“I knew it!” she cried. “I’ve stumbled upon a secret collection of scandalous novels. Your Grace, how delightfully rakish of you.” She turned her back to him and fumbled with the lock.
“You’ll have no luck with that. It’s kept locked. For a reason.”
She shrugged merrily. “It’s a wonder what a hairpin can do.” She turned back, hairpin in hand, waving it at him, before flinging open the wardrobe. Rows of lace sleeves and gossamer silk skirts greeted her surprised face. She turned to the duke, an unasked question on her lips, momentarily silenced by the sight.
He had already turned away, wincing. “Allow me to say it one last time: you cannot have this chamber. Now kindly remove yourself and choose another.”
“Why?”
“Because I wish it to be so.”
Which she assumed was the standard response to so many things in a duke’s life. Because he wished it to be so, it was. Because he was wealthy and titled and male and the world must do his bidding.
“But doors are meant to be unlocked,” she exclaimed. “Chambers to be lived in. Curtains to be opened to allow the sunlight in.”
He crossed his arms over the vast bulk of his chest. He held out his hand. “Come with me, Miss Crewe. I shan’t ask again. I shall bundle you back up into that dustcloth and forcibly carry you out of here.”
She ran to the open window, putting distance between them.“But only look at this spectacular view, Your Grace. Why, just this morning I observed an attempted pickpocketing and lovers quarreling in the park. And there is a family across the street, I don’t suppose you know their names? They have a remarkable number of children. I count nine in all, and the eldest daughter must be making her debut this year because there is an inordinate amount of fuss over her wardrobe. I’m quite attached to her after only an hour of observation. I’ve decided that her name is Cygnette, because of the lovely curve of her neck, and that she will be the diamond of the Season. It’s wonderful fodder for the novel I’m writing.”
He paused, halfway to her, brows knitted together. “Which novel, the one with the dragon?”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? I visited Norwood & Pennington yesterday, before I met you, and Mr. Norwood didn’t want to publish my fantastical novel, but he said I might attempt to take up Lady Claridge’s mantle as the authoress of a new Clovercote tale. I have a detailed outline dictated by my mentor before she passed. I promised Mr. Norwood that I would submit half of the novel in a fortnight’s time. Hence, I require the best writing desk in the house.”
“You may have the desk, but not the room.”
Immobile. Unmalleable. He truly was carved of stone.
“But why?” she asked, hands on her hips, exasperated now.
He didn’t bother to answer this time. He advanced on her, eyes stormy, with the obvious intent of bundling her back into the window covering.
“I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” She rolled her eyes and exited the room as gracefully as one could in an overlarge dressing gown that dragged upon the floor, nearly tripping her with every step. “But don’t think this is over,” she whispered softly.
“I heard that, Miss Crewe,” the duke said tersely as he locked the door and pocketed the key. “Now, go and make yourself presentable. Your possessions will have arrived by now. My aunt Glynis—Lady Glynis to you—is coming soon. She’s to be your chaperone. She can’t find you looking like a...” He waved his hand at her.
“Hellion, Your Grace? I did warn you about my character,” she said archly.
He grunted. “Be in my study in precisely half an hour.” He spun on his heel and stalked away.
Tessie was waiting for her in the old room. “Was he very angry, milady? I never should have suggested that room, they do keep it locked except for cleaning! I only thought you would like the view ever so much, but I shouldn’t have taken you there.”
“Don’t fret, Tessie. Why such a fuss over one room? It’s ridiculous. And high time for a change! The duke is keeping secrets, Tessie, and I aim to uncover them.”
“I should think that’s not advisable, milady. You might come to trouble that way.”
“I’ve already come to trouble. The duke thinks I require a chaperone, though I don’t see the need for it. I’m to go and meet Lady Glynis in a half hour. I was told to make myself presentable.”
“Your trunk arrived, milady. I’ve already hung your gowns.”
“Thank you, Tessie. Which shall I wear, do you think?”
“The dove gray gown with the white lace collar.”
Tessie helped her dress, fastening the buttons at the back.
“Will I do?” Ana asked.
“What about your hair?”