Bewitching the Duke - Page 27

But what woman wouldn’t respond to the kisses of a handsome man? Besides, while he might be a rake, he was still a gentleman. He would most likely even apologize if she saw him tomorrow. And she would be gracious and accept his apology without condemning him. It was simply a mistake on both their parts.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. As footmen brought in the tub and buckets of water, she walked to the window and stared out. Had he returned yet? What if something had happened to him while he’d been searching for her?

“Has the duke arrived back home?” she asked one of the footmen.

“I don’t believe he left the house tonight, Miss White. He’s been in his study all evening.”

Oh, dear God, no one knew he’d left his study. “Ask Randall to check on His Grace. I thought I saw him near the pond when I was coming back from Mrs. Wells’s home.”

“Yes, miss.”

Once they were gone, she blew out all but one candle and slipped into the steaming water. A soft sigh escaped her as her cold muscles finally relaxed. He would be fine, she told herself. So why couldn’t she believe that? He’d been born and raised here. He knew this estate better than most. But if something happened to him, it would be her fault for not speaking up when he had called out for her.

She washed quickly and then dressed in her night rail again. Standing near her bed, she bit down on her bottom lip, worried that she had caused the Duke of Northrop harm. She blew out the candle and walked toward the window. Pushing the curtain back slightly, she stared out into the dark night. At least the rain had finally stopped.

Selina spied a figure by the pond and then gasped. For a long moment, she could only gaze down at him as if in a trance. She blinked, quickly pushed the curtain in front of the window, and moved away. Her hand shook as she reached for the servants’ bell. He’d been staring up directly at her.

Her hiding place had been discovered!

Colin stared up at the window on the third floor. His body trembled from the cold, wet clothing he wore but his mind raced with insane thoughts. Perhaps his mind was playing with him again. Trying to clear his mind, he looked away and then back to the window. The image of the woman was gone as quickly as the flickering light had disappeared.

Even as chilly as he was, he sat on the pond wall and continued to stare up at the window for a few minutes. When nothing reappeared, he counted the number of windows over and then decided to act. He raced back to the door of his study and then headed for the stairs.

“Your Grace, you’re all wet,” Randall exclaimed.

“Yes, I am, Randall.”

“Wait,” Randall said as Colin reached for the first step. “Your Grace, can you look at something?”

Colin growled. “Can it wait?”

Randall’s face crumpled. “I’m sorry, sir. I just . . .”

“What is it?” Colin asked, approaching the young man.

Randall pushed up the sleeve of his jacket and pointed to a small mole. “Do you think this is something I should ask Miss White about?”

Remembering that Randall wasn’t the brightest man in his employ, Colin mentally counted to ten for patience. “It’s a mole, Randall.” He pushed up the sleeve of his own jacket. “See, I have several on my arm too.”

“So, I don’t have to worry about it?”

“No, Randall.”

Randall let out an exaggerated sigh. “Thank you, Your Grace. Shall I call for a bath for you?”

“Not yet,” he answered as he turned back to the steps. He climbed the marble stairs, cursing his wet boots for slowing him down.

“When then?” Randall mumbled.

“Later.”

Colin didn’t stop until he reached the third floor. He counted off the rooms and then hurled the fourth door open so hard it bounced off the wall and swung back toward him. The room was completely empty. But as he walked inside, the smell of a recently blown out candle wafted past his nose. Mixed with the acrid smell was a hint of lavender.

Someone or something had been in this room tonight. He moved toward the linen press and opened the cabinet doors. It, too, was completely empty. He spun around. There were no cloths on the furnishings. He was not losing his mind.

“Your Grace, what are you about wandering up here this evening?” Mrs. Roberts walked into the room. “Why, you are soaked to the bone! You need to get those things off before you catch your death.”

He looked over at Mrs. Roberts and frowned. “I was outside and noticed a candle flickering up here. I came up to investigate.”

Tags: Christie Kelley Historical
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