Page 48 of A Scandalous Kind of Duke

“But it is done now, isn’t it?” she added softly. “We cannot be friends anymore, can we?”

“No. We cannot.”

He didn’t move. She was missing something, she felt, like listening to a conversation between scholars, and understanding the words but missing the meaning.

“My invitation stands,” he said quietly. “You remain the cousin of my friend. I cannot make up for how I treated you yesterday, but allow me to assist you in this predicament today. What do you wish to do?”

“I don’t know.” She was not good at dissembling. She tumbled straight back into speaking the truth. “I am still angry with you after yesterday, and confused because we kissed. Yet I am happy to see you, and sad to know we must part, and… Not for a minute did I imagine I might see you today, or ever again, and now I do not know what I feel or what to do with myself.”

She glanced across the square. It might be lovely to finally see inside his home. Then again, it might be a terrible mistake.

Oh, it was so very tempting. One more hour. Then she’d say farewell and stop seeing him. Just one more hour and then she’d stop.

Yet she said, “It seemed to me, after yesterday, it would be best for all concerned if we never spoke again.”

His expression did not change. “Certainly.”

“And you were right—we should completely sever our connection.”

“That would be best.”

Silence fell. Neither moved. Juno studied her cotton gloves. A seam was fraying. Leo studied his walking stick, then lifted his chin and studied the sky.

It was he who broke the silence.

“Right. Would you like to come in?”

“Yes, please.”

CHAPTER14

Leo’s house was a wonderland.

Juno left him in the lobby, introducing Mrs. Kegworth to his housekeeper, and ducked through the first doorway into what ought to be a front parlor.

It was no ordinary front parlor, but a splendid gallery.

Daylight streamed in through the broad windows, to ricochet from one gleaming object to the next. She hardly knew where to turn her hungry, dazzled eyes: a music box painted with constellations, a perfume burner shaped like a dancing ballerina, a red porcelain vase stuffed with gardenias.

She paused at a pair of candlesticks carved from rose marble: one showed Apollo reaching out, the other was Daphne, turning away.

Leo had told her about these, she recalled. He had spoken fondly of the workshop in Derbyshire and related the myth about Apollo’s obsessive pursuit of Daphne, who had been compelled by Cupid’s love-repelling arrow to deny the love of men. Apart, the candlesticks told a tale of hopeless yearning; when placed close together, Daphne fit perfectly into Apollo’s embrace. She had thought of drawing the myth, but had not. She didn’t remember why.

She ran her fingers over the cool marble of Apollo’s outstretched arms. Leo’s collection might be dismissed as the vanity of a bored, wealthy man, but to Juno it reflected his need for connection. His position isolated him from the world, though he might not realize it, for it was simply how he had been raised. But to seek out artisans, to learn their stories and sit with them while they worked? That was not the behavior of a duke who believed himself above others. It was the behavior of a man who wanted to be connected to the world.

Her heart squeezed. The house was so big. Leo ought not to be alone.

She wandered on, pausing before a teardrop-shaped mirror. The wooden frame was carved in an autumnal theme, with playful birds pecking at blackberries and field mice peering out from under leaves.

Her own reflection stole her attention. She looked well enough, she thought. Composed, at least. Her hair was not as messy as she’d feared, nor her cheeks so pink.

This was the woman whom Leo desired, she thought a little smugly. The knowledge of their mutual desire had forged something new between them. They could do nothing about it, but it was there all the same.

A movement in the mirror: Leo had entered. She studied his reflection, his unguarded expression as he raked his gaze over her back.

Yes, he desired her.

He looked up. Their eyes met in the mirror.

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