Gathering her shawl more tightly about her shoulders, she advanced into the room.
“Good morning,” she said, in a voice made tender by his obvious delight.
“Good morning.” He rose from his seat. “I trust you slept and”—his voice deepened—“dreamtwell.”
The indentation in his right cheek left no doubt he was teasing.
Though her face heated, she couldn’t help but indulge him with a brow lift of her own. A comfortable silent moment passed. She’d rarely experienced unspoken conversation with anyone but her twin Eliza, and never with anyone outside of her family circle, especially not with a man…
But he was not just any man; he was now her family, too, was he not?
Her own children might have his features. His chin, for instance. Or his smile. Her heart skipped a beat as he rounded the table and then pulled out her seat.
“Iamcapable of adjusting my own chair,” she said, again amused.
“Of course you are,” he replied indulgently. “But a man is never made happier than when he can be of service.”
Was he still teasing, or was he being sincere?
Perhaps service did make him happy.
That would be consistent with some of the things she’d recently observed about him. If so, how wrong her initial impression had been! Since then, she had plenty of proof that Harbury—a man she and Eliza had deemed hopelessly arrogant and self-indulgent on the night he’d swept her into a waltz without permission—could also be sensitive and thoughtful.
“May I make you a plate?” he asked, demonstrating her point.
“Please do,” she replied, interested to see how he’d accomplish his mission. She seated herself to quell any temptation to supervise. “When you said man is made happier by service, were you referring to humankind in general, or males as a category?”
Or yourself in particular?
She tried to add the latter, butno. She wasn’t brave enough. Not yet…
She still wasn’t sure if he had an unusual sensitivity, an awareness of the feelings of those around him. Or perhaps, like her, he simply attempted to please everyone around him.
One thing she could say of the duke…he was observant. He returned with the same assortment she’d arranged for herself the first time they’d breakfasted together.
He laid down the plate. “I would not presume to speak for all mankind,” he answered her question, though his continued twinklesuggested he presumed much. And often.
She held his gaze as she thanked him.
Briefly, he touched her cheek before returning to his seat. The gesture had been spontaneous. But his touch had made her feel cared for and comforted, and the warm sensation that followed left her a little shy.
“What is your opinion?” he asked, looking as if he honestly wanted to know what she thought.
She paused, giving the question serious consideration. First as a universal—was mankind made happier by service?Yes.But she didn’t think his question was of a philosophical bent. He wanted to know her motivation. He wanted to knowher.
“I enjoy being of service,” she replied carefully. “Eliza tells me I am never happier than when I am needed.”
In fact, when she’d told Eliza she’d proposed to Harbury, Eliza had accused her of proposing not just because she wanted to save their reputations, but because their godmother, Lady Asquith, and Harbury’s sister, Lady Sarah, had both separately suggested marriage—and notjustmarriage, but marriageto her—would do Harbury a world of good.
Eliza had been right, but only in part.
Cassiehadtaken what they’d said to heart. But yesterday she’d realized she’d used his perceived need as an excuse to claim him, when the real reason had been as simple as it had been selfish. She’d desired Harbury. And she’d set out to have him.
Her eyes dropped to her plate.
“Oh?” He hummed thoughtfully. “You may be physically identical, but something tells me your twin does not share your giving nature.”
She glanced up, smiling half-heartedly. “No,” she acknowledged. “Eliza is not as…accommodating as I am.”
