Page 9 of The Duke of Ruin
“Ah. That can be a delicate endeavor. What are your plans once we reach your cousin’s?”
“I don’t know.” She turned her head to find him watching her intently. He was very handsome—a fact they’d all agreed upon at the house party. The Duke of Kilve was the more sought after, but only because he wasn’t saddled with the horrid reputation of the man in front of her. They were very close friends, the two dukes, but their demeanors had been quite different. Kilve had been cool and aloof—a façade he’d erected to protect himself. Romsey, on the other hand, laughed easily and worked his charm with anyone who would pay attention. And Diana and her friends had paid attention, as much as their parents had allowed.
Diana’s father had made it very clear that he wouldn’t tolerate a match between her and theDuke of Ruin, the abominable nickname attached to him because of his past sins. Or alleged sins. Diana wasn’t his judge.
Yes, he was very attractive, with dark hair and dark eyes. And yet both were touched with gold. In his hair, there were lighter strands woven here and there with the dark, and in his eyes, sparkling flecks near the center that gave him an air of mischief. But there were also fine lines around his eyes and a few around his mouth that revealed a private agony perhaps. And given what she knew of his wife’s death, she didn’t doubt that he’d suffered. She longed to ask him the truth but hadn’t gathered the courage.
They had days and days together. She might find the audacity yet.
For now, she would tread carefully—and try very hard not to fall under the spell cast by his enchanting gaze. He always looked at her with such care and honesty. It was nearly impossible to think of him as a murderer. But she reminded herself, as she always did, that appearances could be deceiving. She had no further to look than her father.
“Well, you have several days to decide what to do,” he said bringing her attention back to the conversation. “How can I help?”
“You’re already helping, thank you.”
“I won’t feel right just depositing you in Lancashire without a plan. In fact, I’m still not entirely certain of our final destination.”
That, at least, was something she knew. “Blackburn.”
His brows climbed to an alarming height. “As in the Duke Who Disappeared?” It wasn’t the same sort of duke nickname that Romsey and Kilve were saddled with, but it served its purpose, she supposed. It told you precisely who the Duke of Blackburn was with the utmost notoriety.
“Precisely. My cousin is the Duchess of Blackburn.”
Romsey blew out a breath between his lips. “I remember when he went missing. What a tragedy. How many years ago was that now?”
“More than six. Long enough that his absence doesn’t trouble Verity.” As if it ever had. She’d immediately regretted marrying him, so much so that she’d felt guilty at her relief when he’d disappeared without a trace. “I look forward to seeing her—it’s been nearly two years since we were together.”
“It sounds as if you and she are close. Once you arrive, perhaps she can help you decide what to do. Unless you have your mind set already.”
Her thoughts went immediately to the fantasies she’d indulged the day before—an independent life with a home of her own, teaching young girls…
“It looks like you might,” he said softly, stealing into her thoughts once more.
She’d averted her gaze to the window beyond him in the door of the coach. Now she adjusted it back to his. Those gold flecks seemed to dance with anticipation.
Suddenly, she thought of his lips against hers at the house party. She’d been so shocked that she hadn’t reacted. His mouth had lingered on hers just long enough for her to feel as if she were melting. And then he’d gone, leaving her cold and strangely bereft.
She blinked. “It’s nothing.” She bent her head to her book once more.
“It can’t be nothing. I detected the very beginning of a faint smile. Nothing doesn’t spark smiles.”
“What a ridiculous sentence,” she said, allowing the smile to come.
“Indeed it is, but you gather my meaning. Tell me your heart’s desire.”
He used the phrase she had yesterday when referring to Kilve. ‘Heart’s desire’ typically meant love, didn’t it? But only the luckiest people fell in love, and Diana had never felt particularly lucky.
When she still didn’t respond, he leaned closer. “You can tell me. I’m good at keeping secrets.”
She swung her gaze to his and, for some reason, decided to tell him. “What you suggested yesterday… It might be nice to have my own cottage. Somewhere I could teach. Maybe.” She shrugged as heat rose up her neck.
“That’s lovely.” His response was gentle, almost reverent. “There’s a workhouse in my district that recently opened a small school as part of its program. I gave them much of my library—well, what they would want, anyway. I’m afraid there are many volumes that would be absolute drudgery to get through.”
“You gave your library away?”
“I found a place where it would get far more use.” He cocked his head to the side. “What would your family say about marrying me?”
And just like that, the magic of the moment was lost as reality invaded. “Nothing good. I wouldn’t be allowed to do such a thing. Which is where the other part of your suggestion comes in. I’d have to disappear—change my name and leave Diana Kingman behind.”
