Page 21 of The Duke's Sinful Deal
Roderick turned back, his steps slower now but no less deliberate. “Circumstances,” he repeated. “You will do better than that.”
Maxwell’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “A matron observed us in a compromising situation.”
Roderick’s brows lifted sharply. “Compromising,” he echoed. He shifted his weight, one boot turning slightly against the rug as he angled himself toward the desk. “How compromising?”
“Enough,” Maxwell said.
The word settled, heavy and final.
There was a brief silence. The fire shifted again, a log collapsing inward with a soft crackle. Somewhere beyond the study door, faint movement passed along the corridor before fading again.
Then Roderick exhaled, slower this time, his shoulders lowering as the meaning settled fully. “God help us,” he muttered, dragging a hand over the back of his neck. “Eleanor will kill me.”
Maxwell’s gaze flickered briefly toward the fire before returning. “She may.”
Roderick glanced up again, something more measured settling into his expression as the initial shock gave way to thought. “And James,” he added.
Maxwell inclined his head slightly. “Also a possibility.”
Roderick let out another breath, longer now, and pulled a chair back with a muted scrape before sitting. He leaned forward, forearms braced against his knees, his attention fixed fully on Maxwell. “And you,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You thought this the best course?”
“I did.”
“You still do.”
“Obviously, I do.”
Roderick studied him for a moment, his gaze sharper now, less reactive, more searching. The firelight caught unevenly along the edge of Maxwell’s mask, casting a shifting shadow across his collar. “Do not mistake me,” he said. “I understand the necessity. I do. But necessity does not answer every question.”
Maxwell did not respond. Instead, he rose, the movement controlled and unhurried, and crossed to the sideboard. The decanter touched glass with a soft clink as he poured, the amber liquid catching the light. He did not drink.
Roderick watched him. “What happened?” he asked. “Not the version you would give a magistrate. The truth.”
Maxwell turned slightly, glass in hand, though untouched. “She entered my chamber,” he said. “A misunderstanding followed. A witness was present. The situation required correction.”
Roderick leaned back in the chair, one ankle crossing over his knee, his fingers tapping once against his boot before stilling. “A misunderstanding,” he said. “That sounds remarkably unlike you.”
Maxwell’s expression remained unchanged.
Roderick tilted his head, watching him more closely now. “And Miss Barker,” he continued. “How did she take this sudden turn in her fortunes?”
Maxwell hesitated, though only briefly. “With clarity.”
Roderick’s brows rose. “Clarity.”
“She understood the implications,” Maxwell said. “And acted accordingly.”
Roderick let out a quiet huff of breath, his gaze dropping momentarily before lifting again. “That sounds more like her than anything else you have said.”
Maxwell’s grip tightened slightly around the glass before he set it aside. “You failed to mention?—”
Roderick’s expression shifted, something almost resembling amusement flickering at the edges. “Mention what?”
“That she is…” Maxwell paused, his gaze shifting briefly toward the desk before returning. “Unmanageable.”
Roderick’s lips curved. “Did I?”
Maxwell’s patience thinned. “You described her as unassuming.”
