Page 51 of A Duke Changes Everything
Mina swallowed down the irritation of being addressed formally again. She told herself it was better. Proper. Exactly how a duke and his steward should speak to one another.
“He wishes to call on you tomorrow, Your Grace. He fancies himself an inventor and wants to talk to you about a thresher.”
“So he wants my money.”
“His idea sounds like a useful invention. Do you not invest in new inventions?”
“On occasion. Usually at the behest of my friend Iverson. He’s the champion of inventors.”
“You helped people today. An invention like Colin’s would be another way of doing so. If you’ve decided to stay longer—”
“I haven’t.”
His brow was smooth now, but she felt her own pinch in lines of worry. “But you told Mrs. Shepard—”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“In the last half an hour?”
Before he could answer, the carriage stopped in front of Enderley. The duke jumped out first and began striding away. Then he seemed to remember chivalry and turned back to offer his hand and help her down.
Mina didn’t need his assistance, but she wanted the opportunity to press him. “Why have you changed your mind about staying for the Christmas dance?”
He came one step closer, and Mina found the carriage at her back and Nicholas Lyon towering in front of her, his body a few inches away.
“There are good people here. I do see that. But what I feel for Enderley will never change.” He swallowed and lifted a hand as if he might touch her face, but instead he rested his palm on the stretch of carriage next to her head. “I’ve become distracted. I came here with a plan, and I intend to see it through. When the three weeks are over, I need to be able to leave all this behind.”
She knew he meant the estate, his duty to the villagers, whatever blighted history he had with his father. But he was looking at her face intently, his gaze shifting from her eyes to her mouth.
He leaned in, until his nose brushed the edge of her face. His breath came fast and hot against her cheek. “I need to be able to leave you behind.” The low husky timbre of his voice ignited shivers across skin. “Every day that gets harder to do.”
He dipped his head and placed a tender kiss at the corner of her mouth. Then he stepped back, turned on his boot heel, and started away. Not to the house, but toward the field beyond the stable.
“Where are you going?” Mina called after him.
He clenched his fists, increasing his pace as he strode into the distance. “I need a walk.”
Chapter Thirteen
Hours later, Mina lay in her bed and stared up at the ceiling, tracing the cracks in the plaster and shadowy smoke stains she knew by heart. In the two years she’d slept in this room, she’d identified various geometric shapes—a sphere here, an ellipse there, a hat-shaped trapezoid in the far corner.
Tonight, all her thoughts pulled her toward the man sleeping one floor below. He couldn’t know that the guest room Mrs. Scribb had set aside for him was directly under her bedchamber. And, of course, she’d never confess to anyone that she listened to him moving around in the wee hours of the night.
A faint creaking noise sounded in the darkness and she held her breath. She recognized the groan of the bed frame and imagined Nicholas settling onto the guest chamber mattress.
Minutes later another sound echoed up. A moan? A murmur? She couldn’t quite make it out.
Then quiet descended again. Mina pressed two fingers against her breastbone. A familiar ache pinched there, a sense of emptiness that always seemed to plague her at night.
She reached for the copy ofAesop’s Fablesshe kept on her bedside table. When she opened the familiar pages, words melded into a blur. The outlines of a sharp, straight nose, full lips, and a prominent brow emerged from the blob of ink.
Stop thinking about the man.
He wasn’t her problem to solve. Let him keep his mysteries. Soon, he’d return to London and Enderley would be peaceful and quiet. They’d made do between Eustace’s death and Nicholas Lyon’s arrival, and they’d carry on after he’d gone.
Of course, her mornings would seem oddly empty without the sounds of his murmured curses as he wandered his father’s study. In less than a fortnight, she’d gotten used to glancing out her office door and catching a glimpse of him pacing a path in the carpet in front of his father’s desk.
She’d grown fond of his scent and the belly-tickling timbre of his voice.
