Page 70 of Distracting the Duke

“Do you ever arrange things to suit other people?” she inquired, taking a large gulp of her wine.

“You’re speaking of charity, I assume—doing that which will improve the lot of those less fortunate than ourselves. Yet when we offer charity, is that not in itself a selfish act? Because we know how good it will make us feel?”

She gazed up at him, and he hoped he was wearing an expression of benign innocence. Just in case he wasn’t, he reached down and offered her a honey and hazelnut pastry.

After a few bites, she said, “I suppose it is a little selfish, but that shouldn’t stop us from performing charitable acts.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said, topping up her glass again. “And while we are talking of virtues, I believe forgiveness is considered a charitable act.”

She took another deep swallow of her wine, then narrowed her eyes at him. “Where is this conversation leading, Marcus?”

Before he could frame an answer, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Dawlish, his footman, was hastening across the lawn toward them.

“Ah, excuse me. Dawlish has come to tell me the image I wanted to capture is now visible.”

“I beg your pardon? What image?”

“Sorry, but it can’t wait. I need the light to be perfect, and the shadows in a particular position. I’ll do a quick sketch and be back directly.”

“Marcus, I—” But before she could finish her sentence, he’d abandoned his plate on the cushion beside her, nodded his apology to his other guests, and headed back to the house.

He could feel her eyes on his back as he strode away. She would follow him. She must follow him.

He just had to hope he wasn’t about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

“I say, where’s Marcus going at such a pace? Lady Clara, what did he say to you?” asked Lord Snettisham.

She shook her head in confusion. “I don’t know,” she said, wishing she’d not drunk her wine so quickly when she was both tired and hot. It was making her feel giddy.

“Oh, well, I daresay he’ll be back when the fancy takes him,” said Snettisham equably.

Sarah said, “He likes disappearing off, doesn’t he? But I can’t fault his table or his cellars.”

“Aye,” echoed Philip. “I don’t know when I last had so tender a slice of gammon. Just the kind of sustenance we need before we get home, eh, Sarah? For there’ll be things that must be attended to as soon as we reach Lawton, and it might be a while before we eat again.”

“I hope the beds will be made up and aired, as I’m almost certain to require a nap,” his wife replied.

Clara had already stopped listening to the conversation. She picked over her food, wondering why Marcus had left so precipitously just when she’d tried to talk to him. Was he really going to do some sketching in his camera obscura? She didn’t think a duke would be so ill-mannered as to leave his guests on such a whim. Unless it was all a hum and there was something else going on…

In which case she very much needed to find out what it was.

No one paid her any attention as she took up her bonnet, arranged her shawl about her shoulders, and walked off in the direction of the house. She did, however, get the distinct feeling that Philip, even though he didn’t look at her, was extremely interested in her departure.

It took a while to remember the route through the house they’d all taken when they’d come up to look at Marcus’s camera obscura and the wonderful rooftop views of the Kessington estate. But as the staircases got narrower, she recognized where she was, and in no time she was looking across the warm leads of the roof toward the camera obscura.

Picking up her skirts, she made her way across and hovered in front of the door, wondering if she should knock or just march straight in.

She chose the latter. Her eyes took a moment to get used to the gloom within and to realize that the shutter over the pinhole was still in place. She could see no sketching paper or easel, just the shadowy figure of the duke, facing the door, exactly as if he’d been waiting for her.

Well!

Before she could speak, he said softly, “You’ve come to ring a peal over me, I know.” He slipped past her and pulled the door closed.

“Oh!”

“Don’t be alarmed. The knob’s been mended, but I’ll lock the door, to make sure no one interrupts whilst you’re in mid-tirade.”