Page 17 of Love, the Duke
“What would you have done if someone other than me had followed you in here?”
“Exactly what you accused me of.” A hasty puff of air passed her lips as she continued to stare crossly at him. “Much as it would bother me to do so, I would pretend to be lost. Disoriented. Perhaps even faint in hopes of gaining sympathy.”
“Faint?”
A brief smile touched her lips, and he felt as if his stomach flipped over.
He frowned, even though he found her comment immensely amusing and wanted to belt out a good laugh. “You don’t have a weak bone in your spine, and you know it.”
He didn’t like admitting it, but there was a charm about her that pleased him. He wondered if she had any idea she could have him under her spell if she tried to entice him instead of irritating him at every turn.
“I suppose that fainting was a bit far-fetched,” she admitted without a pinch of arrogance in her tone.
Indeed,he thought, finding her so much more attractive than he’d wanted to. He could be enamored with her, but it simply wasn’t possible she was the lady he’d been waiting for.
“In any case, I don’t intend to share all my plans with you,” she went on after another brief smile. “However, I will say my best excuse is it’s my first time in London and I’ve never seen such luxurious homes. I inadvertently wandered away from the ballroom. But with the splendid beauty, I couldn’t help myself. Even the ceilings are worthy of attention with their design of wood casings, fretwork, and paintings. I enjoy reading and bear no shame for wanting to see the book room with its smells of aged books, pipe tobacco, lamp oil, and burned wood.”
She looked so innocent and expressively convincing as she spoke, a crack of a smile touched his lips as well. If she weren’t in essence accusing his best friend of theft, she’d be delightful.
“You are a spitfire, Miss Stowe.”
She gave a slight shrug of her shoulders and glanced around the room again. “No, but I do wonder if the duke might collect other things. The pieces he has in here are truly extraordinary.”
It was as if this beautiful, intriguing young lady was deliberately trying to anger him and get the better of him. If so, she wasn’t far from reaching her goal.
“We will settle this once and for all right now, Miss Stowe.” Hurst moved to stand almost toe-to-toe with her and immediately realized that was a mistake. He caught the enticing scent of her sweet womanly perfume. It teased his senses and tempted him to forget what he was going to say and, instead, gather her into his arms, snuggle her to him, and tease the warmth of her neck with kisses. Hurst blinked that image away and pushed such thoughts to the back of his mind.
Denying the pull of her attraction and leaning in closer, he said, “Wyatt doesn’t collect anything but winnings when he plays in matches for his sporting club. Most of these artifacts were amassed by his grandfather.” Though tense, he lowered his voice. “I’m going to tell you what I know your brother would say if he were still with us: Searching homes must stop.”
She remained strong against his closeness, but he knew it wasn’t easy for her when he saw her swallow hard before replying, “I’m not one to back down from something simply because it is difficult, Your Grace. If you’ll remember, you refused to help me.”
“You are damned right; I did. For your own good.”
Her arched brows shot up, but there was no way he was going to apologize for his language. And she might hear worse before their conversation was over.
“You are searching Wyatt’s home. A man who has never wanted anything in his life but to win his wife’s love. Which he finally did. He had a hospital built for military men wounded fighting Napoleon’s army and he fully supports it with an inheritance he received and his winnings from the Brass Deck, his sporting club. The last thing he’d have his eyes set on would be a religious artifact that would be important to believing people.”
Settling her shoulders a little lower was her only concession to the point she might have been wrong. “We will leave it that we are on opposite sides of the subject concerning the missing chalice and what I should do about finding it. I think we should peacefully go our separate ways. You don’t bother me, and I won’t bother you. I will agree what I seek is not in this house.”
But she did bother him in ways he tried not to think about. Hurst couldn’t agree they peacefully go separatepaths. Somehow, she was connected to him in a manner that had nothing to do with Winston or the chalice.
“I am a realistic man. What you are attempting is not only dangerous, but it’s like looking for your hairpin in a stack of hay. I don’t want to see you in any kind of jeopardy for this perilous behavior. Whoever stole the chalice from the church has probably sold it to someone in the dark underground world of London by now and it’s on its way to a wealthy collector in India or the Americas.”
He watched her suck in a deep silent breath. Her brow wrinkled in disbelief before it softened and morphed into concern. The truth of what he’d said wasn’t something she’d wanted to hear. It bothered him that his pronouncement had hurt, disappointed, or at least worried her, but it was true and had to be said.
“I won’t believe that.” Her voice was soft, somber, and inflected with sad truth. “I was told the man had made reference he desired it for his own collection.”
The way she reacted to his words caused Hurst to relax. He needed to do something to let her know he wasn’t the ogre she’d thought him to be. Not all the time anyway. Causing her pain wasn’t what he wanted to do. He hadn’t wanted to crush her spirit, but what she was doing could easily get her into more trouble than he could get her out of if she were caught. Whether or not he should, he felt responsible for her.
“Your disguise last week was cleverly put together. I would have never guessed you had blond hair.” He kept his voice low, persuasive. “It was astute of you to wear a dark wig and darken your brows too.”
She responded to his softer tone by easing the tightness of her shoulders. “I had excellent help from my maid and her brother, who is an apprentice at a tailor’s shop.”
“My bet is that he will own the shop one day. His workmanship is superb.”
Miss Stowe’s eyes brightened. “I thought so too. I’ll be sure to tell him about the compliment, but I won’t tell him who it came from.”
He gave her a slight nod. “But there is something—” He reached over and brushed his thumb across her eyebrow and then swept down and did the same at the edge of her chin.
