Page 28 of The Wolf and the Wildflower
There was a momentary silence as if the duke considered if he should deign to answer her curiosity.
“Several local builders at my direction.”
“This was done since your return?”
“They were handsomely rewarded for their discretion, skill, and the timeframe in which they accomplished what I needed.”
Jules recalled then the duchess’s frustration that the duke spent many hours in the woods daily away from the main estate. This was the duke’s place of comfort. A sanctuary. Jules suspected this space was not empty but filled with the things he might consider essential.
And he is sharing it with me.
Was this his first exchange of truth? Her heart lurched in the oddest manner, the ache spreading from that unfathomable organ to her entire body. Odder even, Jules felt warmed and extraordinarily pleased. She cast him a sidelong glance to note that he was intently watching her.
“It is beautiful,” she said softly, holding herself still underneath his bold appraisal.
“It is peaceful.”
“It is also lonely.”
“Being alone does not mean one suffers from aloneness, Southby,” he drawled. “Should you of all people not know this?”
“It has been my experience they are more often than not the same and—” She stopped herself abruptly, wondering at her ease at revealing herself to him. Jules flushed at the sudden intent way he stared at her, glancing away from his probing regard.
“I am interested in your experiences, Southby. It is one of the reasons you are here at this very moment.”
Jules drew in a slow breath. “I—”
From the forest came the unmistakable sound of footsteps, forestalling the need to reply. Boots trampled closer and she whirled around to see a lad of about ten years walking toward them, a pheasant hanging from his grip. It was cleaned and ready to be cooked. Jules stared as the lad reached into a bag tied to his belt and rubbed the large bird with what appeared to be crushed herbs. The lad then spitted the bird and began to build a fire beneath the pheasant on the stick.
“David here is my attempt at civility,” the duke murmured, a hint of amusement in his tone.
“What do you mean?”
“He is my valet and my man of affairs.”
“David cannot be more than ten,” she said drily. “How can he be adept at such roles?”
“He is twelve, very discreet, efficient, and clever. A good lad for the jobs I need him for, and he is handsomely compensated. He provides for his family of seven.”
“Is David your only valet?”
“Yes.”
Jules almost smiled thinking of how out of sorts the duchess must be at that. “You might need to procure another helper, Your Grace. A proper valet.”
“Because a duke must have people to dress him, bathe him, make his bed, put on his shoes. It is a damn wonder I am even allowed to even clean my own arse.”
This bit was drawled with mocking cynicism. Jules choked on the air, hurrying to slap a hand over her mouth.
His gaze gleamed. “Why stop your laugh? It is a lovely sound.”
Lovely?That strange sensation once again kindled inside her chest. “It is very unprofessional to do so.”
He lifted a brow but made no comment on her lapse. “David is my helper, and I need no other meddling around.”
The little boy’s chest puffed with pride.
Jules stepped forward and bowed. “I am very pleased to meet you, David.”
