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Rhys smothered a yawn, dipping his head to watch the manner in which Miss Beaujeu’s fingers smoothed the ointment, and he wished – just for an instant because it was a nonsensical wish – he wished likewise to impede a bullet, just so he could feel those slender fingers upon his chest, sliding with ease and–
“Then he shot me,” ended Hugh with a flourish.
Most ladies oooed or aahhed or both at these tales. Miss Beaujeu hoisted a disbelieving eyebrow and poked him in the arm. “You’ll live,” she pronounced.
Hugh squinted at the wound which now resembled a cowpat. “Kill or cure, for certain.” He raised his shirt to cover his chest like a virgin with her night-rail. “Well, my thanks, Miss Beaujeu. I’m to bed for a stiff whisky and a few verses of Byrne.”
“You enjoy Byrne?” enthused Miss Beaujeu, capping the jar. “I’m particularly fond of him also.”
“Are you now? As is our duke here.” And with a wink, he stalked across the room, flexing his shoulders for show before shutting the study door behind him.
“Bloody Cadwalader,” muttered Rhys.
“Well,I should also… Good night, Your Grace,” Isabelle said rather more stridently than the ambience demanded, too aware of the events that had occurred the last time they’d been in the study. Alone. At night.
The duke’s expression had returned to Mean, Moody and, ergo, Mysterious, which induced an odd tilting of her stomach, a latent warmth sneaking into her veins. Perhaps the Scandalous Mr Cadwalader was correct regarding the brandy-infused chocolate.
“If you’ve a moment,” the duke said a little hesitantly, “and you’re not too weary, could I ask you to recount the events of this afternoon?” He motioned to a comfortable chair, his eyes serious and pitch.
“Of course, but I’ll stand, if I may, Your Grace. And I’m sure it was just a gust of wind.” Yet she recounted as he’d asked – needless to say omitting her overwrought fright and the nightmares that had provoked it.
“Did you recognise the voice?”
“No, and as I said, it could have carried on the breeze from anywhere.”
“Indeed.” The duke prowled to the window and glared out. A streak of lightning split the sky, casting him to bone before a distant rumble of thunder trailed in its wake. “Well, thank you for your time, Miss Beaujeu.”
Isabelle dithered aside the fire. She ought to retire abed. She’d been dismissed. Yet…
The Duke of Aberdare braced his fists to the window frame, shoulders slumped, and despite a house chock-full of guests, he appeared so alone. His coat was misplaced, the back laces of his waistcoat loosened and cravat dishevelled.
There was nothing to see outside; the rain lashed the panes in squally shrieks.
“Are you yourself…well, Your Grace?” she attempted. “You seem a little…” Moody? “Melancholic?”
“I’m quite well,” he murmured, staring out into the nothingness.
“In that case, I shall…”
“How’s Mari tonight?”
“Oh. Exhausted, I believe. She was asleep before the rain began.”
“Good.” He swivelled, appeared so weary, shadows rimming his eyes like a coalman’s thumbprint.
Isabelle had forever vowed to keep her distance from the lives of the gentry she was employed by, as one could too easily become attached, consider their house a home, their household one’s family.
Then the employment would come to an end and they would pat you on the shoulder for work well done, mayhap slip a few extra guineas into your palm and then close the front door behind you, returning to their lives, their families.
But…
She recalled this duke’s protectiveness of her the night of the ball. His concern for her welfare at the tower today and it felt churlish to now ignore the pain she’d gleaned in his own manner.
“I am a good listener, Your Grace.”
She thought he might twist away or dismiss her…
Instead, he strode to the decanters, poured two glasses and handed her one. He took a gulp. “I worried for Mari because… It… It was an afternoon of thunder such as this when my brother drowned, you see. A day that began radiant and calm enough, before, without warning, the clouds rolled in, yielding torrential rain and deafening thunder. I cannot see such storms without…” He shook his head.
