The Duke looked over his shoulder as the heavy door thumped closed behind him. “I just asked you the same thing. I am looking for Lord Anderson. I was told he was in here.”
“He is not,” Gemma said sharply. “And I am waiting for my sister. So please leave, Your Grace. And quickly. Before anyone sees us together in here.”
The Duke hesitated for a moment, lips parted. His intense blue eyes seemed to pierce her. “As you wish,” he said finally. He took a few steps, then turned back to face her. “Before I leave,” he began, “I wish to apologize. For… last night. And for what I said to you this morning. I am sorry. Truly.”
Gemma kept her arms folded across her chest. “I see.”
The Duke raised his eyebrows. “That is all you have to say? 'I see?'“
“What exactly were you hoping for?” Gemma demanded.“Poetry?”
He shook his head in exasperation, then turned on his heel and headed for the door. He pushed hard against it. Nothing happened. “It's locked,” he said.
Gemma felt rage flare inside her.I have had far too much of this rake and his foolish games!
But as she stalked toward him in anger, she was all too aware of a heat beginning to simmer inside her. That same inexplicable sensation she had felt when she found herself touching him this morning. And the countless times she had—against every grain of sense in her body—replayed the incident in her mind since.
Doing her best to ignore it, she shoved hard on the door. The Duke was right. It was firmly locked.
She planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Unlock it! This instant!”
He chuckled. “I do not have the key. Do you not think you might have seen me locking it, if this was my doing?”
Gemma gritted her teeth. He was right of course—but she remained certain that he was to blame. Somehow. And for some inexplicable reason. Perhaps he blamed her for last night and wished to embarrass her. Perhaps she was being set up, and Miss Henford would open the door any second, and seek to ruin her.
She rapped hard on the door. “Help! Let me?—”
The Duke clamped a hand over her mouth, silencing her. “Hush! You know what people will think if they find us in here alone together!”
Gemma felt color rush to her cheeks. Whether out of anger, or embarrassment, or something else entirely, she could not be certain. She was suddenly aware of how close she was standing to the Duke, his body almost pressed against hers, and took a hurried step away. She looked up at him, seething.
“I am sure this was just an accident,” he said after a moment. “A misunderstanding…” He trailed off.
Gemma frowned. “What?”
The Duke began to pace back and forth, his shoes clicking rhythmically across the floorboards. A wry smile appeared in the corner of the Duke's mouth.
“What?” Gemma demanded.
The Duke sighed. “It was my grandmother who told me Lord Anderson was in here. I found it strange, but I… I fear she may have been trying to deceive me.”
“Deceive you?” Gemma repeated incredulously. “By locking you in a room with another lady?” She snorted. “Do not be so foolish. I hardly think your grandmother would do such a thing to you. Especially not on the eve of your wedding.”
“I can.”
Gemma raised her eyebrows at the Duke's words. He sank onto the chaise longue on one side of the room, raking a hand through his hair. “My grandmother does not wish me to marry Miss Henford,” he admitted. “She and my mother have always argued over what is best for me. My mother selected Miss Henford as my wife, in spite of my grandmother's, shall we say, rather heartfelt objections.”
“I see.” Gemma's words fell heavily into the silence. She hovered by the edge of the chaise, arms wrapped around herself in a gesture of self-preservation. “And you think she locked you in here with me so Miss Henford might change her mind about marrying you?”
The suggestion felt ludicrous, but the Duke said, “it's possible, yes. She just spent the last five minutes telling me how much of a mistake it would be if I married Miss Henford.”
“That's… terrible?” It came out as a question, and Gemma found herself studying the Duke's face for any hint of how he might feel about the matter. A part of her was surprised that he was being so open with her. Another part was stunned to find he had any kind of depth and emotion within him at all.
“I must admit,” his eyes were lowered, avoiding her gaze, “I may be beginning to see things from my grandmother's point of view.”
Gemma raised her eyebrows.Is he confessing to me that he does not wish to marry Miss Henford?
Her thoughts began to knock together, and all she could manage was, “Oh? Does that have anything to do with…”
