Page 56 of Her Devil of a Duke
“Let me out of here!” She banged her fists on the door repeatedly. “Let me out. You cannot keep me in here. I am not your prisoner!”
It didn’t seem to matter how long she knocked on the door, incessantly, until her knuckles were grazed. No one came to her call, nor were there even any sounds of footsteps passing the door. She yanked on the handle, yet her uncle had locked it from the other side. Kneeling down, she peered through the lock but could only see a blackness. He’d left the key in the lock.
“No, no.” Her voice quieted to a murmur as she sat against the door and cradled her knees to her chest.
The night before seemed a great distance away now. The passion and excitement of being in Rafe’s arms practically felt like a dream. Now, she was forced to face the fact that she would spend nights alone in this chamber, without even Kitty for company. She hated the dark and isolation, yet she would have to face it alone.
“I will not forgive my uncle for this,” she whispered aloud, thinking both of the imprisonment and how he intended to marry her off to Mr. Windham. “Never. I shall not forgive him for any of it.”
She rested her head on her knees as the first tears came and streaked her cheeks. She wracked her brain, trying to think of a way out of this awful betrothal, for there was only one man she could ever imagine marrying.
It is not to be though, is it? Even if I want to marry Rafe, he is a rake. He would never consider marrying, let alone marrying me.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
“Your Grace. You are not eating.” Stede’s words made Rafe shift in his seat at the head of the dining table.
“No. Thank the kitchen for the breakfast. They have gone to great trouble.” Rafe nodded at the display of food. “I am afraid I cannot stomach it presently.”
“As you wish.” Stede bowed but he didn’t walk away. Instead, he reached for the coffee pot and topped up Rafe’s cup for him. Rafe looked up at the butler, rather startled by the change in him. The old Stede would have taken the soonest opportunity to leave the room.
“Thank you,” Rafe said in surprise and reached for the coffee cup, taking a sip.
“I have requested the steward make arrangements with the workmen for the overhaul of the west wing, Your Grace.”
“That is good. Once we see the plans and have the quotes, I’ll make the necessary arrangements with Jarvis. I’ll see to the rest, Stede. You need not worry.” Rafe nestled the coffee in his hands. “Is there anything else I have been neglecting here whilst I have been hiding in London?”
Stede shifted his weight between his feet, clearly surprised by the words.
“Well, some of the tenants claimed a month ago they needed work carried out on their cottages.”
“Very well. Jarvis has the details?”
“He does.”
“Then I shall discuss them with him later today. I’ll see all the necessary work is done before I take my leave this time,” Rafe assured him.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Stede smiled. It quite transformed his features, before it fell away once again. “I know I am just your butler, Your Grace, merely a servant to you, but may I be permitted to speak out of turn for a moment?”
“Please do.” Rafe gestured to him, urging him on.
“I have been glad to have you here in the house.” Stede practically whispered the words, he was plainly so worried to say them. “I am only sorry it has brought you this sadness.” He bowed hurriedly. “I shall leave you to your peace now.” He left the room as quickly as he could, darting out with the excuse that Rafe needed more coffee.
Rafe stared after him, his jaw slack, unsure which to be more shocked by—the sudden kindness that his butler had displayed, or the fact that his grief had been painted across his face the past days. Sighing, he rested his head against the backrest of his chair, thinking of how happy he had been for many weeks in the castle as of late. It was only in the last two days since Evelyn had gone that he had returned to his gloomy state.
She deserves better than me. I must come to terms with that.
He gulped heavily from his coffee as he replayed in his mind once again Evelyn’s face when she had seen that mask. She was so convinced that she was just another woman to him, another lady in the long round of him being a rake. He’d turned his back on all of that. He wished he could tell her that she was more to him than that, but after all that had passed, he doubted she would believe him.
Sounds in the room disturbed him and Rafe opened his eyes to see one of his maids hurrying in, carrying a fresh coffee pot. It was Petra, the maid who had acted as lady’s maid to Evelyn during her stay. Petra placed down the coffee pot and sniffed.
Rafe’s eyes darted to look at Petra’s own, realizing that they were red and sore.
“Petra? Is something wrong?” Rafe leaned forward. “You have been crying.”
“Oh.” She backed up from the table and looked down, trying to hide those reddened eyes. “I should not say, Your Grace.”
“Petra, you are part of my staff. I do not want you upset. What has happened?”
