Page 32 of Taken By the Broken Duke
Juliet shrugged. “One of them does. He threatened me, but…”
“You did not listen,” Horatio finished.
“I won’t stand by,” Juliet replied firmly.
She turned back to the rabbit, stroking its fur softly. Without thinking, she reached for a corner of the bedclothes to dab at the blood on its fur. When she realized what she was doing, she colored.
“Oh my. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sure this will come out.”
Horatio laughed. “It makes no difference to me. I will not be the one cleaning it. My housekeeper may think differently. And she is too frightening a prospect for me to stand up to her, I’m afraid.”
The very idea was nonsensical. Juliet laughed easily at the notion of Horatio cowering before the temper of a servant. He grinned in return. Their eyes met and their laughter faded.Something passed between them. It occurred to Juliet that Horatio now knew more about her than her family did.
They did not know of her run-in withCurt the Pint, the local poacher. Or of her desire to care for injured animals and birds. Nigel knew as much about her, but no one else. It gave her a feeling of connection between them, despite how their relationship had started.
Horatio looked away first, as there came a knock at the door. Juliet returned to her patient, feeling a sense of regret that the moment had passed. Could this marriage work? Despite its origins, maybe it could become something akin to love? At the very least,friendship. Love was a romantic idea, but not for her. Not that she didn’t want it. It was more that she didn’t think it would happen. Her ailment would surely drive away any man who learned about it. And if she did not tell of it, when she eventually succumbed to it, she would leave behind a widower. That was a prospect that she could not face.
She heard voices in the next room as Horatio gave his instructions. Then the door closing. Horatio came back in.
“Linen, hot water, mortar, and pestle will be brought to the fine lady directly. I shall be returning to my chambers to dress more decently and allow you to do the same. The servants already know that I am more than half savage. I do not want them forming the same view of you.”
“Do you care?” Juliet asked.
The question came out more directly than she intended. Horatio gave her a long, steady look. She blushed but did not qualify her question, merely waited.
“I do, it seems.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Horatio had finished dressing when he heard Hall’s distinctive three-punter knock at the door.
“Come in, Hall,” he called.
His bedroom was large with a vaulted stone ceiling and flagstone floor. Pillars supported the stone arches of tall casements. He eschewed a suite of rooms as he provided to his guests in favor of one large chamber in which the only furniture was a wardrobe large enough for five men to stand in, a four-poster bed, and a bureau. There was no mirror, he had little interest in examining his appearance after dressing. Hall was a living mirror, paying close attention to the detail of his master’s dress and grooming.
Horatio sipped from a porcelain cup of tea, sweetened and hot. The chill of immersion in cold water and then walking in the open air in wet clothes had settled into his bones and the beverage was welcome. Hall came in and opened his mouth—
“Lady Margaret wishes an audience,” Horatio finished, raising an eyebrow.
“—Err, that she does, Your Grace. And she is in quite a taking,” Hall replied.
“I am sure she is,” Horatio took another sip.
“Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but that was a damn foolish thing to do if you’re trying to win this lady over,” Hall began, gathering up the wet clothes that Horatio had discarded on the floor.
“It was—ifthat was my intention. It is not. I do not need to win her over. The Godwin’s own grasping greed means they will not walk away from my offer.”
Hall harrumphed. “Doesn’t do the lady’s reputation much good though, does it?”
Horatio paused, then nodded. “You are right, of course. We were both reckless and unthinking. It seems I shall need to be more circumspect in the future…”
“Is the young lady likely to be a Duchess for very long?” Hall asked.
He stood with a wet bundle in his arms and met Horatio’s eye as though speaking to an equal. It was a unique relationship. A servant who insisted on the forms, though Horatio cared not.But equally, Hall insisted on speaking to Horatio in the same way that he had when Horatio was a hired hand at the Cornwall inn that Hall had owned.
“That was not my plan,” Horatio muttered after a thought.
“Not the plan, no. But plans only last ‘til the first shot is fired, as they say. Seems to be that it's harder to dispense with a wife yer fond of. These clothes need washed and dried. Lady Margaret is awaiting you in the Big Library.”
