Page 78 of The English Duke
She didn’t follow the path to the boathouse. She wouldn’t go there again. In the morning they’d leave for home. Once at Griffin House, she’d devote herself to experiments on the prototype she’d created on her own.
She would never correspond with the Duke of Roth. In fact, she would destroy every one of his letters to her father, the selfsame letters she’d read repeatedly until she’d memorized his words, knew his handwriting by sight.
Everything she knew about Jordan Hamilton would have to be expunged from her mind. Every single emotion she felt would have to be washed clean. He would be her brother-in-law, a relative by marriage. She could never feel for him what she felt last night and even memories of those hours would have to be erased.
“Can you not sleep, Martha?”
She held herself still, wishing in that instant he would think her a shadow as well.
Go on past, make your way to the boathouse, ignore me.Above all, leave me alone.
“No,” she said, her voice faint. “I can’t. I might ask the same question of you.”
He didn’t answer her, merely moved out of the shadows. He was leaning more heavily on his walking stick and she wanted to ask if his leg was paining him.
She didn’t, knowing he probably wouldn’t answer such a question. He didn’t refer to his injury easily and he certainly didn’t solicit sympathy. It was as if he wanted everyone to treat him as though he’d never had an injury.
Didn’t he realize she didn’t see him as infirm? With his determined refusal to solicit sympathy, he was even more attractive.
How could he marry a woman who’d called him lame?
“The stars look close tonight,” he said, tilting his head back to examine the night sky.
He was right. There wasn’t a cloud to be seen and the moon was like a bright white orb she could almost pluck by merely reaching out her hand.
The silence in the garden was absolute except for the sound of the lake just beyond, the water lapping at the shore. Not a bird spoke from its nightly roost. Not an insect chirped. No sound came from Sedgebrook, settled down for the night. Even the wind had calmed here in the secluded garden.
It would serve him right if she burst into tears. She almost wanted to leave him as confused and disoriented as she felt.
“You’re leaving in the morning,” he said.
“Yes.”
“They’ve found my ship, but you won’t have a chance to examine the vessel.”
“No,” she said.
“Perhaps it’s a good thing. It’s covered in mud. It’ll take me some time to clean it out.”
“Will you put a tether on it from now on? So you don’t lose it?”
“I think I shall,” he said. “It’s a good idea.”
How polite they were being.
She walked to one of the backless benches and sat, moving aside the skirts of her lavender dress in case he chose to sit. He did, joining her a moment later.
He held the walking stick with his right hand as he stared out at the shadowed rosebushes. The air was thick with scent and almost heavy.
Words hung unsaid between them.How could you not remember me? How?
She couldn’t say that to him.
“Is your leg paining you? Is that why you’re not asleep?”
“Yes,” he said, “but it’s something I’ll endure.”
“How were you injured?”
