Page 19 of The Remarkable Myth of a Nameless Lady
The question was met with stony silence during which he could see Owen become very aware of the way several men had gathered around Jacob. This was an unfriendly group who made it very clear in the way they held themselves that they would brook no harm coming to their Captain. Owen would be a fool not to realize that.
“Your Grace, is everything all right here?” asked the nearest.
Jacob lifted a hand to stay them, grateful for their support, though also well aware that their unconscious desire to shield him from harm had perhaps made him an enemy of his brother. “Thank you, William. But I was just leaving. Please, enjoy the revelry without me.” With that he nodded to his brother and the assembly, and took his leave.
He did not wait to see if Owen would follow or not, moving swiftly to his study where he came to stand in front of the fire, grateful to see that it had not been allowed to go out. The heat helped assuage the sudden chill he felt now that he had a moment to himself.
Owen’s eyes had narrowed in that final statement, a look that had been fleeting, but deadly in its intensity. That his brother had been put out by his arrival was clear. For the sake of the estate, and for his mother who doted on both her sons, he would have to find some way in which to manage this rivalry.
Jacob threw another log on the fire, knowing he should call a servant to build it up properly but unable to summon the energy to deal with one more person tonight. His time at sea had taught him to shift for himself in moments of crisis, what was one fire to him now? He used the long poker to shift things around until the fire came up brightly, sending long shadows chasing across the floor.
Tired suddenly, Jacob flung himself into the nearest armchair to think. The dance of the flames was hypnotic. The warmth of the fire had a soporific effect. The day had been long, and the night made even more so by the impromptu arrival of his guests. He could not remember the last moment he’d had to himself.
I think perhaps it was when she came into the room.
That blasted tray. But as much as he tried, he could not regret that particular interruption. Maybe his last moments alone had been those that had preceded her arrival, but his last moments where he’d felt truly at peace had been while they’d talked, and he’d seen for the first time her shy smile and the way curls framed her face so prettily when she ducked her head.
Jealousies, conspiracies—what were they to a pretty face coupled with a keen wit and a shining sense of humor? Jacob’s eyes drifted closed. Let him take the impish serving girl into his dreams, where they might converse again.
Chapter 13
Heart beating wildly within her breast, Alicia stared at the sleeping figure by the fire.
The Duke is here, in his study. He should have been in the drawing room with his guests. Why is he here?
The problem was, she’d strode into the study with such confidence that the room would be empty, she’d been halfway to the Duke’s desk before she’d realized he was there. Now, to escape, she would have to go past him again, and pray to whatever gods that had kept him asleep thus far that he remained so until after she’d left.
Alicia held her breath and turned.
Behind her the sleeper stirred, making a strange sound that might have been a word. One that sounded strangely like, “lass.”
Terrified that she had been discovered, Alicia remained frozen for several long moments, shoulders hunched as waiting upon a blow that never came. A soft snore told her she was being foolish. He had only murmured in his sleep. Relaxing enough to turn her head, she shifted her gaze upon the sleeping man’s face.
The Duke was truly a handsome man. A tumble of dark hair fell over his forehead, giving him a boyish look. This was a man who seemed gentle, almost innocent, in repose. His face was too pale by far, with the strain of the day showing around his mouth and eyes. His hands twitched restlessly, and she wondered if he were dreaming, and if so, what brought that look of consternation and even fear to his face.
She moved without thinking, wanting to see him better, needing to understand this man whom she had been ordered to make her adversary. This was the man she had been raised to hate, yet could not find the emotion within her now as she watched him slumber. He seemed only a man, and a tired one at that. The few times she’d spoken to him, he had been kind.
He is English, she reminded herself, but even that word did not hold the condemnation it should have. Even among his guests, had she been treated rudely by any of them? The ladies had been insistent, even urgent in their desires, but there had been several who had smiled and thanked her when she’d accomplished the task they had given her.
The Duke’s mother, though, was another matter. But was it fair to condemn all of these British invaders for the actions of a handful of people who had proven, at worst, unpleasant? They had certainly not seemed entirely evil as she had been led to believe.
It was a confusing moment, triggered by lips that were parted in repose that left her with a yearning to find what a kiss upon those lips would mean. Alicia took another step, not away from the man, but toward him, feeling a yearning within her that she had never before experienced.
The Duke was a beautiful man. Kind. Powerful.
Evil. Her enemy.
Her hands bunched into fists at her sides, clutching the soft material of her apron. She had a job to do and here she was wool-gathering when she could have used this time to find what she needed. He had stayed asleep this long, would it really be so difficult to get what she needed and to leave? How hard should it be to find a list?
Alicia turned to regard the desk. The stack of books arranged in a neat tower were meaningless to her. It was the papers strewn across the top that held information that might be of use. If she were quiet enough, careful enough, then it was fully possible she could find the list after all.
The Duke shifted again, another soft snore. She jumped and glanced at him, undecided. One hand rose to touch her cheek, to the ghost of the imprint of her father’s hand. He would be angry if she did not do as he asked. For all she knew, the Duke would remain here the entire night. Would she have another chance?
Why must this be so complicated?She bit her lip anxiously. By not doing what she was told she was betraying her father whom right now she hated, but it also meant betraying the memory of her brother.
With a muffled cry that she only just bit back, Alicia moved toward the desk, her feet treading lightly and carrying her there in an instant. Here she paused, her hands flat upon the very stack of papers that she needed to examine, while she again studied the Duke who had not stirred so much as an inch. Breathing out a quick sigh of relief, she glanced down at the first page, and then the next.
Nothing. Nothing but notes on wool and pigs. Schedules and shipping and a dozen other meaningless notes. Nothing whatsoever regarding the ball, save a beautifully penned invitation that she slipped into the pocket of her apron.
