Page 44 of A Duke Changes Everything
“Yes, of course.” Mina grinned and rose from her chair, excitement and anticipation sweeping away all remnants of fatigue. “A brilliant idea, Wilder.” She took a quick sip of the tea he’d delivered and broke off a bit of orange cake. “Is he in his study?”
“Should be. Unless he’s gone for a wander.”
Mina swept her fingers through her hair and straightened her bodice as she made her way across the hall. After how they’d parted the previous day, she’d dreaded approaching him. But now she had purpose, a plan to show him something about Enderley he couldn’t help but admire.
She knocked softly and received no reply, then tested the handle and stepped inside.
“Mercy,” she breathed at the sight before her.
A tall vase lay shattered in half a dozen pieces on the carpet and the duke stood over the wreckage gripping one of his father’s ornamental swords.
“It’s not what it looks like,” he said in a defensive tone. “I did not attack the pottery.”
“Certainly not.” Mina glanced from the sword to the broken antiquity to the irritation on the duke’s face. “You’re just standing over it with a weapon drawn.”
“I removed the sword from the wall to have a closer look and... collided with the bauble.” He stared down at the scattered shards. “Was it worth a lot of money?”
“Who knows. It was a piece Eustace installed after one of his jaunts to Europe.” Mina shrugged, strangely less concerned with the broken vase than with the outing she hoped the duke would agree to. “Would you care to accompany me on a short journey?”
At her words, the duke snapped his gaze up from his perusal of the broken shards at his feet. “Yes.”
Mina couldn’t hold back a smile at hearing the single word spoken so eagerly. “You don’t even know where we’re going.”
“You’re right. Perhaps I should know more.” The duke’s mouth twitched as he laid his father’s sword on his desk, sidestepping the pieces of porcelain on the carpet. “Does it involve heights or crumbling masonry?”
“Neither, I’m happy to say. Just a bit of fresh country air and a well-run farm.”
“A farm?” He braced his arms across his chest and frowned. “Not the seaside?”
He sounded so disappointed that for a moment Mina imagined venturing with him to a place that had nothing to do with duty and Enderley. But it wasn’t why she’d sought him out.
She had a plan and much she wished to show him.
“I think you’ll find much to interest you at the Wilcox farm.”
He cast her a dubious look, then the edge of his mouth quirked in an inscrutable smile. “We’ll see, Miss Thorne.”
Nick let out a grunt when a rut in the country road they were traveling pushed Mina’s body closer to his. Their thighs had been locked against each other for a quarter of an hour, and her arm brushed his every time she shifted the reins.
She’d opted to take the pony cart, with its very narrow seat and Nick was beginning to wonder if she’d meant the conveyance to be quicker to prepare or simply a means of torturing him with her sweet-scented nearness.
“Isn’t it lovely?” she asked for the third time about some feature on the estate.
First, it was the glittering arched roof of the conservatory his mother had loved so well, then the topiaries a groundskeeper had carved with unexpected whimsy, and now she pointed at an old flint stone wall that Barrowmere’s villagers had constructed ages before either of them were born.
Nick turned to look at her—the strands of hair fluttering against her cheek, the sharp line of her upturned nose, the soft curve of her chin.
“Yes, lovely indeed,” he agreed, as he had every time.
This time she seemed to take his meaning, to realize he was watching her and not the passing scenery. She turned to look at him, her gaze soft and searching.
“Mina—”
“The farm is just ahead,” she said breathily, then turned the cart onto a narrow path girded by a low stone wall.
There was much he wanted to say to her, and so much he couldn’t explain. He’d kissed her and then barked at her. She’d have questions. She always did. But he couldn’t give her answers. He’d never told anyone about his time inside the tower’s dank walls.
When she pulled the carriage to a stop, Nick jumped down and offered a hand to help her down. Neither of them wore gloves, and the slide of her bare skin sent warmth dancing up his arm and shot a flare of heat straight to his groin.
