dress drinking wine alone.”
“Youmayjoin me,” she corrected, frowning. “What if I wished to be alone? Plenty of people wish for such a thing, you know.”
The Duke settled into an armchair across from her. “I know well enough.”
She had a fleeting thought, reminding herself of her aunt’s mention of the Duke having no parents. Did he live alone? Where was the rest of his family?
She wondered, but she kept her questions to herself. She did not wish to be like her aunt, intrusive and nosy.
“Let me send for a drink for you,” Edwina said, rising, but the Duke shook his head.
“I am perfectly fine just to be here.”
Slowly, she lowered herself onto the settee. “How was your meeting? I am not asking for details, for I know how men feel about ladies sticking their noses in their business. But I trust it went well.”
“It went… as one can imagine. Lord Herrington has tested my patience enough times, and now he is surprised when it has worn thin. It is safe to say that our paths will never cross again where business is concerned, despite how much he wishes otherwise.”
Edwina thought of Lord Stockton. He had wanted to do business with the Duke, yet he had made it sound so impossible that she had needed to distract him.
Her thoughts turned to Diana’s claims about the Duke, heard from Lord Herrington himself.
Although the Duke was watching her, she kept that to herself. Instead, she said, “That sounds well. I do hope nobody got hurt.”
At that, the Duke only shook his head.
“Nicholas is still sleeping. Thankfully. I could not bear to see him in more anguish and pain.”
“Why are you not doing the same?” the Duke pressed, surprising her.
She frowned. “I cannot sleep while I know he could escape through the window at any moment. There might be a time when he does not come back at all.”
She bit her lip, worrying herself silly, as she had done ever since her brother’s return from the war.
“Do you think that is a possibility?”
“I do not know,” she admitted. “I only fear it and desperately hope it is not.”
Silence fell over the parlor for a few moments before the Duke smiled, looking at a spot on the floor.
“I have a cousin named Allan. He’s around four-and-twenty now, but when we were younger, I was seventeen to his eleven, and I dared him to swing from an old rope swing. We found it in the depths of Stormhold Hall—in the countryside. I knew the boy was easily influenced, and I could not help myself.
“I told Allan to swing from it, to see how far he could go. I knew all along that I would not do the same, for the old thing looked far from sturdy; the rope too frayed, and the branch it hung from too rotten. Yet, I still dared him, and he, only eleven and likely thinking of impressing his older cousin—or simply thinking hewould have fun—agreed. So off we went to the woods and found the old swing.
“‘I’ll give you the first push, and then you must swing as high as you can on your own,’ I remember telling him. He was all too eager to get on. I recall how the wet seat of the swing stained his breeches. But he did not care. So I pushed the swing once, and Allan cheered all the way. He cheered as he swung over the thick greenery, unkempt and depthless, and then began to swing himself. His cheers drowned out the creaking of the rope. But I heard it. I heard his scream, as well, as the rope snapped, and he fell into the underbrush, disappearing entirely in the foliage. The sound of his body hitting the ground was quite horrific.
“I remember thinking that if I did not die out of terror, then my aunt would surely have me buried for causing harm to her son. After all, she tried to keep us apart. So, when I told her that Allan had gotten hurt and it had been my fault, she was furious. I did not hear the end of it for days.”
“And your cousin?” Edwina pressed, surprised by his honesty.
Perhaps it was because he empathized with her embarrassment at dinner, but she saw a soft, tender flicker in his eyes as he recounted his story.
“He broke his arm,” he answered, as if it was quite all right. “Bruised a rib or two. But… Do you know what Allan said when the physicians led him away?”
“What?”
