Chapter 6

Why the hell did she have to be so… sweet?

Levi had been sure that revealing his scarred face would have sent her running back to London and her lecherous fiancé, but instead, she had been kind. Understanding. She had even offered her condolences for the loss of his brother.

Then she had taken herself off to the library as though nothing had changed. It was perplexing, that was for certain.

Everyone else had a rather intense reaction from their first look at his face. Some hid their grimaces, others couldn't help but allow them to show.

But she had just continued to look at him as she always had.

Levi hardly knew what to do with himself around her now. For so long he had hidden away in his estate to avoid the pity and fright of others.

Lady Siena certainly hadn't been scared. He could tell that his experience had upset her, but it wasn't pity that he had seen on her face. It was understanding.

It was the way he had wanted people to react, but the first time anyone had ever accepted him for who he was and not who he had been or for what had happened to him.

He had been so rude to her that his attitude was likely what would have her running away once the rain cleared.

Unbelievable.

Unable to sit still in his study any longer, he began a slow walk down the corridor. As much as he told himself to go elsewhere, his feet had other ideas as they walked him toward the library, where Lady Siena awaited. His boots tread slowly over the carpeted floor before pausing in the doorway of the library, which had always been his favorite place in the entirety of the estate, the jewel in the otherwise dull stone of the building.

She was standing in the center of the room, her feet planted firmly on the plush carpet"s circular design. With her head thrown back and her arms gracefully extended, she twirled slowly in circles, taking in the countless books that surrounded her. Levi had no claim in the design of this magnificent library, but he was determined to keep it just as it was. Reading was his only other source of joy besides riding - a way to escape from his reality for a brief moment.

He had barely scratched the surface of the vast collection before him, but he wanted to savor every section so that he would never run out of options. As he gazed at the woman now walking before the shelves, delicately running her fingers over the spines, Levi couldn"t help but watch in admiration. Even though he should have entered the room and announced himself, he found he was enraptured by her presence. She radiated a peaceful energy that filled the space around her.

She stopped when she reached the writing desk, taking a seat behind it and lifting the quill pen. She ran her fingers over the feathered edges before dipping it in the inkwell and touching it to the paper. She tucked her head and began to write, her hand moving in broad strokes.

Levi wondered what she was writing, and whether the writing was for herself or others.

He couldn't have said how long he watched her – minutes, certainly, but he had nowhere else to be – before she stopped, sat up, folded the letter together, and then dipped the seal in wax and stamped it.

She stood, and before she could turn to the door and catch him watching her, Levi slipped backward into the drawing room, stopping in an alcove as she marched by him to the dining room.

"Thornbury!" he heard her call out cheerfully. "I have a letter. When the rain clears, could you please have it posted for me?"

"Of course, Lady Siena," he said, and when Levi heard her shoes pad softly down the hallway, he stepped out and followed the butler.

"Thornbury," he called out when he was sure Lady Siena was out of earshot.

"Yes, Your Grace?" Thornbury said, turning around with a larger smile on his face than he had ever seen before.

"May I have that letter?"

"Which letter?" the butler asked.

"The one that the lady just gave you."

Thornbury appeared confused but held it aloft.

"She has asked me to post it."

"I shall do it."

"You shall… post it?"

"Yes," he said. "I will take care of it."

Thornbury was clearly unsure of that idea, but it wasn't for him to decide.

"Of course, Your Grace," he said, passing the letter over, which Levi tucked into his jacket pocket before entering his study – alone.

He could feel the butler's eyes on him as he continued within and shut the door behind him but paid him no mind as he took a seat behind the desk and broke the seal of the envelope.

He didn't want to break her confidence, but he also couldn't risk that she would tell anyone about where to find him or what he looked like.

When he opened the letter and began reading, he couldn't help his sigh of frustration.

For that was exactly what she had done.

Dear Eliza,

I must thank you again for the risk you took in helping me to escape. It must have been greatly difficult for you to return and explain my absence. I hope you did not find yourself in any trouble on my account.

I promised to write when I was settled, and I am – somewhat. However, I did not make it to your friend's residence.

Unfortunately, I do not possess the sense of direction that you do, and I found myself lost along the way.

Fortunately, I was welcomed to an estate near London. You will be shocked to learn of my whereabouts. I am at the home of none other than The Duke of Dunmore. Do not be concerned, for he is not nearly as frightening as all would have us believe, despite the injuries he has obviously sustained. You know how rumors are.

I am told that the estate is not far from Chiswick. Perhaps one day you can arrange to come and visit me, or we can meet there to catch up with one another.

He lives alone, but his servants are most kind and gracious. I am going to take my time to determine my next steps as I do not wish to be a burden upon your friend, and this household has proven they are adept at keeping secrets.

Sending you all of my love,

Siena

Levi took one last look at the letter, crumpled it into a ball, and then threw it in the fireplace.

Siena wonderedwhen a woman had last lived in this estate.

There were books, yes, but besides that, there wasn't overly much for her to pass the time doing. No needlework, no watercolours, no one to take tea with.

So, she read and she wrote poetry, for which she was rather inspired by the landscapes outside of the windows, as dreary as they were.

But she became bored of even that over the day, and eventually, she decided to go exploring.

She wondered if she would see the duke. Ever since their confrontation in the study that morning, he had made himself scarce. She guessed that he was still hiding in the room, where he was least likely to come upon her.

