Page 17 of Guilty Pleasures

“Never say please to the workmen,” a low voice murmured in her ear. “If you do, they will not respect you.”

The sound of Anthony’s voice right behind her almost made her jump, and Daphne turned around. “I appreciate the advice, your grace,” she said, “but since I have been around workmen all my life, I believe I can manage to get a pair of them to move a mosaic pavement without assistance.”

She walked away, but she could still feel Anthony’s gaze on her back as she followed the men inside the antika. “Thank you,” she said as they laid the pavement on her largest worktable. “Now, I need—”

“Leave us,” Anthony interrupted from behind her.

The two men immediately moved to obey, ignoring Daphne’s sound of protest. She frowned at him as the workmen left the building. “I do not suppose it occurred to you to inquire if I had any further need of their help before you dismissed them?”

“No,” he answered with characteristic bluntness. “I wanted to speak with you in private, so I sent them away.”

“Do you always get what you want?”

Daphne watched his dark brows lift in surprise at her impertinence, and she could not suppress a hint of satisfaction. Being indifferent to him was so easy, now that she didn’t care for him any more.

“Usually,” he answered. “Perhaps because I am arrogant, inconsiderate, and selfish. Or so I have been told.”

Having her own words quoted back to her was a bit disconcerting, but if he expected an apology, he was mistaken.

“All dukes are like that,” he went on. “It is the way we are raised, you see. It comes from a lifetime of being surrounded by people who wait to gratify every whim and obey every order without question. Do not expect any duke to behave otherwise.”

She bowed her head in deference to his superior knowledge of dukes. “With you as my example, your grace, I assure you I will not.”

He made a choked sound that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, and Daphne’s sense of satisfaction evaporated. She had wanted her words to sting.

“I see you have found your tongue at last, Miss Wade,” he commented, a wry note in his voice.

“I was unaware I had lost it,” she answered at once. “To my knowledge, it has remained in my mouth for the whole of my life.”

“A fact I am just now discovering,” he murmured, and took a step closer to her, but she refused to step back. She returned his study of her with a level, steady gaze of her own.

“Your eyes are not blue,” he said, sounding as if he had just discovered something unexpected. “They are lavender.”

Daphne’s heart slammed against her breastbone and all her newfound confidence deserted her. There was something in his eyes, something in his voice, that hurt, that made her remember the woman she had been yesterday, a woman blissfully unaware of how heartbreak felt.

She drew a deep, steadying breath. That woman was gone, and the woman who had taken her place was not going to feel any pain because of him. Not ever again. “Surely your grace did not seek me out to comment on the color of my eyes.”

When he did not reply, she turned away. Over her shoulder, she added, “Whatever you wish to discuss, I hope you don’t mind if I work while we talk.”

Daphne took his silence for acceptance. She did not make any attempt to guess why he wanted to speak with her. It could be about her resignation, or something to do with the excavation. She really did not care. She just wanted him to go away.

She walked to the table where the mosaic the workmen had brought in lay waiting for her to begin repairs. She examined the pail of resinous cement she had mixed a short while earlier, stirring it with a wooden paddle to make certain it was the right consistency. Satisfied, she lifted the lid of the large wooden tile box that rested on the table to the right of the mosaic. All the loose floor tiles that had been sifted from the excavated ground of the villa where this mosaic had been found were sorted into the various sections of the boxes by color. Now she needed to begin selecting the ones she would use to fill in the missing places of the mosaic.

As she pulled out various half-inch cubes of blue and green marble and compared them to the oceanic background of the mosaic, she waited for Anthony to speak, but when he did not, she looked over at him to find he was still watching her. “You said you wanted to talk with me,” she prompted.

“Yes, of course.” He seemed to come out of his reverie and walked to her side. “My sister has left Tremore Hall for Chiswick.”

“Yes, I know,” Daphne answered as she selected two tiles of serpentine green and cobalt blue from the box. “She said good-bye to me a short while ago as her carriage was being brought round.” She could not resist adding, “I shall see her again in a month.”

“That is why I wanted to speak with you.” He paused, then said, “Miss Wade, despite the fact that you are a woman, I have come to have a high regard for your abilities as an antiquarian and a scholar.”

Daphne thought of all the hours she had worked to prove herself and gain his respect. And now, when it was too late, he was finally giving her a tiny scrap of that respect. Was she supposed to be impressed by such condescension? “Thank you, your grace. And despite the fact that you are a duke, you appear to have some actual knowledge of antiquities.”

This time, he did laugh, making no effort to smother his amusement. “Yes, you have a tongue, indeed, for now that you are leaving, you are not attempting to curb it for my sake.”

No reply was required of her, and she did not make one. Instead, she kept her attention on her work. She began comparing the tiles in her hand to the ones already set in the mortar by the gap she would fill in, choosing those she felt made the best match. As she worked, she tried to ignore the man standing beside her. She wished he would say whatever he had come to say and then leave. It seemed an eternity before he spoke.

“I would like you to stay.”

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