My Darling Duke

He stared at her, assessing the needs burning through him. “I like you.”

“You say that as if it is a grave crime,” she said with a teasing smile, though her eyes were curious…scared, almost, as they caressed his face.

Damn his selfish hide. She invited this, his ruthless heart whispered. Everything had changed. Everything.

“Perhaps it is,” he murmured.

Then he faced the breaking dawn, lifting his face to the paltry sunshine as it broke through the swollen clouds. At times like this, he needed no conversation, and he would spend the first hour or two of the day in silence.

He wanted to share his silence…his loneliness.

Except with her breathing in his space, the soft rasp of her breath lingering in the air…it filled the room with a measure of peace. Odd, to be certain. But there it was. Contentment.

Silence had always been dark, a reflection of past nightmares, a reminder of loneliness, an echo of emptiness. Now this silence seemed intimate, tender, hushed, hesitant, and a question lingered within its confines.

What do I hope for?

…

Kitty and the duke were kissing friends.

Such conduct, if it were known by society, would sink Kitty below reproach. It was outrageous and wicked, and she did not regret it.

She took a breath, feeling grumpy at the stiffness of her clothes. They had been barely wet earlier, and she had redressed with the duke’s help into the damaged clothing. He, too, had redressed, and they hadn’t spoken as she had acted his valet.

No, Kitty had been too busy blushing.

After more than an hour watching the sunrise in silence, hunger forced them to dress and had driven them to the larder, where they had stared, bemused, unsure what to do. Now they were in the small but very neat kitchen, determined to figure out something to eat. That packed larder hadn’t been with food already prepared. And Kitty planned several ways on how to gut George when she saw him. The man could have returned to them with help hours ago. But clearly, he wanted her alone with the duke! The sheer gall of it was flummoxing.

The duke took it all with his peculiar dash of humor, even though he swore to reprimand the man if he did not return today.

“I do not think we are getting it right,” the duke said dubiously, glancing from Kitty to the worn sheaf of paper in his hands.

“Not at all,” she replied cheerfully, “I daresay we are doing fine. We’ve followed all the instructions written down.”

“I’ve never seen such a lump at my table before. And let me tell you, Mrs. McGinnis works in my kitchen.”

Kitty scowled, some of her triumph and pride leeching away. They dipped their heads in unison, looking once more on the recipe. Kitty had been the one to spy the recipe papers and had adventurously declared that they were highly intelligent people and could figure out how to bake a simple cake. Why, she spoke three languages and excelled at watercolors and geography. The duke shockingly spoke nine languages. He was a great orator in the House of Lords and had once been praised and revered for his statesmanship. Surely two crafty and cunning heads could produce a cake eligible for consumption.

Only now, Kitty doubted it.

“I think…I think we forgot the eggs,” she muttered, squinting at the paper. “I did not see any eggs in the larder.”

“I thought I heard a fowl outside.” The duke peeked at her sideways. “I do not jest. Unless my hearing is now impaired.”

They glanced down at the half-white lump of batter on the stone counter.

“I do not recall adding sugar, do you?” Alexander asked with a heavy dollop of skepticism.

“That was your job. Can you not recall?”

The duke grabbed the large earthenware bowl over to his side of the counter. He bravely pinched off a piece of the dough and popped it into his mouth. His eyes widened before they fluttered closed. He made a rough sound. She clasped her hands and waited, but the dratted man only chewed. “Well! How is it?”

His mien was serious as he replied, “Divine.”

“Truly?” She pinched a piece, popped it into her mouth, and choked. Dear God! “We are going to starve,” she said mournfully.

A flash of a smile. “Rubbish. If it gets bad, we’ll simply eat the dough. I’ve had worse.”