Page 27 of The Duke's Mysterious Lover
His secrets weren’t his to tell.
The lad told yehissecrets.
Aye, and Thorneknew,deep-down, in a way he couldn’t explain, that Kit was trustworthy. The way Demon or Rourke…or Fawkes was trustworthy.
Ye cannae afford to lose yer head. Or yer heart.
Last night, Kit had cared for him. He had become a friend.
Thorne couldn’t afford the lad to be more, to be a lover.
Could he?
Chapter 5
Kit frownedat the pale green silk in her hands. The material in this waistcoat likely cost more than her monthly salary, and she was expected to care for it? She held it closer to her nose, trying to keep her stitches as small as possible.
Grazie a Dioshe didn’t have to worry aboutlaunderingsuch fine clothing…but it had been a shock to discovershewas otherwise in charge of the Duke’s wardrobe.
Thorne dressed better than she ever had, even when shehadbeen pretending to be a fine lady!
Youwerea fine lady. Governesses, deportment, dancing lessons, silk ball gowns. Remember?
Well, yes.
She’d been as much a lady as Society would allow her to be, as the illegitimate daughter of an opera singer on the road.
Luckily, part of her upbringing had been learning to wield a needle. Old Maude had been the first to teach her how to make quick adjustments to costumes or to mend seams. Then a series of well-meaning tutors in thewomanly artshad taught Kit how to embroider useless flowers on silk.
Rather like the silk of Thorne’s waistcoat.
Frustrated, she yanked the damned thing away from her nose and stalked toward the window, hoping more light would help.
It didn’t, and once there she became distracted by the view of the manicured garden behind the house.
Thorne had said he didn’t host balls, which was a shame, because the gardens of the Stroken House weremadefor illicit rendezvous and hidden kisses. The assembly he was attending tonight…would it have a garden like this one? Would he sneak out into it with a lady who caught his eye, and woo her—or more—in private?
He was a rake, a charmer, a man who didn’t take life seriously.
Until he’d become the Duke.
Now the world rested on his shoulders, and he wasn’t having any fun at all. He’d complained about attending social events like balls; where he used to enjoy them, now he dreaded them.
Did he dread tonight’s event?
Did he think of last night’s event?
Sighing, Kit dropped her forehead to the smooth glass, trying not to wince.
Last night…last night she’d beenproudto help him. Glad she’d been able to relieve some of his stress. But what didhethink of it?
He’d fallen asleep in her arms, safe and protected. This morning, she’d woken the same way, snug in the circle of his arms…with his arousal pressing against her arse.
The realization had sent her pulse vibrating and her stomach knotting…lower, desire had flooded her core as she did her best not to press back against him. He hadn’t known she was awake, judging by his comical attempts at silence as he removed himself from the bed and stomped out of the room.
He hadn’t wanted to wake her—hadn’t wanted confrontation of his arousal?
Kit was no virgin; she knew how to take fun as she found it, and how to ensure there’d be no lasting consequences. Innocence was something she’d left behind long ago. Hopefully, last night had proven that to him. She couldn’t deny her attraction to Thorne, nor the way his touch—hisexistence—aroused her.
