“Kenneth,” she rasped, her voice trembling a little. He was too close, and she felt like he could read her mind. “Y-you came.”
“Gertie said you were very ill. She said you were burning,” he said, his voice calmer than his demeanor. He reached for herforehead, planting his palm over it. Then, the same hand slid down to her neck. She almost thought he was going to squeeze, remembering Malcolm’s comment about choking. But no, his thumb merely rubbed her pulse point.
Oh, God. He knows.
“Your maid said you could not breathe,” he continued, eyes holding hers.“She said that you might die.”
Madeline looked up at him, her heart racing inside her chest. Yes, right now, she could not breathe. Still, the sight of the tension in his jaw brought her a little feeling of triumph.
He cares about me?
“Y-you need not be afraid,” she stammered, placing her hand on the one he had by her neck. “I feel better now.”
Kenneth’s hand stiffened under hers. It did not pull away from under hers. Instead, his fingers slightly tightened around her neck. She could swear that he could see the guilt in her eyes. Her cheeks burned.
“Afraid?” Kenneth echoed. His voice had dipped dangerously low. He slowly withdrew his hand, pulling it from under hers.
Then, he stood over her, using his full height, his face devoid of emotion. But somehow, she could feel something emanating from him in waves. Fury. Or was it merely her imagination?
“So, you thought I would be afraid, Madeline?” he asked.
This time, the mask slid on his face once more. Even his voice had taken a monotonous tone.
“You ran here, did you not?” she guessed. “You did not even put your coat on, and I can tell you are not coming fromyourchambers. You care for me, and you were afraid something happened to me.”
“I came as soon as I heard from your maid that you are in distress,” he said flatly. “What do you think people will say if I cannot take care of my own wife in my own house?”
Madeline’s optimism froze the smile that was slowly forming on her lips. She felt disappointment like a hard slap. She kept his eyes on him. He was the picture of composure. Whatever she saw earlier could well have been her imagination. Her attempts to appeal to his fear had failed.
“Oh, I should have tried the spiders, then.”
“The spiders?” he repeated.
“Alexander suggested that you may be afraid of spiders,” she admitted. She was never going to be good at deception. Her honesty would soon bubble up before she could stop it. “I was told that a messy room might be a possible fear. Alexander and Emily seem to think that you are afraid of the mess they sometimes make. It might then be a miscalculation on my part to think that a life-threatening fever could make you feel… afraid.”
Kenneth stared at her. He was mostly expressionless and unaffected, except for that tic in his jaw.
“You pretended to be very ill,” he said, the words sounding like an accusation, “just to see if I would be afraid?”
“I... I wanted to see if you can feel, Kenneth! If there is a heart beneath that chest,” Madeline cried, losing all pretense of illness. Her temper flared, and she wanted to jump out of bed and pummel his chest with her fists. “Now, I can tell that Iam wrong. You are made of marble. Your fears are probably all about your ledgers, and I have called you from your study!”
“I am not afraid of spiders,” he said. “I am not afraid of messy rooms, ghosts, or even unpolished surfaces. These are not the sort of things I am afraid of, Madeline.”
“Then what are you afraid of?” she asked, tilting her chin up. “What could have an effect on the brave Duke of Huntington? I want to know before I am tempted to make another attempt at pretending I am on death’s bed to get a reaction from you.”
Kenneth took a deep breath and sat on the edge of her bed once more. He planted his firm hands on her hips, keeping her still. She could not breathe. Perhaps they needed to call the physician after all.
“Failure, Madeline,” he whispered. “That is what I am afraid of.”
“Failure?” she echoed, as she blinked her eyes. Her focus was no longer on his words but on his warm hands on her hips.
“Failing at my responsibilities to this estate and to the name I now carry. The failure to protect what belongs to me,” he said, again dropping his voice into something that vibrated under her skin.
“Even your fears are irrational, Kenneth,” Madeline remarked, letting out a huff of laughter. Yet, she did not find anything he said funny at all, and her voice sounded shaky, even to her ears. She tried to slide from under his grasp. “Now, if you will excuse me, I believe I must go to the kitchens and fetch myself some warm milk. I cannot disturb Gertie a second time tonight.”
He would not budge. He pressed her down to her bed, gently but firmly.
“You are going nowhere,” he declared.
