Bewitching the Duke

Her unbound hair fell over her face as she worked on the binding. He swallowed back the desire to brush the hair away so he could stare at her face again. His gaze moved to the floor only to see her stocking-covered toes peeking out from her skirts. Why did the sight of her toes make his heart suddenly drum against his chest?

She was the wise woman. It was her mother’s fault that Mary died that night. With Miss White gone, he could concentrate on the good things to come for Kate and not all the horrors he remembered.

“Thank you,” he said gruffly as she tied the binding into a knot.

“You are most welcome, Your Grace.” She backed a step away from him and then held out her hands as if waiting for him to rise. “You need to lie down and elevate your foot for the rest of the day. Keep ice on it for twenty minutes at a time, several times during the day. I’ll come back tomorrow and check on the swelling.”

“I do not have time to be resting. There are far too many things that need to be completed before the wedding.” Colin crossed his arms over his chest.

“You can direct the servants from the sofa in the salon. But you will need at least two or three days off that ankle.”

“I have sprained this ankle before and I know exactly what it needs,” he retorted. “Now take your leave.”

“As you wish.” She walked back to the windowsill and picked up her ceramic bowl with the burned sage. “May I at least continue with this?”

“No. I do not need my house cleansed.” He’d had enough of her fussing about him. All he wanted was her out of his house now. She brought back memories that needed to be forgotten. And desires he couldn’t act upon.

“Very well then. Good day, Your Grace.” She turned and left without another word.

Colin sat back in his leather chair and blew out a long breath. He needed to get rid of her forever. The longer she stayed on the estate, the more his memories would eat into him. Perhaps once she left he could be happy here again. Her departure might free him of the strangling recollections so he might enjoy his home again.

Determined to find her and tell her at once that she must leave immediately, he stood and took a step. Pain shot up the length of his leg. “Dammit!”

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, she was right. He needed to take a day or two off his foot. “Roberts,” he shouted.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Roberts said as he reached the entrance to the study.

“Get me a cane and help me into the salon.” Dammit. He hated feeling like an invalid in front of his servants.

“Of course, Your Grace. I’m so glad you are taking Miss White’s advice.”

“I am only doing exactly as I have done every time I’ve wrenched my ankle over the years.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

Miss White. He swore that if he heard that name one more time today, he would dismiss the person who said it. Miss White. He didn’t even know her Christian name.

“Roberts,” he asked as they hobbled toward the salon, “what is Miss White’s name?”

“Selina, sir.”

Selina. A lovely name for a beautiful woman. He shook his head quickly. He could not allow his thoughts to go there again. She was just as bad as her mother.

He needed her gone immediately.

Selina approached the house with trepidation the next day. The duke reminded her of a wounded animal, ready to strike out at anyone trying to help him. She would need to handle him with extreme care. But no one, not even the Duke of Northrop, would

dissuade her from her duties on the estate.

The door opened as she approached. Mr. Roberts stood in the doorway with a frown.

“Good morning, Mr. Roberts. How is he today?” she asked softly, in case he was within hearing distance.

“He’s a dreadful patient, miss. Bad-tempered, drinking, and swearing. At least he did stay on the sofa yesterday.”

“And today?”

“He’s in his study.”