Page 30 of Heartbreaker

He shouldn’t follow.

He should sit alone and eat his supper and retire to his room to rise early and get ahead of her. Butshouldwas no longer applicable for the Duke of Clayborn. Not whenmusthad taken over. Not whenneedwas pulling him along behind her, a dog on a lead.

She slid into a chair on the far side of the table, leavinghim with his back to the room, the heat of dozens of curious eyes unmistakable.

“Dukes are a rare sighting in these parts,” Adelaide said.

“Are we so obvious?”

She laughed, and the warm, full sound affected him like physical touch. He shifted in his seat as she said, “You cannot think you blend.”

“I can indeed think that.”

Another laugh, this one brighter. “In your lifetime, you have not blended.”

“I blended perfectly well yesterday afternoon.”

She cut him a disbelieving look. “You did not.”

“Why not?”

She enumerated the reasons on her fingers. “You walk like a duke. You talk like a duke. You dress like a duke.”

“I did not dress like a duke! I was wearing shirtsleeves and a greatcoat, workaday boots and a cap. I did not shave!”

She cut him a look. “And even your day-old beard was perfect. Soft and oiled and exactly the way a duke’s beard would be if he’d ever let anyone besides his valet see it.”

He couldn’t help raising a brow at that. “Soft, was it?”

She blushed.Triumph. “I couldn’t help but notice when I was making sure you stayed quiet. You couldn’t evenhidelike an ordinary person.”

“Ah,” he said, still enjoying the moment.

Her gaze tracked over his face. “Your beard grows quickly.”

He ran a hand over his cheek, where a day’s worth of scruff had grown. “I shave twice a day.”

They fell silent for a moment, locked in a stare before realizing simultaneously that they should not be discussing the rate of his beard growth. Gwen returned, two heaping platters of food in hand. Setting them on thetable, she looked from him to Adelaide. “He’s forgiven you, I see?”

Adelaide smiled and adjusted her spectacles, a pretty dimple flashing in her cheek. How had he missed that before now? “He enjoys a challenge.”

The tavern mistress laughed. “Well, he’s certainly got one with you lot.”

Clayborn looked to Gwen. “Lot?”

The woman ignored the question and tucked a hand into the pocket of her apron, extracting a small square of paper and passing it to Adelaide. “Came to the kitchen door not five minutes ago.”

“Hmm,” Adelaide said, sliding a finger beneath the wax seal. “It’s late.”

As Adelaide read the message, Clayborn leaned forward. Before he could decipher any of the words, her long fingers refolded the paper and slipped it into the folds of her skirts. “Thank you, Gwen. It looks as though I will stay the night after all.”

She hadn’t been planning to spend the night? “It’s raining sheets out there,” he said, surprise in his words. “Surely you weren’t intending to drive in it.”

Adelaide looked to him. “If your brother was intending to drive in it, I was, yes. But Lord Carrington and Lady Helene have made camp at an inn two hours’ ride up the road. In this weather, that’s closer to four hours, which means I”—she finally looked to the pile of food in front of her—“can gorge myself on Gwen’s steak and ale pie, roll up to bed, and make up the time tomorrow.”

“Aye, ye can.” Gwen laughed and waved to a dark-haired boy nearby. “I’ll have Wei bring your bags up.”

“I shall pay for my room, if you’ll have it, Miss Gwen,” he said to the proprietress before leveling Adelaide with a cool look. “Now that I have my money returned.”

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