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“There weren’t many trees where I grew up,” she said, softly, and he wondered at the words.
“Not the Duchess’s cousin, and not a faraway vicar’s daughter, then?”
She smiled. “A poor example of a vicar’s daughter, indeed, if one considers yesterday.”
“If one considers yesterday, I’d imagine you were raised on the South Bank.”
She returned to her food, taking her time to compose the perfect bite on her fork. Was he right? Had she been raised there? It seemed impossible that anything else could be true—with the way she’d weaved in and out of the alleyways, like the place had been mapped on her skin.
Chewing thoughtfully, she finally replied, “I didn’t have a brother, or trees, but I had plenty of rooftops, and even more children willing to show off their skills in climbing them. Rooftops and trees aren’t so different, after all. They both come with a better view.”
A vision flashed—Adelaide Frampton on a London rooftop, the sun setting on the horizon, turning her red hair into pure flame. And then, unbidden, the vision shifted, and Clayborn was there, reaching for her. Pulling her close. Claiming her full lower lip with a soft bite before licking into her mouth. He went instantly hard at the image, one he knew would be bested by reality.
Not that he would ever find out. He cleared his throat, willing the sinful thoughts away. She deserved better than kisses on docks. Than fantasies in roadside taverns. Than what he could offer her. Now was not the time to imagine Adelaide Frampton naked on a rooftop.
“But did you?” she asked.
He blinked. Cleared his throat again. “I beg your pardon?”
Her brows lifted in what might have been a knowing smile. “Teach your brother to climb trees.”
“Ah. No.” He paused. “In fact, Jack fell out of a tree when he was eight and broke his arm.”
“And where were you?”
He’d been inside. Studying. Wanting to impress their father who had, by then, been dead for a year. Wanting, even then, to make sure he lived up to the legacy.
Instead, he’d missed Jack falling from the tree. Missed helping him to the house. “I didn’t even know he’d done it until after he’d seen the doctor.” Jack hadreturned with his arm in a cast, brave smile on his face, ready for whatever reckless adventure came next. He hadn’t been disappointed in the slightest. But Clayborn had been.
“I should have...” He paused, looking to her as she chewed a bit of steak thoughtfully, watching him with those enormous brown eyes that even behind her eyeglasses seemed to see everything and somehow judge nothing—and he found he couldn’t stop himself. “I should have paid closer attention. I should have taken better care of him.”
“You were... what, eighteen?” she said, and he immediately looked to her, shocked by her knowledge before he remembered that she would of course know it. It would have been in her dossier. A basic fact of Jack’s. Of their family.
What else did she know?
Before he could ask, she added, “Barely a man yourself.”
“Man enough to hold the title. Run the estate,” he said, hearing the cool edge in his words. Knowing it was unpleasant. Maybe that was why he said the rest. “Man enough that I should have taken better care of him.” He paused. “Then and now.”
Christ. Where had that come from?
Something flashed in her eyes. Something understanding. Something like pity. Dammit. He didn’t wantthat.
Don’t say anything, he willed her, silently.
No such luck. “He deserves happiness.” She repeated his words, and he nodded, before she added, “So you follow him, and you try to keep me from revealing his secrets.”
“There are no secrets in that folder that should stop his wedding,” Clayborn said. “Nothing that prevents him from a strong, sure future as Lady Helene’s husband.”
“Because he is your heir.”
He nodded. “Because he is my heir.”
She speared another potato and waved it in his direction as she asked, “What makes you so sure that you won’t marry and have one of those on your own?”
I won’t allow it.
He was saved from having to find a different answer when Gwen returned, this time friendlier, her hand stroking over Clayborn’s shoulders as though he were anything but a duke. “Oh, I’ve a tavern full tonight. The rain’s brought everyone in lookin’ for heat. Chatty, too—so many questions.”
