Page 25 of Ravished By the Beastly Duke

“I thank you for your praise, Your Grace.” Wilson smiled. “But I think His Grace might greatly enjoy seeing your touch in whatwas once his safe place. It might do him good. It would at least wipe the sour memories he may have of this place.”

Eveline smiled back and nodded. “You shall advise me on the matter, then.”

“It shall be my pleasure.” Wilson beamed. “I know it is not my place to say so, Your Grace, but I am grateful for your presence here. You have brightened the castle since you arrived, and I hope you have also brightened His Grace’s heart.”

Eveline was tempted to coax more information out of the kind old man, who seemed relieved by his master’s marriage, but she hesitated, knowing it might drive an even bigger wedge between her and the Duke if he knew she had been inquiring about his past.

“I thank you for your help so far, Wilson,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “I shall leave you to finish your work, then. We shall discuss the flowers at another time.”

Wilson bowed as she turned to leave, whistling a happy tune as he resumed his work. He was ignorant of the fire of pity he had lit in Eveline’s heart, which no amount of sighing had been able to quell.

Needing a respite from her dark mood, she decided to head to the library to begin organizing the space. There had been a fine layer of dust on almost every surface, and with most of the staff busy with the tasks she had assigned them, she would beworking alone. The activity would offer a good distraction to her racing mind.

With her hair tied and her apron on, she settled into her task after waving off protests from worried maids and footmen. Already, she had dusted the tables and a reading nook by a window she looked forward to utilizing once she tired. She was humming a tune to herself as she reached for a tome a step above her.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” a voice yelled suddenly from behind her, startling her.

She had been standing on her tiptoes as she stretched out her hands, and in her fright, she missed her step and felt her other leg slide off the ladder she had been standing on.

She closed her eyes as she braced herself for the pain that was sure to come when she collided with the floor. Instead, she felt herself land squarely against something hard. Bands of steel wrapped around her, but there was no pain. She heard a groan but had not yet opened her eyes.

“I sincerely hope there is a good explanation for what I just witnessed,” said a voice from above her.

She opened her eyes and found herself staring into her husband’s irritated face, realizing he had caught her and she was now wrapped tightly in his arms. The position brought her close to the long column of his neck and the expanse of his chest she glimpsed beneath the open collar of his shirt.

Over the past few days, she had noticed that, unlike her father, her husband did not see the need for proper dress in his own home, so he took to wearing a linen shirt which he left unbuttoned at the neck, a pair of woolen breeches, and his old boots.

Her cheeks flamed at his proximity, and she dipped her head to hide it as well as how unflattering she must have looked with dust coating her.

“You must unhand me, Your Grace,” she advised. “I am covered in dust, and I do not want to ruin your shirt.”

She looked up at him again, eyeing the tufts of hair on his chest, and cleared her throat to rein in her thoughts.

He really was too tempting.

“Perhaps you should have considered that before attempting such a task,” he scolded. “Unless you have a death wish, you should reconsider.”

“I am wearing an apron.”

“It only makes matters worse.” He glared at her. “There are servants here for this. I do not like seeing my wife dressed as a servant.”

“You really must unhand me.”

“No,” he answered stubbornly. “I am afraid if I do, you will attempt to continue your foolishness.”

“It is hardly foolishness when I am trying to do a good deed,” she argued, frowning. “The library needed cleaning.”

“Which could have gotten you killed,” he pointed out, still glaring at her. “Why are you doing this when I have a houseful of servants to do it?”

“Anyone could get hurt from this task, and I wasn’t in any danger until you startled me,” she countered.

“There’s a reason I have the number of footmen I do.” He scowled. “If you wanted to assist, you could have been present in the room to supervise. What if someone saw you?”

“Have you received any visitors lately?” she asked pointedly.

“That is beside the point.” He frowned.

She raised an eyebrow, and he sighed, slowly releasing her. He did not drop his hand from the small of her back until he was sure she could stand on her own.

---