Theodore stepped back and gestured for Phoebe to follow. Mrs. Morton fell into step beside him with Phoebe trailing behind. Theodore felt Mrs. Morton’s gaze on his face.
“A problem, Mrs. Morton?” he kept his voice low so that Phoebe would not hear.
Mrs. Morton hesitated, chewing her bottom lip. “I would not presume to question your judgement Your Grace. While it would not be my preference to disrupt Lady Phoebe’s schedule, I can see the logic. She does have a deep love of nature. Perhaps I can spark her interest in writing with the promise of learning more about flowers.”
“Botany is useful, though she will need other skills if she is to secure her future.” Theodore nodded and glanced over his shoulder as they walked into the garden.I will not let my sister down again.
He watched as Phoebe moved a little way away from them, making a beeline for the flowers as he knew she would. He turned to face Mrs. Morton, who clasped her hands together.
“I had hoped that relating more things to plants might help her take a greater interest in her lessons. And while she loves to draw flowers, when it comes to writing or anything else for that matter, it is a real struggle to get her to do it.” Mrs. Morton shook her head. “She is clever, that much is clear, she can learn.”
“It is simply a question of will.” Theodore ran a hand through his hair.
Out of the corner of his eye, Theodore saw movement. Phoebe was standing near an ivy-covered tree, peering through it as though looking at something. He frowned, taking a step towards her.
He saw a flash of blue, and his heart sped up. Someone was on the grounds, and they were far too close to his niece for comfort. He moved silently, arching around so that he would approach the trespasser unseen.
As Theodore rounded the corner, he saw a woman wearing a pale blue dress, peering back at his niece. Her long brown hair peeked out from beneath a blue sunhat.
“I do not take kindly to trespassers.” His voice was cool and distant. “Explain why an unaccompanied woman is sneaking around my estate.”
The woman whipped round, her cheeks a delicate shade of scarlet. Her eyes reminded him of the rich green of high summer. He inhaled, the cool autumn breeze faded into a gentle summer rustle, the world growing brighter around him. On his exhale, it vanished thought the brightness remained. He frowned.
“I… You… I did not mean to… I…” The woman swallowed. “I was invited… Well… more or less.”
“More or less?” Theodore arched an eyebrow at her. “One is either invited somewhere or one is not. As this is my estate, and I have no idea who you are, I doubt I extended any invitation to you.”
“You are Theodore, Duke of Irondale?” The woman’s face paled, her green eyes widening as a strand of hair fell across her face.
Theodore felt a mad urge to brush it from her face. Deliberately, he clasped his hands behind his back as he inclined his head towards her. “I am. And you are a trespasser.”
“I… I wanted to… I wanted to find the person who wrote this.” She held out a hand towards him, an all too familiar sketch clasped in it.
Theodore’s heart swooped as he saw the sketch in the woman’s hands and recognized one of the many, many notes he had left. Before he could say anything, Phoebe rushed towards the stranger—rather, she rushed towards the sketch, her eyes ablaze, a smile on her face so broad that it made his chest ache.
He watched as his niece stopped just in front of the woman, her eyes going from her to the sketch. The woman smiled at Phoebe and to Theodore’s surprise, Phoebe’s smile did not vanish. It broadened.
“Do you like my art?” The woman asked, kneeling down beside Phoebe.
Theodore expected his niece to retreat, but she did not. “Yes.”
It was the first word he had heard her utter in days. The woman glanced towards him and then at Phoebe. “I do not think you are the one who wrote this note, but once I have found that person, you may have this.”
“You have found him.” Theodore fought to keep his excitement from building, schooling his face into cool neutrality. “And you are a year late.”
CHAPTER 3
Ayear? What does he mean? And what did he want a year ago?
The Duke towered over Harriet, his shadow falling across both Harriet and the small girl. At his words, she saw the little girl’s smile vanish. Without thinking, Harriet moved, shifting so that she was between the Duke and the child. She stood with as much dignity as she could muster, forcing herself to meet his dark gaze.
Her eyes drifted to the sharp lines of his face, to the angular jaw accented by sharply cut, jet-black hair. His eyes never left her face and Harriet’s mouth went dry.
He reminded Harriet of an oak tree. Tall, majestic, and solitary. The kind of person one’s eye would be drawn to. Her mind began to sketch him and the tree as one – both handsome.What is wrong with me?
Belatedly, she realized the implications of the Duke’s words. “What do you mean? You left this note a year ago?”How long has he been trying to find me?Whyhas he been trying to find me?
“This is not the place for this conversation.” The Duke waved to someone behind Harriet. “Mrs. Morton, kindly take Phoebe back to her lessons. I have much to discuss with our guest.”
