Page 57 of The Duke of a Thousand Desires

“I beg your pardon, but I nodded off the minute I sat on the bed. You wouldn’t want to come upon me as I sleep most nights.”

“I’ll remember that in future.”

He rose with a great yawn and grabbed the frock coat slung over the bed. She eyed his figure covertly. He might be brash, but he looked muscular, threatening even. She pitied the intruder who crossed his path, and the woman -- great heavens, what a thought. At a time like this.

“I patrolled the grounds not an hour ago,” he said, fortunately oblivious to her thoughts. “The undergardener is supposed to be on duty now. Young fool is probably drinking in the delphiniums.”

“The maid’s window faces the family vaults.”

He thrust his arms into the coat. “I know where her room is.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” she murmured, lifting her gaze primly to the wall.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“One says ‘Excuse me.’”

“For what?”

She gave a sigh. “In the improbable event that we have been mistaken for the duke and duchess and were followed from London, you are a target. Especially in that coat. It gives you a lordly air. You might want to exercise caution as you proceed.”

The compliment went over his head. He strode from the room into the hall. “I hope you don’t expect me to change.”

“You should at least put a hat on that hair,” the head maid said from outside the door where she anxiously awaited Isolde. “His grace would not be caught in his crypt looking like a scarecrow.”

Isolde frowned at this vanity. “This strange man could have galloped to the coast by now. Mr. Timpkins does not need to worry about his hair when our lives might be in jeopardy. You are armed, aren’t you, sir?”

“Always.” He patted his pocket and headed down the stairs. “Stay inside, ladies. And save a place for me at the breakfast table. I’ve a feeling this will be a fruitless chase, but one is obliged to make certain.”