Chapter 12

Rebecca was glad when the conversation no longer revolved around her. Lady Hannah seemed quite skilful at changing the direction of what everyone was talking about, but it was done so subtly that no one seemed to notice. Rebecca had because she had been desperate to escape the questions about her life. It was one thing to be interested but another to be interrogated as though she had done something wrong.

The duke had fallen silent again, his gaze on the people before him. Rebecca had met his eyes once and had felt a jolt of lightning pass through her as though he were Zeus himself wielding his bolts. She had looked away quickly, not realizing she had been holding her breath until she felt quite light-headed.

“I look forward to the warmer weather again,” said Lady Hannah, drawing her attention from her fidgeting hands. “Winter is only just beginning, but I feel the world has been in a state of bareness for months.”

“I rather like winter,” said Mr Cruikshanks. “It tells us the festive season with all its wonderful traditions has started. I do not know about you but drinking a glass of mulled wine in front of a toasty fire, with the snow falling softly outside, sounds wonderful. Add good company, and one couldn’t ask for more.”

Lady Hannah smiled. “Well, if you put it that way, I suppose winter has a brighter side to it.”

Rebecca enjoyed watching the pair interact. It was evident that they mutually liked each other.

“I still find winter bothersome,” Lady Ruth commented. “I long for spring days where everything is fresh and beautiful. Do you not have a favourite month, Your Grace?”

The duke slowly turned to Lady Ruth, shrugging with one shoulder and looking handsome while doing it. “I’m afraid I do not have a favourite,” he said. “Every month has its reason for existence.”

That response was very much like the duke. Everything had its reason and place, and he didn’t believe in consequences.

“You are correct, Your Grace,” said Lady Ruth. “Will you attend the London Season next year?” she asked, changing the subject. “My parents have decided to leave in spring, which suits me well because I cannot wait to walk through London’s parks again. I especially enjoyed walking with you in Hyde Park and hope to do so again.”

Rebecca pursed her lips. Lady Ruth and the duke had probably gone on many outings together, allowing them to get to know each other. The woman was perfect for him in every way, leaving a bitter taste in Rebecca’s mouth. The duke would never look twice in Rebecca’s direction, not when Lady Ruth was around and ... Rebecca’s mind paused at the terrible thoughts running in her head. Frankly, they terrified her.

“Would you please excuse me?” she said, nearly jumping to her feet. She couldn’t stay in their company any longer. “I still have much work to do.”

“Allow me to walk you out, Miss Barnes,” the vicar said quickly. “I’d like to have a word with you.”

She had nothing to say to him! However, she couldn’t refuse him. He was the parish vicar and well-respected by the Andrews family. The man wouldn’t behave with so much freedom in their home if they didn’t think highly of him. But the matter struck Rebecca as odd because the duke was perceptive.

He should have realized the true state of Mr Bartlett’s heart long ago. Lady Oakham wasn’t just a grieving widow but a beautiful, wealthy, and vulnerable widow. A man with influence could take advantage of that.

“Miss Barnes?” Mr Bartlett said, looking at her with a slight frown. “Is something wrong?”

Rebecca immediately blushed, realizing she hadn’t replied yet. “We can talk outside,” she replied, swiftly leaving the room to stand in the hallway.

Mortification likely stained her cheeks and ears. She touched them, grimacing at their warmth. Mr Bartlett followed slowly after her, perhaps because men in his position never had to rush.

“I meant it when I said I wished to walk you out,” he said, smiling at her. “But you took off without me.”

Rebecca inwardly grimaced. In her haste, she had forgotten that bit of his request. She could imagine Lady Ruth chuckling about her behaviour or perhaps the duke being slightly annoyed. He was rather strict about maintaining social etiquette.

“Forgive me, Mr Bartlett,” she apologized. “My mind was already elsewhere. I’m afraid I am busy and must return to work.”

“I admire your dedication,” he told her, his eyes lazily perusing her body. “You will be blessed for helping Lady Oakham. I have been praying for her since her husband’s death, and it seems you are the answer to that prayer.”

