Page 41 of Yours Truly, the Duke
The book room was far more than a reading room. He always came in here when he had important things to think about. It was the place he always felt closest to his father. Some of his earliest memories were of sitting on his father’s knee behind the big desk and watching him read and write correspondence.
Wyatt sat in this room each month and critically and accurately assessed every account book. Through all his tutelage growing up, and even more recently, Wyatt had followed his father’s example and was never neglectful in his studies or his duty to learn about the vast holdings of the dukedom. Nor anything else. Before his father had died of severe stomach pain eight years ago, he’d told Wyatt to trust and listen to his solicitor, managers, and advisors but go with his gut. That advice had served him well.
He couldn’t help but wonder what his father would have done concerning Fredericka. No doubt he would have carried on as usual, and that’s exactly what Wyatt intended to do. The Season in London was the busiest time for sporting clubs to make money. He had to stick to his schedule and keep the money coming in for the hospitals.
“Some of the books are very old with thick, textured parchment pages,” Fredericka added. “It’s marvelous to smell the scent of old paper. Some of the leather bindings have dried, are brittle, and need restorative oil or beeswax.”
Wyatt remembered the odor well. His father had loved combing through the old books to see when a section of land had been added to the estates or if a particular person might be related from a long-ago marriage. He had loved books, so maybe he would have liked Fredericka.
“No one ever goes up there,” Wyatt grumbled, pushing aside the special reminiscences. “Particularly at night.”
“Someone should once in a while.” She looked pointedly at him. “It’s dusty, and these books are in need of some attention. There are many interesting topics on these shelves that I would like to explore one day—should I ever return to London.”
She could really test his patience. And everything else. Of course she would return one day. Later. When he was ready to have a son.
The room was exactly how his grandfather decorated it. His father hadn’t seen fit to change anything, and Wyatt didn’t either. If it had needed more light for the evenings his grandfather would have put in more lamps. Besides, most men didn’t read in the book room at night. It was where friends gathered to have a brandy, a glass of port, and private conversations away from the distractions of servants milling about and cleaning up after dinner.
Wyatt had been drawn to Fredericka since he first looked at her. What he’d felt the afternoon they met had been more than that fleeting spark of intrigue a man can have for a woman who strikes his fancy. He’d thought to get back to London and forget about her, but his desire for her had lingered and now that she was here it was increasing.
Keeping his thoughts away from where they wanted to drift, he argued, “I assumed you were looking for a book to read, Fredericka. There are plenty of them on the lower shelves that you can easily reach. Hundreds. In several different languages. You don’t need to be scrambling up the ladder. Day or night. Most of the volumes up there are old journals about the family history andout-of-date account books about the dukedom and its entailed properties.”
“I’ve noticed that.” She slipped the book she was holding back into the slot it came from. “But they would be fascinating reading.”
Wyatt gripped both sides of the ladder and stared up at her. From this odd vantage point she looked absolutely fetching. She was still dressed in the pale apricot-colored dress she’d worn that morning, though she’d added a matching velvet spencer with a green satin ribbon holding it together at the neckline. Her golden-brown eyes were sparkling as if she were on the verge of doing something devilishly mischievous and knew he would want to be a part of it. She hadn’t wilted at all beneath his irritable mood.
That impressed him. Still, she shouldn’t have made the climb.
“Why are you not in bed at this hour?”
It was her turn to sigh and she did it so prettily his stomach did a slow roll as she stared down at him. “How could I go to sleep? I was worried about you. I’ve been expecting you all evening. Where have you been?”
A grunt flew from his throat. Had she really just asked him that? Ah, yes, now he remembered being told that wives always expected their husbands to come home at a respectable hour. That was irritating.
Wyatt straightened and ran a hand through his hair, letting it stop to rest on the back of his neck where tense muscles ached. His eyes felt as if they were pushing out of his head and his temples thumped loudly in his ears.
The devil take it.
Nothing had gone well for him this day. Not his early and unsatisfying meeting with Epworth concerning the Lord Chancellor, the defeat of his final fencing matchof the morning, or the loss of the card tournament tonight. Certainly not the many claps on the back he received throughout the day from men congratulating him that his wife had finally decided to join him in London. He had even managed to brush off Hurst and Rick when he knew they wanted to share a brandy and conversation about Fredericka after the last game.
As his closest friends for as long as he could remember, they deserved to know a little about his wife’s sudden appearance in London. And he would share a word or two about it with them, but at a more appropriate time.
Now to top off the evening, his beautiful, stirring wife was asking him where he had been. He wanted to snap back that he wasn’t used to accounting to anyone for his comings or goings and he wasn’t going to start. But her gentle manner was so appealing. He had no choice but to do what any other well-brought-up English gentleman would. Ignore the question and speak only to her comment. Which was legitimate.
“Worried about me?” He hadn’t had anyone worry about him since he was old enough not to fall down the stairs.
“Yes,” she answered softly. “I assumed you would return earlier.”
No matter the drink, the lack of sleep, and the losses, Wyatt held his eyes steady on hers and what he saw fascinated him. She wasn’t condemning him or being intrusive. She was genuinely concerned about him and had spoken her true feelings. That was sweet, but annoying too.
“Why?”
“Probably the same reason you waited in here for me last night. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I heard what happened at Chancery today.”
Wyatt rubbed his neck again and struggled to remember exactly what he’d said to her before he left that morning. His head was so heavy it seemed like days ago rather than hours.
Seeming to understand his hesitancy in responding to her, she continued, “You told me you would speak to the Lord Chancellor or someone at court today about the situation with Jane and get it settled. I thought surely you’d return by midafternoon to tell me all was well and I could return to Paddleton as soon as transportation was arranged. The children waited too, but I finally put them to bed after a late supper.”
He grimaced and took in a long intake of breath. “You kept the children up?”
