Page 32 of Duchess By Condition
“I wouldn’t want…” She hesitated. “I’m worried about disturbing you.”
“No, I told you, you’re not disturbing me,” he said.
Of course, that wasn’t really what she was worried about. “It’s not appropriate for us to be in here together.”
“You mean because we don’t have a chaperone?” He shrugged. “You and I have been in many rooms unattended by now, Violet. I hope you trust me not to be ungentlemanly—and not to besmirch your reputation by telling tales about things that didn’t happen.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” she said. “I know that. I…I’m not dressed.”
He looked at her again.
She was intensely, viscerally aware of his eyes moving over her body. It was as if he were tracing every line and curve of her. And, of course, he could see so much more of her shape right now than he ever could when she wore her day clothes. It made her feel vulnerable.
“You should stay,” he said again, flipping his book back open. “You should stay, and we can read. There’s no reason not to, really. No one need ever know we were in here together tonight, and I trust you know I will be a gentleman.”
“I don’t doubt that,” she admitted. “If you wanted to cross a line, you might have done so when you found me in the underground chamber. I don’t think you would have waited forthismoment.”
“So you trust me?”
“I have…reasonable trust in you,” she said. “I understand the kind of man you are and I don’t think you will do anything untoward.”
“So you’ll stay?”
She drew a deep breath. “Against my better judgment…yes. I will stay.”
She went to the bookshelf and scanned for a moment, pulling down the first book she saw that looked somewhat interesting. It was a book about flowers, nonfiction, and the moment she sat down and opened it up, she knew she’d made the wrong choice. The pictures were lovely, and under other circumstances, she would have enjoyed them. But it was impossible to be swept away by pictures of flowers, and her mind stayed in the room, focused more on Jonathan than on her choice of reading material.
He was studying the pages of his book, and after a moment, he turned one of them. He peered at the contents intently. She wondered what he was reading about—but could she ask? He had implied that they would sit and read silently, not that they would speak to one another.
But why shouldn’t they talk? “What are you reading about?” she asked him quickly, before she could frighten herself out of doing so.
He lowered the book again. “It’s a tale about a knight,” he said. “He fights in a war. A very good story.”
“Perhaps I might read it when you’ve finished,” she suggested. “Then we would have something to talk about.”
He cocked his head to one side. “It isn’t the sort of thing I would expect a lady to enjoy,” he said. “There’s a lot of violence. A lot of bloodshed. It may not be to your taste.”
“Do you think I’m so frail that I can’t read about a little fighting?”
“I don’t know,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “I think you were too timid to hold a toad. That was what Noah said, right?”
“Well, I did touch that toad,” Violet said. “And I will read that book when you’re finished, if you’ll…permit me.”
She bit her lip. Where had that come from? She didn’t need his permission. The book was a part of the house’s library; it was hers every bit as much as it was his.
He didn’t say anything about that, though. He didn’t mock her for forgetting that she had a right to the book, nor did he try to talk her out of reading it again. “I’ll leave it out on this table after I’ve finished with it,” he suggested, patting the end table beside him. “You’ll be able to find it here.”
Violet nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “That’s thoughtful.”
“I’ll look forward to hearing what you thought of it.”
They sat quietly for a moment.
She noticed that, this time, Jonathan didn’t return to his book right away. It was as if he had now been just as disrupted by her presence as she had by his, and couldn’t focus any longer. His eyes kept darting to her, making her heart race. Did he find her so interesting that he couldn’t pay attention to his book? Was that what was happening?
“Wasn’t it awful?” he asked. “What Noah was saying today, I mean, about the way he was treated?”
It was as if she were a sail that had lost all its wind. The tension drained from her body. Of course, he hadn’t been thinking about her, finding her interesting.And why on earth should I wanthim to? No, he had simply been thinking about something he wanted tosayto her.
