“Happy, in fact,” she beamed at him. “What about you?”
Coal black eyes met hers. For a moment, she pictured him whirling back around to the group and unleashing his anger on them.
But instead he did the unexpected.
He certainly didn’tsayanything in response, but that’s because his face said it all.
The tiniest of tugs pulled up on the corner of his mouth.
One might almost call it a smile.
Chapter 6
Honoria
“Dermont?” Honoria hissed again in the quiet corridor. “Are you here? Frederick said you wanted to talk.”
It had been a full nineteen hours since the rope-typing, request-making, water-falling events of yesterday. To say Honoria was still in a state of befuddlement was understating it. Now this. Now this ridiculous request from Frederick in the middle of a garden party.
Tentatively, she tiptoed forward a few steps. It was beyond odd that Frederick had directed her here, but she was desperate to secure cooperation from the duke. So when his friend hadinstructed her to go inside during the garden party to find him, she merely asked her sisters to cover for her.
“Dermont?” she whispered again. Really, how far was she willing to go to paint the duke and put the portrait? Willing to risk reputation it seemed. And she needed to do it now. Eight weeks was hardly enough time to schedule the sittings, contact the gallery, and allow for the paint to dry.
After living her whole life in a restricted environment, she wanted to see her father’s task through. Not just because it was one of his dying wishes, but because of the reason behind it. Her father, William, had always suppressed his true joy because his wife had inexorably managed a strict home. Much to her former diamond-of-the-first-water face and thin-framed chagrin, she had raised eight very voluptuous daughters. Probably all the more reason Flora placed such stringent strictures on them regarding food, and really any kind of pleasure or enjoyment.
A knock jolted her out of musings.
Looking around for the source of the sound, Honoria cautiously approached a door. “Dermont?” she asked with disbelief.
A familiar grumble replied, “Open the damn door, Honoria.”
“What?”
“Open. The. Door.”
“Wait—are you stuck? In there?”
A faint thud sounded on the other side, quite like the sound one might hear if a man was banging his head against the door.
“Dermont? Are you locked in there?”
“Yes.” She could feel the seething breath from the hallway. “Let me out.”
Something clicked in her head. The duke was an extremely capable man. Look how he’d disassembled her ropes—though that might be saying more about her roping abilities. There was no way he accidentally locked himself in what she assumed wasa closet. Since Frederick had sent her in here after him, she drew the conclusion that this was a set up, and for some reason she had an unexpected ally.
A grin split her face, she placed her hand on the door, and in her sweetest voice she reassured him, “Of course, Dermont. I’ll let you out immediately."
The silence that ensued was interrupted by a weary sigh. “If…?”
“Well, I really do think this kind of rescue would warrant a favor in return, don’t you?”
No response.
“And I think the perfect way for you to show your gratitude would be to allow me to paint your portrait.”
Silence.
“Wouldn’t you agree?”