Ernest glared at him and then started picking through his own salad with his knife.
“I don’t eat anything green,” he declared.
“How odd,” Will retorted.
Rose had to smother another smirk. It seemed Will was not concerned at all about raising the ire of his intended investment partner. She watched as Ernest picked all the chicken and tomatoes out of the lettuce and cucumber.
“How are you feeling now, Your Grace?” She asked him.
“Bloody awful!”
“Did the doctor give you any idea how long you may have to remain in bed?”
“How long you can avoid me, you mean?” He brandished a tomato on the end of a fork at her.
“I say what I mean, Your Grace.” She stared him down.
He dropped his gaze before she did, which gave her a feeling of satisfaction.
“Are you not at least pleased to be back in your rightful home?”
“No,” Ernest snapped. “Last evening should have been my wedding night, so am I pleased to be trapped here, in a far-flung wing of my own castle, eating nursery food? Absolutely not.”
Rose looked down at her hands.
“What is wrong with your face?” Ernest asked suddenly, and she looked back up.
“I am sorry, Your Grace?”
“You are all red. It is most unbecoming.”
Rose smiled and didn’t dare look at Will.
“It was very fair out today, Your Grace. I fear I sat in the rose garden too long.”
“An idle mind is the devil’s playground,” Ernest declared.
Rose definitely didn’t look at Will now as she felt the blood rush to her cheeks.
Ernest pushed his plate away towards his knees and slumped against the pillow once again. He had eaten hardly anything.
“You are conspiring to torture me,” he groaned. “And that dragon refuses to let me open the curtains, let alone the windows. There is no need for her to be here. You should do your wifely duties and look after me yourself, and I would tell you what to do and not the other way around.”
He flung his head back and stared at the ceiling. Now Rose did look at Will. His expression was inscrutable, but as she caught his eye, he turned his gaze on Ernest and shrugged.
“Perhaps you would prefer we left you in peace, Your Grace. Maybe it is too early for you to entertain visitors.”
“No!” Ernest said as forcefully as he seemed able to muster. “At least you can go. What use are you to me? He can stay.”
“As you wish, Your Grace.” She was more than happy to flee his bedchamber and Will. She moved across to the table and picked up her untouched plate, putting the discarded silver cover over it. “I shall take my supper to my bedchamber and leave you gentlemen to talk business in peace.”
She didn’t look back as she made for the door, but Will said softly behind her, “Sleep well!”
Will paced the corridor outside his bedchamber for a half-hour after Ernest had gone to sleep. It was late, and it seemed that the entire household had retired to bed. The afternoon had made him restless, and the long, drawn-out conversation with the Duke had stolen time he could have spent with Rose at dinner. Ernest was belligerent and arrogant. Will was usually only interested in working with people who shared his temperament. But this was not a typical situation. He had intended to stay as close to Barrington as possible in order to protect Rose, but he was no longer convinced that staying at the castle was a good idea. Rose was too close, too accessible, and so he paced.
There were no other guests staying and his quarters were some ways from the Duke’s, so he was able to try to tame his thoughts by wearing a path in the hall rug. It didn’t work.
Instead, he found himself wandering off down the corridors towards the main bedrooms above the entry hall. He remembered the route. He knew it was madness and that he might be seen by a footman or even Jennings. Who knew if they prowled the corridors at night. But he felt a magnetic need to be close to her.