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For a moment, Anthony was slightly confused by her words, but then the realisation hit him, and he quickly began to shake his head. “My Lady, this is your home as much as it is mine. Everything that belongs to me also belongs to you. You need not fear using anything.”
Lady Rose looked most relieved and perhaps slightly embarrassed, and she glanced down, taking a sip of her own milk before she looked at him again and said, “Thank you, My Lord.”
“Were you planning on taking it to your room?” Anthony asked with a raised eyebrow. His wife’s expression changed then, and she looked slightly guilty, leaving him in no doubt as to the answer. Hoping to ease the tension between them, he suggested, “Please allow me to escort you back upstairs?”
She looked at him again, clearly startled by his kindness, and he was relieved when she nodded in acceptance of his offer. Picking up the candlestick that he had absentmindedly placed upon the countertop close by, Anthony offered her his elbow. When she glanced at her own candlestick, Anthony suggested, “Blow it out and leave it here. There is no need to waste both.”
Lady Rose did as he suggested, and holding her milk cup in one hand, she slipped her free hand into the crook of his elbow, allowing him to guide her back up the stairs. The warmth of her body close to his in the chill of the servants’ quarters was impossible to ignore, and Anthony found that it was only the fact that his hands were full that stopped him from doing something he might regret.
They walked in total silence to Lady Rose’s bedroom, and Anthony was entirely surprised when she turned to him and asked, “My Lord, would you like to sit and talk with me for a while? I do not feel ready to sleep.”
More than a little surprised by her willingness to remain in his presence, Anthony jumped on the opportunity.
“I will gladly keep you company, My Lady.” He smiled at her, and placing the candlestick on a nearby decorative shelf, reached out to push open her bedroom door before she could trouble herself with it. “After you.”
Though they sat at opposite ends of the chaise longue positioned near the end of the lady’s bed, almost in the centre of the room, Anthony couldn’t help feeling as though he had never been closer to her. They sat and talked well into the night, talking about nothing and everything all at once and somehow having their first meaningful conversation.
Anthony found himself admitting aloud for the first time that he was fearful of not living up to the title of duke that had been bestowed upon him, that he might fail at any moment and dig himself a hole too deep to get out of.
He was surprised when Lady Rose leaned over and placed a hand upon his where it had been resting upon the seat beside him. His warm milk was long gone, and the moment that he felt her touch, he realised his mouth had grown remarkably dry. Perhaps it was all the talking or maybe even nerves, but he quickly swallowed, attempting to ease off the sensation.
“You are a remarkable man, My Lord, unlike any duke I have ever met,” she told him, gazing at him with round and beautiful blue-green eyes that still reminded him of the clearest ocean.
“I might say the same of you, My Lady,” Anthony responded, unable to stop smiling as he added, “Though you are far too beautiful to be considered a nobleman.”
At that, the lady appeared to relax more than ever before, and for the first time, Anthony felt as though he was seeing her without anxiety, stress, or frustration. She was merely Lady Rose, beautiful and unrestrained and seductive, tilting her head back to laugh with unbridled joy at his comment.
It was a rare and beautiful glimpse into the woman’s soul, and Anthony drank it in until she dropped her gaze once more and her expression fell, causing his heart to sink.
“My Lord, I feel there is something I must tell you,” she admitted, and the strain in her voice made Anthony feel instantly sick to his stomach. Terrified at what she might be about to say, he found himself holding his breath. When she lifted her gaze to look at him again he was absolutely sure he could see tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “I … I do not even know where to begin.”
The quivering of her bottom lip caused Anthony to take his hand out from beneath hers. He gripped hold of her hand and pulled her palm close to his chest, assuring her, “My Lady, whatever it is, you can tell me.”
At that moment, Anthony felt closer to his wife than ever before. He could feel himself falling into her beautiful, tearful eyes, and although he felt himself growing lost, he was not concerned. He would happily have lost himself in her gaze for the rest of his days.
“I … I …” the lady stammered, clearly trying to find the words to tell him something especially important or even grievous to her. “My Lord, I wish for you to know that … our time together has been the best time of my life.”
Though her words appeared genuine, Anthony couldn’t help feeling as though there had been so much more she wished to say. He could see in her eyes that she was holding something back.
Having been with her every day for the last few weeks, he was adamant that he knew her far better than perhaps even she knew herself. He wanted to urge her to say more, yet knowing her as he did, he knew he could not push her. Lady Rose was her own woman, and he would not have it any other way.
She will come to me with whatever it is when she is ready,he told himself firmly, gritting his teeth to stop himself from saying something that might push her away again. Instead of speaking, he leaned forward and pressed his lips firmly against her forehead.
Leaning his face down, he pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes as he whispered, “I agree.”
Knowing that if he remained any longer, he might well push her back to avoiding him, Anthony fought his emotions and pulled back, lifting her hand to his mouth to kiss her bare knuckles. “Rest well, My Lady.”
With that, he forced himself to his feet and left abruptly, feeling Lady Rose’s longing gaze upon his back as he went.
Chapter 27
Penelope was still reeling from the ease of their conversation the next night as she lay abed wondering how she could possibly have allowed herself to get so deep into such a mess. The threatening letters had continued, yet she still could not find a way to escape.
She had considered telling the duke about the letters, only to realise she could not when she thought of what might happen if he insisted upon finding the sender. Her identity might very well hang in the balance. Her applications had gone unnoticed; her means of escaping dwindling to nothing, and yet as she lay there staring at nothing, she found she was far more concerned with the duke than herself.
She could hear him through the thin walls that separated their rooms via the small sitting room between their bedrooms. Though she usually avoided the sitting room, frightened of getting trapped by the duke during the day, she slipped from her bed to enter the room.
The noises she had been hearing for the last several minutes grew louder with every step, and as she drew close to the door that separated the sitting room from his own bedroom, she realised that what she had been hearing was distress. Several grunts were followed by whimpers, and those were followed by several angry words.
