“There is a path from here to my estate. It is a long walk. A couple hours at a brisk pace. George will make the journey soon and come back to us.”
“I’ll go now, Your Grace,” the coachman said.
“It is still raining,” the duke pointed out.
“And it shall rain the night. Best I be going now.” The old man gave her a sly glance. “I’ll be back with help soon, Yer Grace.”
Kitty frowned, suspecting the man lied, but couldn’t credit he would not heed his master’s command. It was as if they were friends. The notion was odd and entirely possible as evident by the fact the duke rolled his eyes.
Who is this man?
“With all alacrity, George, return with all alacrity,” the duke said with dry fondness. “Alert only the necessary staff. We must be protective of Miss Danvers’s reputation, and I do not wish to hear even a whisper of this incident.”
The man dipped into a quick bow and hurried away on legs that moved rather quickly despite their shortness. A strange sensation unfurled through her stomach when she sensed the intensity of the duke’s stare.
“Will he be back soon, do you think? And with the proper help?”
He grunted.
She sent him a scowl. “Was that an answer?”
He smiled. “I suspect he will be back when the roads are passable.”
“And when will that be, do you think?”
“A few days.”
Alarm jolted through her. “Days? Surely you jest!”
His eyes narrowed, shrewd and probing. “Perhaps two or three.”
She glanced around the cottage. To be alone with the duke for days? In this small cottage? The thrill of something unexpected and wicked tingled along her spine, but she quickly suppressed it. This situation was intolerable, and very different from being alone with him in a castle with dozens of servants, plus his sister and her governess. “And are you to promise marriage after?”
His expression became impenetrable. “Of course not.”
She folded her arms across her middle in a protective gesture, disliking the slight unease wafting through her. “Then you know that situation cannot happen. I cannot stay with you in this cottage for a few hours, much less days. It’s…it’s too improper, Your Grace!”
He hobbled over to the front door and held it open. A frigid wind blew through the door with misty rain. “I’m sure if you hurry you will catch up to George. He’ll gentle his pace, so you can keep up with him. There you can tidy up and reassure my sister I will return as soon as the roads are clear enough for a carriage to come for me.”
Shame burned through Kitty that she hadn’t thought to truly consider why they, too, were not trekking back to his estate if they were within walking distance. She made her way over to him. “How selfish I’ve been; you’re hurting. Please forgive me, Your Grace.”
“Think nothing of it,” he murmured after sending her a side-eyed assessing glance. “Do you wish to leave?”
She gripped her hands very tightly at her waist, indecision beating at her. He was in pain, and she did not want to leave him alone. She swallowed with difficulty. “No,” she finally breathed.
He closed the door and the latch with a soft snick. Immediately the sense of intimacy increased, even as the howling wind and beat of the rain muted. A soft grunt escaped him as he made his way back toward the fire. She’d never seen him limp so, and she felt wretched with shame. He had done everything to save her, the horses, and his coachman. At the cost of himself, and from the deep grooves bracketing his mouth, he was in agony.
“Let me help you, please,” she whispered fiercely.
“I am well, Miss Danvers,” he said, moving stiffly over to one of the armchairs. “The rain will pass soon, and then we will make our way to the estate.”
And what was he to do then? Suffer horribly in silence? Her throat went tight. “I can see you are on the verge of collapsing; please let me offer assistance. Did my touch not help before in the gardens?”
The raw flash of anger that seared from his eyes had doubt clawing at her. Dear God, had she offended his pride? “Your Grace—”
“I wonder, Miss Danvers, how industrious are you?”
“I beg your pardon?”