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“Go to the stables tonight?” No hint of humour in his chuckle. “So you can run away before you’ve told me what you are about?”
She huffed, and waited for him to lead. He did not. “You stay in front,” he ordered.
“I won’t run,” she snapped. She couldn’t now, not until she’d made plans for her pets.
His response was caught between a chuckle and a sigh. In some odd way, he was enjoying this. She sensed the thrum of emotion woven into every sound he made; humour, anger, frustration, and confusion. Complicated expressions, though he’d barely spoken.
She fought a shiver of unease. Refused to let his voice sink into her, its barbed hook trapping her. She had things to do, people who needed her for more than a bank balance.
At the door, she turned, risking a look back over the path they’d walked, studying the edges of the woods. Even with the full moon, the shadows were too deep to see anything.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, as he reached around for the doorknob. He needn’t have bothered. As usual, someone had anticipated his need. The door opened from the inside, revealing the housekeeper, Mrs. Beechum, and the butler, Hitches, on the threshold in their dressing gowns.
Summerton shifted, using his body and the dark of night to shield her. “Nothing to worry about. One of the Duchess’s stable hands came to see about the animals. I will deal with him. You may return to your beds.”
The housekeeper held out a coat of sorts and a pair of gentleman’s slippers. “Percy brought these down for you,” she said.
Caroline blinked. She’d been so caught up in planning what to do next she’d failed to notice the Duke wore nothing more than a thin silk nightshirt. How had she missed that? She bit back a laugh, imagining him climbing down the stone lattice of the balcony, his nightshirt catching on every twig of the vine dominating the structure. Sure enough, snags marred the delicate red silk, pocking it. Bits of vines and leaves still clung. She might have felt sorry, except fascination rerouted all other thoughts. She’d never seen a man in so little covering.
Summerton was slipping into an Asian banyan robe of striking blue, embroidered with heavy gold thread. Hitches held the garment in place as the housekeeper lifted the slippers for the Duke to step into. He needn’t even bend a knee, which was unfortunate, for when Caroline’s gaze reached his face she caught him watching her, one eyebrow raised. She lifted her chin. It wasn’t her fault he’d chosen to chase her with barely a stitch on.
Well, not entirely her fault.
He had released his hold on her as Hitches and the housekeeper dressed him, but she didn’t dare try to run. He’d already proven he could outdistance her. Plus, he had her animals.
“I hope this lad will teach the bird some better language,” the housekeeper griped, without a single glance at Caroline. Servants could be a snobbish lot.
“Mrs. Beechum.” Hitches’ sartorial tone silenced her. “We shall leave His Grace to this business.” He bowed to Summerton. “We are at your service if you need anything. There is a candle for you in the hallway.”
“We’ll be in the study, Hitches.”
“Will you need a fire, Your Grace?”
“No, I don’t expect this will take long.” Summerton waited, watching as the two headed back to their apartments.
“Well-trained monkeys.” Caroline muttered, drawing a harsh, shaming stare from Summerton.
“They do not deserve your disrespect.”
Her cheeks heated. Foolishness, belittling servants for her own frustrations. Her family was not that far removed from service for her to be anything but considerate to them. Besides, there was no reason to fault Summerton’s servants at this point. Not unless they became as intrusive as her uncle’s tattling minions. And she could not really fault her uncle’s servants. After all, they had had little choice in the matter.
The Duke bowed and opened his arm to direct her to continue. “To my study.”
Caroline sighed. “I don’t know where it is.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “I suppose you don’t.”
He took the candle left by his butler and led her down a long, panelled hallway, lined with pictures obscured by shadow. When he reached a doorway, he stood aside, silently inviting her over the threshold. He followed, his one meagre candle in hand. On the edge of light she saw a mantle, the fire now cold. She crossed to it as the door thumped shut and a lock clicked into place. Fate sealed, she didn’t bother to look back. She ignored the rustling and jostling, not really wanting to know what he was about, until a breeze shivered down her neck.
Summerton had drawn the drapes, opened the French doors, and stepped outside through the wide-flung panels of bevelled glass. She crossed to them to see what he was doing. Was this her opportunity to run? He hadn’t gone far, was even now returning, her abandoned bundle slung over his back. If not for the finery of his garments, he would have resembled an ordinary worker. She turned away, disturbed, confused by a heightened curiosity traitorous to her plans. Had she not run, she would have known this man without any barriers, not even the silk of his nightshirt.
Back inside, he left the doors open and dropped the bundle near a bookcase before retrieving the candle from a side bureau near the door.
“It will do you no good to try and leave,” he said over his shoulder as he used the candle to light sconces on either side of the fireplace. “You would not get away.”
“I’ve already presumed as much,” she admitted. He smiled, as though pleased. Whether it was in reaction to her honesty or common sense, she didn’t know. His voice gave him away in some instances, but she didn’t know him well enough to decipher his expressions. What an absolute farce, that young couples could know so little about each other, yet be bonded for life. Not wishing to dwell on that, Caroline took advantage of the light. They were in a study, decorated much the same as the rest of the Hall. A grand space with badly frayed furnishings. Like an old relative, once much loved, grown tatty and crippled through neglect.
Not that Summerton would realise such a thing even if he had the funds to make a difference. Men didn’t, did they? It took a woman to care and there had been very little female influence on the Summerton line for generations. The Duke’s mother had died when he was just a boy and his father had never remarried. The same had been true for the previous generation. The Dukes of Summerton were well-established bachelors, preferring town life over country pursuits.
