Page 26 of His Unwanted Duchess

“No. I was wondering, though, why His Grace has shawls and ladies’ coats in his home. Why would a woman leave her clothes here? If I’m to be the latest of the Duke’s victims, then I can assure you that…”

Mouse smiled wryly. “They belong to the Dowager Duchess, I believe. She visits sometimes and leaves some of her clothes here.”

“Oh,” Beatrice mumbled, feeling her face turn red.

Her implication must have been noticed—she hadn’t been subtle—and it turned out that, instead of a cellar full of dead women, or perhaps spurned lovers, the ladies’ clothes only belonged to the Duke’s mother.

“Not everything is a penny dreadful, Miss Haversham,” the butler remarked, seemingly unruffled. “Ah, I believe His Grace is over there, by the edge of the terrace. He has been waiting for you. You may go to him whenever you like.”

With that vague, slightly ominous remark, Mouse bowed and melted back into the conservatory.

That left Beatrice alone.

Although, notquitealone. She was now alone with a gentleman whose very presence might ruin her reputation worse than ever before.

And, of course, she had just accused him of… Well, she wasn’t entirely sure what she had accused him of, only that it was not polite.

The Duke of Blackwood stood beside the brazier, his back turned to her. His evening suit was, as far as she could tell, black velvet, allowing him to melt into the dark garden beyond. A plume of smoke rose from his cigar.

“There you are, Miss Haversham,” he said, his voice carrying easily. “I must say, I wasn’t expecting you to come through the conservatory.”

Drawing in a deep breath—it was too late to flee, of course—Beatrice moved towards him.

“How else should I have come?”

She stood beside him, careful to stay out of reach. Not that hewouldgrab her, only that the memory of his hand on hers and his arm around her waist when she fell from the carriage had troubled her for a while.

It was only the impropriety of it that bothered her, of course, as well as plain, old annoyance.

“There is a much quicker way to here from the front door,” the Duke said, taking a long draw on his cigar and blowing out a plume of smoke. His lips pursed around the smoke, and Beatrice noticed uneasily that he had very full lips, for a man. She wasn’t entirely surewhythis had come to her attention, only that now she could not stop noticing it.

She pointedly turned away. “Oh?”

“Yes. Mouse might have taken you through the Blue Parlor and along a little corridor, and then you would have been here, on the terrace. Much quicker.”

How did they get into this subject?

“Then… then why did he not?” she managed.

The Duke flicked away his cigar. It glowed for a split second, then disappeared into the darkness.

“I believe Mouse was trying to impress you. He’s remarkably proud of the conservatory, you know. I did mention to him that you and I might take a jaunt down the aisle together sooner or later. Don’t fret, he won’t gossip.”

Beatrice pressed her lips together. “Do you generally confide in your servants?”

“Of course. Don’t you?”

“I like to keep my secrets to myself.”

“Hm. Fair enough, I suppose. I hope you don’t mind my bringing you out here, Miss Haversham. It is such a fine night that I thought it a pity not to breathe in the fresh night air a little. Although, perhaps you are one of those ladies who believe that night air is injurious to their complexion.”

Beatrice shot him a look. “No, I am not.”

“Excellent. My father believed it, you see. He would not let my mother step outside once the sun had gone down. She would have to go through the stables—which could be reached through the servants’ quarters, by the way—to climb into the carriage, if we were going out to a ball or party. It was most irritating for her, but it was far better than defying him. He was not a man who liked being defied, you know.”

“He sounds awful,” Beatrice said bluntly. But then she realized she was talking about the Duke’sfatherand felt the color rush to her face, despite the cold night air. “I’m sorry, I?—”

“No apology necessary,” he said, waving one elegant hand. “Hewasawful. So, Miss Haversham, unless you are here to be seduced…”

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