“Xander, please.”
She gasped.Even some of her friends were uncomfortable calling their betrothed by their first names.Here she was, a servant.“I could not!”
He growled.
“Your Gr—my lord.Please.You have asked for my help with learning this…life.Using someone’s first name beyond your closest circle is simply not done.By order of familiarity, you should accept Your Grace, Rutland, my lord, and then a nickname or Xander to only your closest circle.”
“Blazes.Fine, then.Rutland, I suppose.Might as well become accustomed to answering to it.”
“Still not appropriate for someone who works for you, but I understand, er, Rutland.Let’s delay the invitations to another day.Perhaps you can sort them by date of the event, and we can prioritize them that way.Have you read the bills?”
“A few of them.I have opinions on them, but I am worried they will be unpopular given my background.As you say, they might come up at the social gatherings, I wish to avoid saying the wrong thing.”
“Understandable, my lord—Rutland.”She corrected herself.“Might I take those and read them between now and tomorrow to discuss with you?”
He arched the ducal brow again.“What?You won’t know all of them from perusing the title over my shoulder?”
She arched a brow.If he could be snide, so could she.“Perhaps, but I’d rather be certain.’Tis your reputation on the line.”
* * * *
Evie had been sure the duke would have to vouch for her to get reading time, but the housekeeper accepted her need for daylight hours to go through the documents Evie showed her.The senior staff members had accepted the new duke’s unconventional method of running the house and adjusted accordingly.
Having been in the household for the better part of a month, Evie was impatient for knowledge to inform her true purpose, and whether or not to encourage the duke to accept the marriage contract.Determined to obtain an inkling of where Xander’s thoughts were on some of the more controversial bills, she waited for the household to settle for the night.Once in her nightclothes, she braided her hair for sleep, enjoying the freedom from the infernal, itchy mobcap she had to wear by day.Then, carrying her slippers, she slipped out of her narrow servant’s room and down the back stairs, past the first floor with the duke’s private quarters and bedchambers for guests, to the ground level.She slid her footwear on before approaching the library.There, she eased inside around the half-open door and aimed for his desk.
She leaned over the desk to light the gas lamp, not quite daring to go around and sit in the duke’s chair.Sliding the pile of documents toward her, she looked for his notes.Not finding them, she turned the lamp a shade brighter to search beyond the one pile.She swore he’d had a folio near him on the desk, but it wasn’t there.
Fabric rustled behind her.
She spun around, her heart racing.
The duke lolled lengthwise on the settee, shirt untucked, one foot up on the arm, the other on the ground.His arm was thrown up over his head on the arm behind it.And his eyes were open, staring at her.
She bent a knee, beginning a curtsy.
He growled, and she straightened quickly.Nodding, she tried to brazen it out.“Rutland.”
“What the hell are you doing?”
Belatedly, she spied the folio laying open on the low table in front of the settee.Devil it.
“I—I thought one bill was missing a page.”
“You cannot think I’ll believe that you were reading at this time of night.I am quite sure servants are only allotted one candle for their chambers.Frankly, given what I saw, any more would singe the walls, those rooms are so tiny.”
Of course, of all the things he’d have mastered, it had to be servants’ allotments.She sighed.
“You are correct, sir.”His brows twitched at that moniker, but she ignored it.“I did not want to interfere with your day, so I thought I’d look for it now.”
He rose and stretched, his dratted open-necked shirt dragging along his muscular torso, before striding over to stand within arm’s length.
“Well, now you’ve interrupted my night.”He stared down at her, his eyes pools of darkness in the planes of light and shadow playing over his face.His curls were in even more disarray than by day, and when he scrubbed a hand over his chin, she could hear the rasp of stubble.
Her heart raced, and heat twinged low in her belly.She licked her lips.
His gaze dropped to her mouth, eyelids remaining lowered.His Adam’s apple bobbed.
The heat pouring off him singed her through her nightrail and wrapper, and she shivered.
