With the ledger in hand, August strode out of his study, intending to confront his wife and end this nonsense!
Twenty-Six
“Your Grace, I saw Her Grace entering the library moments ago.”
August did not wait for Denton to finish. He was already moving down the hallway, his footsteps quick and purposeful. Three days. Three days of avoidance and excuses and closed doors. It ended now.
He reached the library and paused just outside the doorway, taking a moment to compose himself. He was a duke for heaven’s sake. He could manage a simple conversation with his own wife without losing his head.
He stepped inside and stopped.
Eliza sat in the window seat, a book open in her lap, afternoon sunlight streaming through the glass behind her. She wore full mourning black, as they all did still, but somehow, it did not make her look severe. The dress had softened her somehow, orperhaps she had softened on her own. Her hair was arranged in a loose knot at her nape, tendrils escaping to frame her face in a way that made his fingers itch to tuck them back.
She bit her lower lip as she read, completely absorbed in whatever story held her attention. The gesture was unconscious, innocent, and it sent heat straight through his chest.
He wanted to kiss her. Wanted to cross the room and pull her into his arms and finish what they had started in the garden three nights ago. Wanted to erase the memory of her running away and replace it with something better.
He cleared his throat.
Eliza’s head snapped up, her eyes going wide. She leapt to her feet so fast the book tumbled from her lap, hit the edge of the window seat, bounced once, and landed with a spectacular thud on the floor. Pages scattered everywhere.
“August! I did not—that is, I was not expecting—” She stared at the book as though it had betrayed her. “I appear to have committed murder.”
“Only if books can die of shock.” He moved forward and bent to retrieve the volume, gathering the loose pages as he went. “The Mysteries of Udolpho. I did not take you for one who enjoyed Gothic novels.”
“I do not particularly. But it was either that orA Practical Guide to Sheep Husbandry, and I find myself with very little interest in sheep at present.” She reached for the pages he held, but he kept them just out of reach.
“Running low on reading material, are we?”
“One might say that. Or one might say I have been indisposed and unable to visit the lending library.”
“Ah yes. Your indisposition.” He set the book and pages on a nearby table then turned to face her fully. “The one that has lasted precisely three days and seems to vanish whenever I am not in the immediate vicinity.”
Her cheeks went pink. “I do not know what you mean.”
“No? So you have not been avoiding me?”
“I have been resting. On the advice of my physician.”
“You have not seen a physician.”
“Well, I would have if I had needed one. But fortunately, rest was sufficient.”
“Eliza.”
“Yes?”
“You are a terrible liar.”
She lifted her chin. “I take exception to that. I am an excellent liar when properly motivated.”
“Then I suppose I should be flattered that you cannot manage it with me.” He took a step closer, watching the way her breath hitched. “Why have you been avoiding me?”
“I have not been—Very well, I have been avoiding you. But only because I thought it best, given the circumstances.”
“What circumstances would those be?”
She gestured vaguely between them. “These circumstances. The ones where we—where I—where things became complicated.”