“Wait. You’re a writer?”
Faugh! Had she said that aloud? She never told anyone about her writing. How had she let that slip?
“No.” There was no explanation at hand.
“But you just said you’ll go back to writing.”
“Did I?”
“Rose,” the tone of his voice brooked no argument. It was a ducal tone if there ever was one. “Tell me the truth. Are you a writer?”
Her pause must have told him all he needed to know because he stood up, in all his statuesque luster, and wrapped his arms around her.
“That’s–that’s sogood.”
She could hear the double meaning behind his words. That he was praising her for doing something out of the box. Something he couldn’t bring himself to do. Something that had meaning and import. Something that would change her world, if not the world.
“Your box is too small if you think that this is so laudable.”
Nuzzling his mouth against her neck, he murmured, “My box is too small. But you have made it bigger. Perhaps with you I can step out of mine as well. You make me–”
“Don’t say it.”
“Say what?”
“I don’t know. Whatever you were going to say. Just don’t.”
“But you do make me want to be more of myself. I don’t even know what that means, but I think you’re right about this box and stepping out of it–”
She had to cut him off, else he would say more beautiful flowery words. Then she wouldn’t leave, and that would really put her in danger.
“La! Please do not say such things as to give a false hope that there is a future between us. You’re a duke. I’m a nanny.”
“How do you know that?”
She lowered an eyebrow and threw him a look over her shoulder as she started dressing. “Please. I can tell. I do work for a duchess.”
“That would do it…” Andrew rubbed his jaw.
“I’m saving you trouble, and me…”
“You, what? What are you saving yourself from?”
“Nothing. Nevermind.” She pulled her now dry frock over her head and began looking for her spencer. “I just need to focus on my writing. Please. Let us walk back to the estate. Once we are near, I’ll go in alone. To avoid any gossip. Lord knows there are enough women there to cause an immediate scandal. But if I show up and say I had to spend the night in the hunter’s cabin because of the snowstorm, they’ll understand. Especially if you act as though you’ve just arrived. Hopefully no one saw you yesterday.”
“No one has seen me yet. But–”
Rose put her hand in the air to stop any rebuttals. “Please.”
So that was the plan that the two of them executed. That is, until fate in the form of a duchess, got in the way.
Chapter 8
OFALLTHEPLACESto be, and of all the times to be there, Rose just happened to walk right up to the exact side door where she encountered Margaret and Jonathan. Jonathan was leaning against the frosty stone wall of the house, and despite her distracted state, Rose noticed a deep red flush on Margaret’s cheeks.
The duchess cleared her throat, “Rose, head up, dear. You almost walked straight into that briar bush.” Margaret clapped her hands together, “But what timing! You are lucky, indeed. Though, where on earth have you been? I’ve been worried about you.” Margaret pulled her coat closed in front of her.
“I got caught in the snowstorm. I had to take shelter in the hunter’s cabin.”
