Page 47 of The Duke of Lies
“Good,” he murmured, his gaze warm and intense. A cloud moved over the sun, casting a shadow over them, and a shiver shook his frame.
“We need to get you out of those wet clothes,” she said firmly. “And into a warm bath.”
“Do I need a bath too?” Beau asked, taking both their hands again as they started up the hill.
“At least the parts of you that were in the pond, I think.”
Beau exhaled, knowing better than to argue with her about it. Which wasn’t to say he wouldn’t, but for now, he’d decided not to, and Verity appreciated that.
“As long as I’m taking a bath, you should too,” Rufus said. “You can be quick, and do you know how I know that?”
“How?”
“Because we’re going to fill one tub and you’ll bathe first, and I’ll make sure you’re fast so the water is still warm enough for me.”
Beau looked up at his father. “Shall we race?”
Rufus glanced over at her for approval, and she nodded. “You can use the bathing chamber that adjoins my bedroom,” she said. “It’s the closest to the kitchen since the stairs go right down next to it—that’s where I usually give Beau his bath.” She’d be sure to stay very far away until she was sure they were done.
“We’ll race to the kitchen,” Rufus said. “Go!” He let Beau start, then flashed a grin at Verity before taking off after him, the basket swinging in his hand. She ought to have taken it from him but hadn’t even thought to offer. She was too caught up in how normal this felt.
No, not normal. It felt wonderful. It felt like a family. She’d never had this, not beyond her and Beau.
And theywerea family. This man treated Beau as his son, playing with him, teaching him,bathinghim. She’d considered preventing the latter, but she knew he would care for Beau the same as she would. She trusted him—with Beau. With herself? She wasn’t ready to address that yet.
She watched them crest the hill and race toward the house. Rufus kept up but didn’t overtake Beau. By the time she reached the stable yard, they were gone from view, disappearing into the lower courtyard. She went directly to the kitchen to ask who won. The cook laughingly said Beau did, of course.
Because she couldn’t go to her chamber or her study, she went to the library to pass the time. When she thought it had perhaps been long enough, she went upstairs to the Guinea Room, where Beau took afternoon lessons. Finding him there with still-damp hair, he told her they’d finished their baths and Papa was getting dressed. She kissed Beau on the forehead before she went along the corridor toward her room at the end. The middle chamber belonged to Rufus, and since the door was shut, she assumed he was inside.
Was he clothed or still nude?
The thought brought a hot, fast blush to her face, and she hurried to her chamber and then into her study. She was so confused! She was somehow attracted to Rufus—or whoever he was. Not just because he was physically handsome, which he very much was, but because of his behavior and his actions. His character.
Planning to write a letter to Diana in which she could unburden her distressing thoughts, she first poked her head into the bathing chamber. The staff had not yet come to empty the tub. The clothing had all been cleaned up, however. Had Rufus done that? And had he helped Beau to get dressed? She should have asked her son.
Her eye caught a swath of white fabric near the corner on the floor. She went and picked it up—a length of silk. His cravat. Her gaze moved to the hook on the wall above from where it had surely fallen.
The silk was soft and smooth between her fingers. She imagined the flesh of his neck feeling the same way—warm too. Except near the end of the day when his whiskers sprouted. Not quite smooth, then, and maybe not soft. Perhaps rugged and appealing to the touch.
She brought the fabric to her nose and inhaled. It smelled faintly of pine and grass and more strongly of male. Not just any male, ofhim. Not that she’d ever been close enough to smell him. No, this was as close as she’d been, and perhaps as close as she’d ever get.
A gentle cough drew her to turn.
Her heart paused as her eyes met his. His hair was also damp, and she had the disappointing answer to her earlier question—he was dressed.
She abruptly lowered the cravat from her face and knew her embarrassment at being caught was evident. Still, she held her head high and ignored the heat in her cheeks.
“I, ah, left that.” He inclined his head toward the cravat in her hand.
“Yes, I just found it on the floor.” She walked to the doorway and held it out to him.
His bare fingertips grazed her palm as he took the garment. “Thank you.”
“Thank you.” She wanted to say more, to expand on that.Thank you for looking after the estate. Thank you for taking care of Beau. Thank you for respecting me. Thank you for coming home.
Only this wasn’t his home. And that should’ve frightened her to pieces.
What frightened her more was that it didn’t.
