Page 68 of Duke of Iron
“The garden is perfect,” May said. “It is private. I could read here without being seen.”
Logan leaned against the window and crossed his arms. “You read in every room. That is not a distinguishing feature.”
May regarded him. The townhouse was too small for a duke, and so she asked, “What is the purpose of this house, Logan?”
He tilted his head. “It is a house. It exists to be lived in.”
May tried to read his expression, but he was giving her nothing. “And who will be living here?”
“You, if you like it.”
She felt her heart stutter. “Is this… is this for us?”
He did not answer at once. His gaze went past her, out the window and over the rooftops, to a horizon she could not see. For a moment, May wondered if he would answer at all.
Then, quietly, he said, “My parents had a house here. In London, I mean. My father sold it after my mother died. We rarely came to town.”
May took a deep breath and waited.
“They werethecouple,” Logan said. “A matched set of diamonds. Theton’sgolden pair. People spoke of their love as if it were public property. They wanted children—many. They planned to fill the house with laughter and dogs and even cats, if my mother had her way. There would be balls, and picnics, and the garden would always be in bloom.”
Logan stopped, his hands flexing against his coat. May reached out, setting her hand on his sleeve. “What happened?”
He didn’t move, but he didn’t pull away either. “My mother died.”
A weight dropped in her stomach.Why do many married women have to die?Her heart began to race, but she took several deep breaths and hid whatever fear lurked within her from Logan.
“My father could not abide the sight of the house without her,” Logan continued. “He left it, and the plans, and the laughter. I grew up elsewhere. I was not allowed to forget, though. He made sure of it.”
May felt the cold through the fabric, and she gripped his arm tighter. “You do not have to live here. Not if it brings you pain.”
Logan looked at her, and for the first time, she saw something raw in his face. “It doesn’t bring pain. Not exactly. It brings memory. Which is a different thing.”
They stood there, the silence dense and uneasy, until Logan shook himself and gave a short, humorless laugh. “You see? Even I am not immune to nostalgia.”
May smiled. “You are human, after all.”
He looked at her, and the moment stretched. She tried to lighten it. “We could put a moat in the garden. To keep out the cats.”
He smiled, but it faded quickly. “You should know the real reason I wanted you to see this house.”
May felt more unease curl in her stomach. “What reason?”
He stepped back, fixing her with a look she could not decipher. “I am close to finding William’s family. His birth family.”
May heard the words, but they felt distant, as if spoken in another room. “William,” she repeated, distracted by the fact that he did not call the babe Rydal.
Logan’s face hardened, as if bracing for an argument. “I think you deserve to know. You have done more for that child than anyone, and soon he will have a home of his own.”
May swallowed, feeling her pulse jump in her throat. “And what will happen then?”
“You will be free,” Logan said. “With my name to shelter you, you can begin your own life. In this house. Or any house you like.”
The blue paper on the walls seemed to pulse, the color too bright. May stared at it, as if it could offer her a way out. She felt the sting behind her eyes and blinked. “You never asked what I wanted.”
He turned to her, and his eyes were cold again; the moment of vulnerability snapped shut. “It does not matter what I want, or what you want. This is the arrangement. You are the Duchess of Irondale. You deserve better than…” he stopped, his jaw clenching.
May straightened her spine. She wanted to scream, to grab him by the shoulders and shake sense into him. But she did none of those things. She simply nodded. “Fine.”