As she entered the drawing room, however, she saw that the door to the adjoining study was open, and she peeked inside, finding it empty. She knew she should leave and not invade his private space, but she couldn't help wondering what he kept himself busy with inside.

Siena stepped cautiously into the study. Tall bookshelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with leather-bound volumes, their spines worn with age. The scent of old parchment and ink hung in the air, reminding her of the magnificent library she had discovered this morning, where she intended to return once she completed her perusal of this estate.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the imposing oak desk that dominated the center of the room. It was meticulously organized, each item in its designated place. Quills stood perfectly upright in an inkwell, while stacks of paper lay neatly arranged on one corner of the desk. A golden pocket watch rested beside an ornate letter opener, its intricate design catching Siena"s eye.

Curiosity got the better of her as she approached the shelves, her fingers trailing lovingly over the spines of countless books. Each volume seemed to hold a secret waitingto be unraveled. Siena"s heart quickened with anticipation as she carefully pulled out a weathered leather-bound book.

The cover opened with a low crack, the pages inside revealing delicate illustrations of exotic plants, their vivid colors dancing across the pages, transporting her to far-off lands she could only dream of.

Lost in the magic of the study, Siena hardly noticed the rain drumming relentlessly against the windowpane. The dim light from outside cast long shadows across the room, giving it an air of mystery and intrigue.

As her eyes continued to wander, Siena"s attention was drawn to a beautiful landscape hanging on the wall behind the desk, contrary to any study she had seen before, which always held a portrait in a place of prominence. It made her realize how devoid the house was of any personality.

She began to shiver, but it wasn't from the empty estate. It was the cold. There was a chill in the room that had settled into her bones as she looked through the book, and she realized then what was missing – there was no fire in the grate. Instead, the fireplace remained empty, waiting to be filled. Did he ever light a fire in here? She wondered as she wandered over for closer inspection, finding that the few ashes were long cold.

Her eyes caught on paper that was lying on the bottom of the grate. It was the same stationary she had written upon just this morning, she realized as she reached out a hand and plucked it out. In fact, that was her handwriting upon the page.

Her brow furrowed as her eyes ran over the letter she had written to Eliza, fury growing inside of her. How did the duke think he had any right to not only read her letter but set it aside to be destroyed? Before she could decide just what she was going to do about it, the door creaked behind her, and she whirled around to find the duke's imposing figure filling the frame.

"What do you think you are doing?" he ground out, and she jumped, startled.

"I was simply wandering the estate," she said, telling herself to stand her ground, that she was not in the wrong here. "As I did so, you must understand how surprised I was to find a letter that I wrote to my friend in your fireplace, prepared to be burned!"

He started, and she realized then that perhaps her choice of words had disconcerted him.

"You do not seem to understand the meaning of secrets," he said, passing beside her, his body just brushing against hers as he took a seat behind the desk, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared her down. She appreciated that he was no longer hiding his face from her, as annoyed as she was with his actions. No one should feel ashamed for having been injured. It was his words and actions that upset her.

"Eliza is my closest friend in the entire world, and she would never tell another where I am or who I am with," Siena said, willing herself to be patient. "She was the one who helped me escape."

"A fine job she did of it," he muttered, and Siena, most annoyed that he would insult Eliza, walked over to the desk, flattening her palms down upon it.

"You could have asked me to rewrite it," she said. "What if I had never found it? I would not have known that Eliza did not know where I was or who I was with."

"All the better."

"You… you…" She tried to find the words. "You are not very nice."

He scoffed. "I've been called worse."

"I will be writing her again," Siena said resolutely, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Do show me what you've written next time."

"It is personal correspondence."

"Not when it is being written from my home."

She took deep breaths, rubbing her temples as she began to pace back and forth in front of him.

"How long until the roads are passable again?"

He looked out the window and shrugged. "First the rain would have to let up. After that, I would say we have a few days, depending on how much sun we get. In a hurry?"

"I thought you wanted me gone."

"I do."

"Then I will leave as soon as I am able. You clearly do not want me here and I am not particularly enjoying myself with you. I do not like to be an unwelcome house guest and you have not allowed me to do any work for you to repay you."

He sat forward, looking up at her. "Fine."

"Fine, what?"

"Fine, I have work that you can do."

He said nothing else, and she waited, until finally, she asked, "Are you going to share anything else about it?"

"You can inventory the paintings."

"Inventory?"

"Go through this house and make a list of the paintings," he said, waving his hand around. "No one has lived here for years, and I have no idea if any of them have value or if they are the work of some ancestor who fancied themselves an artist."

"How will I know the difference?"

"Write down a description. A name if you can see one. Then I can send the list to an art connoisseur."

Siena actually liked the idea. It would not only give her purpose but also a reason to inspect all of the paintings that decorated the house in closer detail.

"I would be happy to do so."

"You seem to know where to find writing paper," he said wryly, and she nodded.

"That I do."

She stood and began walking to the door but stopped, turning around. "Will I see you at dinner?"

"No."

"Why not?"

He stared straight ahead, which kept the left side of his face away from her. It was a head tilt that he did often, and she wondered if he was hiding that half of himself on purpose or if he was doing so without noticing.

"I prefer to dine alone."

"Is my company really so bad?"

"No," he said. "Mine is."

"It does not have to be that way."

"Trust me. It does."

He bent his head and opened a book in front of him, effectively dismissing her.

So finally, without another word, Siena did as he wished.

She left.