Rebecca raised her eyebrows just a fraction. She was the answer to his prayer for Lady Oakham, but the prickling sensation on her skin warned her he meant far more than that. The way he was looking at her was a telltale sign. She squirmed, wishing she could just walk away.

“I’m glad Lady Oakham is surrounded by ... supportive people,” she said, nearly laughing at her own words.

Supportive was not the word she would use for Mr Bartlett and Lady Ruth. Rebecca shuddered to think what the countess’ other acquaintances were like. She was surprised when the vicar touched her arm, making her skin crawl.

She was torn between tearing her arm away and waiting to see what he would do. It wasn’t unheard of for a man of the cloth to innocently touch someone as a means of comfort or affection, but the vicar’s fingers lightly trailing on her forearm didn’t feel innocent. Rebecca did pull away then, taking a step back.

“I should go, Mr Bartlett,” she said. “His lordship usually awakens around this time for a brief moment.”

Tommy wasn’t sleeping right through the night yet, but that was normal for babies. However, a whole night of sleep was possible, so she was working him up to it. Rebecca didn’t disclose that Alice could easily take care of him in her stead, not when she wanted to get far away from the man.

“I would truly love to see you at church on Sunday,” he said, his voice lower than moments before.

He stepped closer and tried to put his hand on her again, but Rebecca evaded his touch. If she wasn’t confident before, she certainly was now. Mr Bartlett was a lecherous man posing as a holy man. Anger bubbled up within her at his behaviour. Vicar or not, she would not allow him to assume he could take advantage of her.

“You—” she began, her words failing when the duke appeared. “Your Grace,” she managed, wondering what he thought about her and the vicar standing so close together.

The vicar’s eyes bulged before he jumped away from her and turned to the duke. “Your Grace,” he said, now looking every bit the respectable man. I was just talking to Miss Barnes about coming to church this Sunday. It seems she’s busy, but perhaps you can convince her otherwise.”

The duke’s pale blue eyes narrowed and darkened. “I see,” he said, his voice calm. “If you would excuse us, Mr Bartlett, I have something to discuss with Miss Barnes.”

“Then let me not keep you waiting,” the vicar replied, bowing briefly. He returned to the drawing room, allowing her first breath of relief. The duke probably didn’t realize he had saved her from the need to refuse the vicar’s advances. She rubbed the area the vicar had touched, still slightly disturbed by their brief interaction.

“You need to be careful, Miss Barnes,” the duke said, drawing her eyes to him. “Not everyone is as they seem.”

She frowned at first, not understanding him. The duke looked at the drawing room door, his brow heavily creased before he turned back to her. Realization dawned on her. He had come to her rescue! The duke was evidently aware of the vicar’s ways and wanted to ensure the man didn’t overstep with her.

Warmth bloomed in her lower belly. She shouldn’t get ahead of herself because the duke was probably like this with all women, but she couldn’t help feeling giddy about it. She inwardly shook her head. That seemed to be a recurring theme for her—she couldn’t help it.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said, admiring his striking pale blue eyes. They looked more silver at the moment, though. “May I be excused?”

Before she made a fool of herself around him.

He nodded. “You may go.”

She offered him a grateful smile, noting a flicker of an unreadable emotion cross his eyes. Rebecca turned away, heading towards the stairs. She couldn’t resist looking back once when she reached the stairs. Alarm ran through her when she found him looking, his eyes sporting that unreadable look she had seen moments before.

Her belly fluttered as warmth crept into her face. He had watched her walking away. That knowledge filled her with many questions, mainly his reason for watching her. He had also taken the time to leave his companions, rescuing her from the vicar. He likely wouldn’t admit to it, but she was convinced.

Rebecca smiled and bowed her head, earning her a surprised expression. Her smile widened as she continued her way upstairs, feeling both silly and happy. She didn’t look behind her again, but she had a feeling he was no longer in the same spot. She had caught him watching her—that had to mean something.

“Oh, Rebecca,” she cried, leaning against a wall near the nursery. “What are you doing?”