“You are not a burden,” the Duke said. His voice was low, stripped of its usual cadence.
“Iknowthat. Or I know that is what he would say.” She tucked her cloak closer against the cold. “Knowing it and feeling it are occasionally two different countries.”
He was quiet for a moment. “You are lucky,” he said then, so quietly she almost didn’t catch it. “To have a brother to fight with.”
Caroline turned sharply and inspected him. The Duke’s eyes held no mirth, nor did they show any signs of distress. He was calm and virtually unreadable.
For all the time she had spent this evening getting to know him better, Caroline realized then that her knowledge still had massive gaps. “You have no siblings, then?”
The Duke’s brows furrowed. “I…”
Before he could answer completely, the carriage driver called, “Are we leaving so early?”
“Yes,” the Duke hissed through gritted teeth. He strode forward brusquely and swung open the carriage door forcefully. Then, he turned to offer Caroline his hand. “The night is over.”
Caroline could read his expression quite clearly. The Duke was perturbed. She knew not what had been said to bring on this dramatic turn of his countenance, but she regretted the change.
As she stepped onto the coach and settled into the plush seat, Caroline thought about the conversation they had just shared. She turned it over in her mind thoroughly but could draw no proper conclusions.
What happened back there?
The Duke bounded into the carriage next and pulled the door closed quickly. “Drive on!” he roared as he rapped his knuckles against the roof of the compartment.
“Your Grace,” Caroline said slowly in a soft voice she reserved for the times when she needed to tread carefully around her brother or aunt, “if you should wish to continue our discussion, I assure you that I will…”
“There is no need to proceed,” he interrupted.
The Duke tipped his head back against the cushion, and his eyelids fluttered closed. Caroline stared at his long, spider-like eyelashes and waited for him to say something.
At length, he whispered, “Forgive me, Lady Caroline. I have reached my limit for the evening and am exhausted.”
“Very well.” She adjusted her posture and sat straighter. “I suppose I shall just amuse myself by counting my winnings all the way home.”
The Duke opened one eye and looked at her. “If you can do so silently, that would be a blessing.”
Caroline made a show of buttoning her lip. The left corner of the Duke’s mouth twitched in amusement, and then he closed his eye once more.
She emptied the contents of the coin purse into her lap and fingered each piece of pewter carefully. Caroline meant to relish this triumphant feeling and glory in having won each of these riches, but she could not focus on her victories. Sitting here silently with the Duke, she could not even recall how many games they had played or which rounds she had taken.
Why is he doing this? If he is so tired, why does he strain himself to help me?
Those questions rolled around in Caroline’s brain for a long while, but she could not manage to conjure the answers on her own. She wished to ask the Duke, but held her tongue.
He wants nothing from me but silence and that…I can grant him.
Chapter Fourteen
The fight lasted eleven minutes.
A whole day after his little gambling adventure with Lady Caroline, Anthony remained distracted but knew the length of time because he had learned to count the rounds by the quality of the noise, how it climbed and broke and reformed into something rawer when a man was tiring.
When the final blow landed and the crowd erupted around him, he stood in the center of the ring with his knuckles split and his breathing heavy. He felt as he had the night before, when they left the gaming hell, absolutely nothing useful.
He rolled his shoulders. The sawdust was red in one corner: not his blood. He did not look at the man going down.
“Keating.” Carver, the ring manager, was already moving toward him from the rope’s edge, his expression somewhere between impressed and unsettled, which was the expression most peoplewore around Anthony after they had watched him fight. “That’s three in a row for you. Men are starting to talk.”
“Let them,” Anthony said, and ducked under the rope.