Page 40 of His Runaway Duchess

I won’t be long.I’ll collect some food and something to drink, then go back to my room. After that, I suppose I’ll have to try and sleep again. Alex promised me a grand tour tomorrow, and I have the feeling that he wakes up early.

She remembered her way well enough, creeping down icy stone steps and into the depths of the house. A candle flickered in the kitchen, casting long, jagged shadows over the stone flags.

Odd that they left the candle out like that.

The kitchen was empty, of course. It was a long, wide space with a low ceiling, smelling deliciously of herbs and cooked meat and roasted vegetables. Gleaming copper pots hung on the walls, and embers still glowed in a vast hearth. A large wooden table, scrubbed clean, sat in the middle of the room, cleared of everything except the candle and a chipped, old mug. Half a dozen gaping, dark doorways led to other servants’ hallways and rooms, part of a maze that Daphne hadn’t even begun to decipher.

Something shuffled in the darkness, and she froze, her heart thumping suddenly.

How could I have been so stupid, wandering around an unfamiliar house in the dark? What if it’s a robber? I could scream my heart out down here and nobody would ever hear.

A tall, broad-shouldered figure appeared in one doorway, and Daphne’s breath caught in her throat.

“Miss Belmont?”

Her shoulders sagged with relief. “Your Grace? Is that you? What on earth are you doing down here?”

The figure stepped forward, and she saw that it was indeed the Duke. He was dressed for bed, in plain breeches and a loose linen shirt, unlaced at the neck and displaying a deep V at his chest, like before.

She cleared her throat and dragged her gaze up to meet his eyes.

He was frowning at her, holding a cloth bag in one hand and a package in the other.

“What amIdoing here?” he repeated. “This is my kitchen, you know. I think a better question is, what areyoudoing here?”

She bit her lip. “I didn’t eat much at dinner. I was hungry, so I thought I’d come down and get something to eat without disturbing anyone.” Her gaze dropped to the packages in his hands. “I guess you thought the same.”

There was a long pause, broken only by the ticking of a clock somewhere. The kitchen was cold, and a draft swirled around Daphne’s bare ankles. She was suddenly all too aware that she was in her nightgown, with only a thin robe over it, and barefoot. It wasn’t the proper attire to greet anyone in, let alone a man. The material of her gown suddenly felt far too thin, and goosebumps rose over her skin.

“I’m sure we won’t get in each other’s way,” the Duke said, making her flinch.

“What… What are you making?” Daphne managed, trying to compose herself. She was shivering, and it couldn’t bejustbecause of the cold.

He wasn’t looking at her now, having turned around to unhook a pan from the wall.

“Chocolate,” he responded shortly. “Want some?”

“Um, yes, please.”

He didn’t respond, bustling about the kitchen and getting things ready. Soon enough, the sweet smell of chocolate filled the air, and Daphne’s stomach rumbled again. She noticed that he hadn’t touched the other package, however.

While the Duke stood at the stove, stirring the bubbling mixture, she inched over to the package, poking it experimentally. It was untied, and she pulled back a linen flap to see the contents.

“Your Grace, what’s in?—”

He turned around and paled. “No, don’t open…”

They both stared down at the contents of the package.

“Marzipan fruits,” she said, surprised. “I didn’t know you had a sweet tooth, Your Grace.”

He flushed, snatching up the package. “Everybody has their weaknesses. Marzipan is delicious, by the way.”

“You’ll get no argument from me. Why eat them in secret, though? My father used to love sugared plums, and he always had a few of them in a little bowl on his desk in his study, so he could eat them whenever he wanted.”

The chocolate was ready. The Duke carefully poured two generous mugfuls. Steam billowed in the cold air.

“I can’t eat as many as I would like in front of Alex,” he responded brusquely.

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