Page 46 of A Spinster to Reform the Duke
“My Lady, it is the saddest poem of yours that I have read.” His words made her hang her head and look away. She didn’t want to talk about it. That was why she had written about it, so she would not feel compelled to say it aloud. “It is good, brilliant, even, yet sad. What does this mean?”
This time, she was not going to be outdone. She turned and rounded the bureau, before taking the paper out of his hands, resting her gaze upon the words again.
‘The Greeks say Pandora’s box is to blame
For the vile cruelty that fell out to claim
Us all in its clutches. Every bad thing in this world
Yet one good thing came last, out of the box it unfurled.
Hope.
Is hope so good?
Or is it falsehood.
For what crawled out of that box, that grain of light
Is cruel, for we hope when no good is in sight.’
“Rebecca?”
The word made her snap her gaze up. The Duke had not used her title, merely her name.
“It is nothing, Your Grace.” She folded up the paper, doing her best to hide it.
“That is not nothing.” He was on his feet, rounding the writing bureau, attempting to come closer to her. Rebecca took off in the other direction, trying her best to escape him. All they did was keep circling the bureau. “You have arrived here today and within the space of an hour, you are hiding in the library, writing such sad poetry that it will make many a reader cry.”
“You think it would do that?” she asked in amazement, as they came to a stop, on either side of the bureau. She was judging which way to go next, when he took off the other way, doing his best to catch her again. She equally changed direction, evading him still.
“I half expected the writer to be crying whilst they wrote it!” he gestured to her wildly with the words. “My Lady, please.”
He stopped and went the other way, and Rebecca was unprepared for it. She tried to evade him again, but she was too late. He managed to take hold of her hand, pulling her to a stop.
“Ahem,” Mrs. McGinty cleared her throat from her place in the doorway. It made them both look toward her, where she was pretending interest in the paintings on the wall. The Duke released Rebecca’s hand, clearly reprimanded by their chaperone. Rebecca tried not to think about why the loss of his touch upset her so.
“What caused that poem, Lady Rebecca?” he said in a hushed whisper, with urgency to his tone. “Please, tell me that at least.” He held her gaze as he spoke, the intensity of that blue gaze increasing.
She could feel herself on the cusp of telling him. She chewed the inside of her mouth, trying to stop herself from doing so.
“My Lady?” he urged her on.
“It was just a thought I had.”
“A thought inspired by sadness? It hardly comes from something happy, does it?” he asked, pointing down at the folded paper she had placed against her chest. He reached out, pinching the very corner of the sheet and taking it from her. “May I look again?”
“Must you?”
“I’m hoping to discover more clues within this time to tell me what is wrong.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Do you not know me at all by now?” he asked, revealing his first smile for some minutes. “Have you not seen what lengths I will go to just to make you smile?”
Rebecca could conjure no words. She was too busy staring at him in wonder.
“There you are, Your Grace.” Lady Esther’s voice made Rebecca back up. She took the paper back from the Duke, forcing him to drop it as she looked away. “We have all been searching for you. We are to go for that walk now. Lady Rebecca, I didn’t see you there.”
