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“It is beautiful,” Anthony murmured, watching her face closely. “Also you are right. It is not a trinket. I should not have called it that.”

“It is everything,” Leonora whispered. She carefully closed the box, holding it tightly against her chest as if someone might try to snatch it away. She looked up at Anthony, her defenses entirely stripped away for the very first time since they met. “Thank you.”

Anthony did not smile. He simply stared down at her, his eyes darkening. The silence in the study stretched out. The sound of the rain drumming against the glass filled the space between them.

“You are bleeding,” he noted softly, staring at her hand.

Leonora blinked, looking down at her left hand. A thin red scratch ran straight across the back of her wrist, ending near her knuckles. A few tiny drops of blood had beaded on the surface of her skin. She had not even felt it happen.

“Oh,” Leonora said, dismissively. “It must have been the tortoiseshell cat. She was quite suspicious of my boots when I first sat down. It is nothing, truly.”

She tried to tuck her hand behind the folds of her skirt. She did not want to look foolish or clumsy in front of him, but Anthony was faster. He reached out and caught her wrist before she could pull away.

Leonora gasped softly, her eyes flying up to his face.

His grip was gentle, but it was immovable. His fingers were warm, and the sudden physical contact sent a shudder down her spine. She had never been this close to a man before, let alone a man as imposing as the Duke of Glenhaven. She could feel the heat radiating from his chest, and suddenly, she could smell everything. She could smell him. It was pleasant smell.

“Let me go,” Leonora said, though her voice came out breathless and weak.

“Hold still,” Anthony commanded in a low voice, holding on to her hand.

Leonora felt a hot, furious blush creeping up her neck and flooding her cheeks. She was a grown woman, a clever, independent woman who argued with anyone without breaking a sweat. Yet here she was, blushing like a flustered schoolgirl simply because he was touching her wrist. It was ridiculous and she would not have it. She gave a small, stubborn tug, trying to pull her hand back.

Anthony’s fingers simply tightened a fraction, keeping her exactly where he wanted her to be. He did not look at her face. His entire focus was fixed on the small scratch on her hand.

With his free hand, he reached into the breast pocket of his coat and pulled out a square handkerchief made of white linen.

“It is just a scratch,” Leonora protested again, her heart hammering violently against her ribs. The proximity was overwhelming. He was standing so close she could see the tiny, lighter flecks of gold hidden in the depths of his blue eyes.

“Cat scratches can easily fester if they are not cleaned and covered,” Anthony replied smoothly, ignoring her protest entirely. “My grandmother has a vast array of ointments upstairs, but this will have to do for now.”

He wrapped the cool linen handkerchief around her wrist. His movements were slow, like he was taking his sweet time. He folded the fabric neatly, making sure it covered the red line completely. Leonora watched his hands working. Every time his knuckles brushed against her bare skin, a fresh wave of heat washed over her. She felt entirely trapped, but she had to admit that he was probably more stubborn than she was and he would not let go even if she protested. So she stood still and let him help.

Anthony tied a neat, firm knot over her pulse point. He lingered for a moment, his thumb brushing gently over the linen knot, pressing lightly against her wildly beating pulse. He had to feel how fast her heart was racing. There was absolutely no way he could miss it.

Slowly, he lifted his head. His eyes locked onto hers, and the air in the study suddenly felt too thick to breathe in. For one long, breathless moment, neither of them moved. Leonora felt as though she were pinned to the spot by his gaze alone. She clutched the box against her chest with her free hand, completely unable to look away from him.

Finally, Anthony released her wrist. His hand dropped away, leaving her skin feeling strangely cold where his warmth had been just a second before.

“There,” he said. “You can return the handkerchief to me tomorrow.”

Leonora immediately took a large step backward, desperate to put some safe space between them. She rubbed her thumb over the linen knot, her mind scrambling to find a clever response to regain the upper hand. But her brain was completely useless.

“I will have my maid wash it,” she managed to say, her voice slightly shaky.

“Do not bother,” he replied softly. “I will take it exactly as it is.”

Leonora swallowed hard, feeling completely out of her depth. She needed to leave this room before she did something entirely foolish, like ask him why he was looking at her like that. She turned toward the locked door, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves.

“Well,” Leonora said, reaching for the brass key in the lock. “I suppose I should return upstairs before your grandmother wakes up and starts planning the seating arrangements for the wedding breakfast.”

“Miss Ashcroft,” Anthony called out just as she turned the key.

Leonora paused, resting her hand on the doorknob. She looked back over her shoulder.

He was still standing by the desk, leaning comfortably on it. He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, looking entirely relaxed and devastatingly handsome.

“Thank you,” Anthony said. “For going along with the plan. I know it was not what you expected, but I am grateful.”