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‘I would not say I am the contrary one,’ she said.
He turned to her, eyes shining, lips upturned. ‘I would say you are, but with a definite purpose. You annoy her to keep her mind from dwelling on other things.’
‘I suppose I must go see how she is faring.’ But her feet didn’t move.
‘Please,’ he said. ‘Sit for a moment with me. I think you owe me,’ he said. ‘I soothed my mother and kept her from searching you out. She checked your room, by the way.’
She sat, but kept her back straight. ‘I think you are contrary, too.’
‘Very.’ He sat on the sofa, legs stretched in front of him, one booted foot rocking back and forth on its heel. ‘But you do not need to go to my mother right now. She is currently looking for my valet. I have told her when I go to London next, I am going to purchase a waistcoat and cannot decide on the right colour to go with yellow stripes. She is hoping to convince my valet of the proper garments I should buy so I do not look like I have lost my wits.’
‘She tires me. All the sadness. It just reminds me of my own. I sit with her and have to remember that I am alive today. All of yesterday is gone. I must be alive for today or I will have nothing.’
‘I just study the ledgers or read when I am lost in sad memories.’
‘Or ride your horse, or check on the stablemen or write letters to your man of affairs.’
He stared at her. ‘How do you know all that?’
‘I wake many times in the night and it is too silent. My sisters were always with me when I was young. My mother near. Now I wake up and the room is so large and I am alone in it, so I move about the house. I was— I see you writing at night. I have been in the hallway many times and noticed the light from the open library door. I hear the shuffle of your papers and your sighs.’
‘I do not sigh.’
She took in a deep breath, looked at him, parted her lips and imitated the sound of a weary sigh.
He shook his head in disagreement.
‘And you grumble. I do not even have to be near the door to hear you complaining to the paper.’
‘Next time, just walk into the room.’
She settled back into the chair and let her fingers rest on the arms. ‘You must have many sad memories if you spend so much time working not to think of them.’
‘A few. Mainly of my brother. We pretended to be jousting knights. We had fencing duels. We took our lessons together. He never was as robust as I, but I never expected him to die, even when he got very sick. I wasn’t even here at the time. Now I ask myself, how could I have not known?’
‘I hate sadness. Sometimes the duchess’s melancholy almost swallows me.’
‘She was not this way before. Not always gentle, but never was she like this. She’s not the same person.’ He raised a brow. ‘I understand quite well. If you need someone to make you angry to take your mind from your sadness, search me out. I will do my best.’ He gave a definitive nod of his head.
‘That is kind of you.’ She smiled. ‘But I don’t wish to be angry.’
‘How does a person slap you with their words?’
‘By criticising my clothes or my hair. Telling me how I should act. Disparaging my boots.’ She kicked out her hem of her dress. ‘I like my boots even if no one else does.’
Her chest flooded with warmth. His eyes. He appraised her with something she recognised as laughter, but it was also mixed with the same look Warrington often gave her sister. In this moment, she could look at the duke directly and feel cosseted by his eyes.
‘I cannot understand why your boots aren’t revered. It’s quite interesting how one even appears bigger than the other.’ His voice flowed smoothly. ‘And the toe appears to have a chunk out of it.’
‘I disarmed a trap with it.’
‘Perhaps you should have used a stick.’ He studied her and, even as he commented on her footwear, he complimented her with his eyes and voice.
‘I did the next time.’
‘I will be happy to have those beautiful boots replaced for you with an even more lovely pair.’
‘No. But thank you, Your Grace.’
‘I assure you, I can have someone fashion such suitable, extraordinary footwear that your toes will sing.’
‘You cannot have more suitable boots made for me because these are perfect. And I hope you do find a yellow-silk waistcoat with something fashionable painted on it. Perhaps blue slippers.’ She lowered her chin. ‘You would like to discuss my hair next?’
‘Hair like that...’ His eyes wandered away. ‘A man does not want to discuss it.’
She tightened her jaw.
