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“The duke’s empty chamber is a message, I suppose. It represents his authority, but if it’s all undone, then it exposes his impotence as a figurehead.”
“You understand.” Relief flooded her.
“I spend a great deal of time thinking of the symbolism of the rooms I work in.”
“I admit to a great satisfaction to seeing the empty room, as if there is no duke at all. But I am also eager to see every mark of the Hawthorne legacy in the entire house struck from the record and rebuilt, atmyword.”
“Everything needs a refresh now and again, lest it become stagnant.”
Like me, Anne thought. She felt stagnant. Maybe it was time for a change, and not for the house.
“Does your son also have an interest in interior design?” Anne asked.
“No, my Robert is in training to be a solicitor.” Miss Barrow’s voice warmed with pride, but a shadow crossed her face. “He was recently accepted as an apprentice to a well-to-do man who works in the courts of Chancery.”
“It is wonderful to see the younger generation take the reins of their lives. I am impressed every day with my nephew since he reached his majority. He is Hawthorne’s heir, and I can think of no one better to inherit the title.”
“You never had children, Your Grace?”
Anne stiffened. She spoke of this to no one for fear of seeming unnatural. A lady’s most important role was to bear an heir. How could she ever explain why she—the Stickler of Society—had failed to execute her primary duty?
Yet there was something so open and encouraging about Miss Barrow, and Anne thought she would understand.
“I suppose people think that the duke’s absence made things challenging in that regard,” she said. “But the simple truth is that neither of us wanted children.” Saying the words was a relief.
“I thought at first that you wanted me to work on the duke’s bedchambers so you could resume your marital duties in hopes of an heir.”
“Oh!” The idea startled a laugh from her. “No. Certainly not.”
“I only had one child,” Miss Barrow said. “I was never with any man after Robert’s father.”
Anne was shocked to hear her speak so casually.
She leaned close. “I have only lain with women.”
“Use yourdiscretion, Miss Barrow!” Anne gasped. She whipped her head around and was relieved to see the footmen still far behind. The admission wasn’t a shock to her—she hadn’t missed the way that Miss Barrow’s eyes lingered on her or the sparks that sizzled the air between them—but to say such a thing out in the open!
“Oh, I hide nothing from anyone,” she said, a little smile on her lips. “I am not afraid of who I am.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Anne hissed. “Do not think me unsympathetic, but you risk everything to speak so boldly. I cannot condone this.” She shoved her hands deeper into the muff, clasping them together so hard she was worried she would crack the bone.
“I merely thought, knowing of your husband—”
“Youmuststop, Miss Barrow. No more.”
“I apologize for offending you, Your Grace.” Her voice held a note of scorn.
Anne struggled not to flush. “It is not—offensive,” she said, pitching her voice as low as she could. “But it is not safe to say these things in public, where anyone could overhear.”
She shrugged. “I think natural needs and desires are entirely appropriate for conversation, but I suppose that is but one more difference between a duchess and a lowly miss such as myself. It matters not anyway. I am here to know more aboutyou, after all, andyourneeds. For your renovation, of course.”
It was easy to pretend that those words meant more than they did. Those moments in the bedchamber rushed back to her, bringing not only a much-needed warmth to her wind-chapped cheeks but also a most inconvenient warmth between her legs.
That was dangerous indeed.
But oh, so tempting.
“What else would you like to know?” she asked.
