Page 152 of Dukes Are Forever
"Her friend, the verwulfen ambassador's wife, was here," Herbert volunteered. "Your wife wanted to take a walk in the nearby park, but I suggested most emphatically she remain behind."
Lena Carver.Malloryn began to draw the scarf from around his neck. What had she said to Adele to upset her? Or was it locking her inside the house? "Send for a light supper. But perhaps give us a half hour before you bring it."
Enough time to soothe Adele's ruffled feathers and remind her he was doing this to keep her safe.
One step inside the study, and there she was.
Sitting in the window seat, the late afternoon sunlight streaming over her and gilding her hair. Her hands lay in her lap and she may as well have been a statue. There was no sign of her smile. No sign of the wicked glint he'd begun to recognize in her eyes.
Malloryn's eyes narrowed. Now he was coming to know her, he could sort through her moods relatively easily.
Her Grace was not just upset.
No. Not a single sign of tears afflicted her, and she wore that cool, disaffected mask he knew so well.Walled up, her expression told him.And you are not welcome here.
This was beyond upset.
What the devil had he done?
Balling the scarf in his fist, he considered his options. He'd been avoiding her since the explosion—so many things to see to, buildings to clear, Balfour to hunt—and that was as good an excuse as any he had available. But the truth was the night of the explosion had affected him greatly, throwing an ungallant truth in his face. Exposing his heart and scraping it raw before he managed to disengage and retreat to shore up the walls that guarded it.
"Should I remove anything breakable?" he asked. "Herbert said you weren't happy about being kept inside."
"I'm not going to throw anything. It's not the sort of thing well-bred ladies do."
Trouble, his instincts warned.Definitely trouble. And it had nothing to do with being contained.
"Did you miss me?" he asked. "I thought you'd prefer to recover here after the situation, and I had many things to see to. I'm sorry if I haven't been around of late. I didn't want your nerves to—"
"Did I look like I was suffering from a bout of nerves? As I recall, it wasn't I who was undone." Those green eyes narrowed dangerously. "Unless that was just another pretense too."
No, she'd been remarkably well-balanced after all of the exhilaration. His gaze strayed to the desk, and he could see himself again, fucking his way into her like a mindless animal. Desperately kissing her, his hand sinking into her hair so he could press his lips to her throat and feel the thready kick of her pulse there.... The one that told him she was alive.
Alive and not burned in the opera attack.
Alive and not a charred mess of bones.
He slammed his way back out of the memories of how he'd felt when he stared into the flames of the opera house and thought she'd been inside. It had woken him last night, a new nightmare to add to the collection.
And the easiest way to deal with nightmares was to ignore them.
Moving slowly, he considered her as he crossed to the decanter and poured himself a brandy, tugging at his cravat. It felt tight.
"No," he said. Her eyes glittered, as if she were daring him to work her out. "No, you didn't succumb to nerves. And I'm not certain what you mean by 'pretense.' You could simply tell me what the matter is."
"It's the game that counts, isn't it?" They sounded like his own words, though he wasn't entirely certain when he'd said them to her. "And you like games. Guess."
"You're angry."
"I would have to care to be angry."
The faint press of her lips together betrayed her, as if something violent wanted to spill over the top of them. Not unflappable, after all.He focused on the faint sign of distress. If he couldn't control himself, then he'd damn well break her down to his level and bring whatever this was to the surface.
Pushing away from the desk at last, he began to tug his cravat free, feeling a little more composed now he wasn't the only one afflicted. "Oh, I think you care. I think you care far too much,Adele."
She flinched a little at the sound of her name, so soft on his lips. "Aren't you tired of the lies?"
"I wasn't aware I'd been lying. Do you have something to confess, my dear?" He wrapped his cravat around one of his knuckles, drawing the material tight.
