The truth was far more complicated than that, but the sweetness of Elsie’s desire to help, moved him. After all, Kit reasoned, surely it couldn’t hurt?
“No,” he said. “It was most kind of you. Especially given her actions towards you. But,” he added when he saw the brightness glimmer on her upturned face, “I have tried numerous activities, suggestions… She is quite trapped in her own mind.”
Elsie was nodding, her hands twisting as she moved closer, taking the seat on the armrest next to him as she considered his words. There was a small line between her brows and her teeth came out to chew on the rounded curve of her bottom lip. He wondered what it would taste like if he tried the same—strawberries his mind whispered, not the ones shipped down from London that were large and often watery, but fresh from the summer gardens, full of dappled sunlight and sharp tang. She would taste like the promise of summer.
“When is her birthday?” Elsie asked.
“In five weeks,” Kit answered. It would be Flora’s eighteenth,the first she had spent without either of her parents, and Kit had not ordered her a thing. Guilt roiled through him.
“We should throw her a party,” Elsie said, a dimple appearing in her left cheek as she grinned at him, pleased with her idea.
It was a wild, silly idea, Kit immediately thought—Flora never spoke, ran around the manor house and gardens as if she were untamed and loathed all forms of company. Surely doing such a thing would simply be a disaster. He was about to say this when Elsie held up her hand.
“I’m sure it sounds quite mad, but if we—I mean to say your household—were to demonstrate what faith we had in her, if Lady Flora could see the benefits of learning to be in society… perhaps it might prove a motivation.”
Leaning back in his seat, Kit eyed Elsie sceptically. It was a highly risky move, which might involve his sister’s humiliation, but that did not seem to be what was motivating Elsie in the slightest, she earnestly seemed to wish to help. Kit simply had so little faith in it working out that he was certain the doubts played across his face.
“If I was to say yes,” Kit spoke slowly. He did not wish to promise too much or even agree to the party yet. First, he needed some kind of guarantee of his sister’s protection. Despite how eager and bright-eyed Elsie appeared to be at his cautious words. “My family is hardly popular in the area. It would seem highly unlikely that anyone of interest would arrive…”
“We’re hardly intending to marry your sister off,” Elsie said. “If anything, the promise of music, of a new gown, of different people—even if those people are merely the vicar, his wife and say a dozen local citizens…”
“You would wish to arrange such a thing for a family you barely know and a young woman who writes you threatening notes?”
Elsie paused her breath, halting whatever she had been aboutto say, and looked down at him. “I do think it might help. Isolation certainly hasn’t.”
“But?” Kit asked. There was a hesitation in her last few words.
“I will help, but in return I want your word. Once her birthday is done, marked, and hopefully celebrated with a lovely party, we will leave for London. My sister needs us in Town, and whilst the roads and Lady Flora may be a good reason for deferment, after the party, we must leave.”
In an effort to hide his smirk at her demands, Kit raised a hand and covered his mouth. Whilst he might forget he was a newly made duke, it seemed his companion did too. The truth was that Kit rather liked how bitingly direct Elsie could be. There was a cutthroat brusqueness to her character, which was at odds with her dainty elfin persona, that he found admirable. Or certainly different from the other ladies he had interacted with while briefly in Town years ago, at university, or even in this remote neighbourhood. She had authority and made no bones about claiming it when it was needed.
“Do we have a deal?” Elsie’s question cut into his meandering thoughts. She stretched out her hand towards him, and all that strength of will he’d been priding himself on, diminished as he looked down at her small hand, outstretched as if they were embarking on a business arrangement rather than a man and woman huddled close to a fire in a secluded library, when it had gone midnight. The idea of taking her narrow fingers into his hand, holding her, touching her again caused a strange tightness in Kit’s chest, one which was not comfortable but not entirely unpleasant—his very blood and muscles seemed to be tightening at the idea, and there was a dryness in his mouth which prevented him from immediately replying or even coming up with a response to her.
It was silliness, he had held her in his arms this afternoon, they had been entangled together and fallen asleep—surely that was far more intimate than simply shaking her hand. Her thumbwas visible, jutting out from the lace trim of her nightdress, and he gazed down at the shell-like sheen of the nail, he could only focus on how delicately shaped it was. Everything about Elsie struck him as perfectly formed, petite and very her.
Raising his eyes away from her hand, Kit met her gaze before he leant forward and grasped her fingers. Awareness shot through him, burning and bright, stronger now he could look her in the face, than it had been in the cave, where the fear of death had lurked. Now it was just the two of them in this snug library, enclosed together away from everything. The contact of his hand encasing hers, garnered a reaction from her, just a little one around her eyes, which widened at the touch as if she too was aware of what passed between them, then her lips parted ever so slightly letting out a breath. It seemed to his mind that she was conscious of the connection but unwilling to accept it. Or perhaps too innocent to know what it meant.
“We have a deal, but if at any point Flora expresses doubts,” Kit said, whilst also acknowledging to himself, that if Flora were to say anything uncertain, at least this would be a reaction.
“Of course, in that case a new plan would need to be made.” Elsie released his fingers and jumped to her feet, an awkwardness to her movements as she moved around the library.
Kit too got to his feet. for his own sanity, and to get him away from the alluring temptation of continuing to luxuriate in Elsie’s presence, he stretched a small bow. “I will bid goodnight in that case, Miss Keating.”
“Your Grace,” she muttered, but he was already at the door, and Kit continued to walk through it despite the strange pain in his chest at Elsie returning to his formal title.
CHAPTER 11
Over the next few days, hours slipped by without much for her to do. Elsie laid out her plans as carefully as an Admiral would. Or at least that was what she told herself. It was far harder than she’d imagined. Firstly, on the top of her list she needed to avoid the duke. Whilst it was an instruction to herself, it was a little galling to realise that Ashmore—Kit—seemed to have no problem keeping his distance from Elsie. So, she had to rely on Samson and Lancelot for company, or the occasional snatched glance of Lady Flora. When Lady Flora spotted Elsie watching or approaching the girl would run away, wide-eyed and pale—which was almost as disappointing as the duke’s reaction.
The only bright spot was Samson, who it turned out was now coming out of her shell a little. She was a useful gossip, relying on titbits about the manor house to keep Elsie informed as most of the household was allocated out to help clear the roads.
“Clary says…” Samson moved through the chamber, straightening, and attempting to tidy an already neat room. She referred a great deal to Clary, the driver they had journeyed down with. It did not take much insight to see that the maid had developed something of an infatuation with the manservant. “That the road is close to being cleared. Is that not excellent news, miss?”
Elsie nodded and smiled. It would be needed for the manor house to be reachable—Elsie wanted to receive and send letters, to hear the news from London. Besides, if she were to arrange a party, Elsie would need to ensure invitations were arranged too. It might be worthwhile going, when she was able, to make her way to the nearest town for new clothes and various birthday items.
“Indeed,” Elsie replied. “It is nice to hear that the workload will lessen soon for all the men in the household.”
“Aye.” Samson paused and looked most earnestly down at Elsie; her expression was most concerned. “I know Clary has found it most taxing. But I am sure the rest of the servants, and His Grace did too.”
