Page 89 of Duke of Iron
His eyes glinted. “Well played.”
They finished the main course in companionable quiet. May found herself wishing the meal would never end, that they might eat their way through every course in the city until it grew too late for anyone to return to their own, separate beds.
After a while, Logan said, “I am not satisfied with the Grosvenor house.”
May blinked. “You did not like it?”
“It is adequate. But I require more than adequacy. I have never cared for half-measures.”
May’s lips curled. “You are very particular.”
“I am,” he agreed. “And I suspect you are as well.”
She considered this, then nodded. “Perhaps. I have lived a long time in borrowed rooms. It is strange to imagine one’s own.”
Logan watched her with something unreadable in his expression. “Then we will wait for the right one. No less.”
She felt her cheeks grow warm and was grateful for the dimness. “You are very determined.”
“So I have been told,” he said, a shade too lightly.
The servants arrived with the pudding. May took a single spoonful and set it aside. Logan did not touch his.
“You wish to ask me something,” he said, voice mild.
May startled. “I do?”
He smiled, slow and sure. “You always do, when you pinch the edge of your napkin.”
She looked at her hands, found herself indeed doing exactly that, and let go at once. “I was only wondering—” She stopped, started again. “Why do you want to move at all? This house is… more than sufficient. And the nursery is already arranged.”
He considered. “It is haunted.”
She blinked. “By what?”
He leaned back, hands steepled. “Memory.”
May waited, hoping he would continue.
He did not.
She found herself speaking before she quite intended to. “Do you think the new house will be less so?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps. Or perhaps it will simply be a place where the ghosts are more interesting.”
She smiled, small and sad. “I would not mind sharing a house with a few ghosts, if the company were good.”
He gave her a look, half smile, and half challenge. “You would have to tolerate me.”
“I am very skilled at tolerating you,” she said, and meant it.
He grinned. “You may find it more difficult than you expect.”
She wanted to answer him, wanted to say I do not find it difficult at all, but the words would not form.
Instead, she stood. “If you will excuse me, I am very tired. It was a long day.”
He inclined his head. “Of course, Duchess.”
