Chapter 7

Levi stayed true to his word and avoided Lady Siena for the next day, taking his meals in his bedroom so that he wouldn't have to see her.

The truth was, he rather liked conversing with her. Thornbury was right. She was beautiful, but more than that, she seemed to respect and enjoy the company of everyone she encountered. She spoke to the staff as though they were members of the ton and didn't seem to treat him any differently despite having seen the fullness of his face and cheek.

He caught glimpses of her diligently working on her list, and he appreciated her efforts. He had no idea if he would actually be able to afford to pay her or not, but he would make certain that she could get to wherever it was she wished to go.

As for him, he would be staying right here. He had travelled enough of the continent, although not for reasons he preferred to consider at the moment. He was leaving those memories behind him, shutting them out of his mind along with the life that had been before.

Feeling cooped up in the house, he decided that he would attempt a ride. Lucky didn't mind a light rain, and it seemed that it had diminished enough that they could at least stay to the manicured paths, although they were rather few and far between.

He donned his riding garments, hat, and cloak, and raced through the rain toward the stables, surprising the stablehand when he entered through the door.

The scent of fresh hay mingled with the earthy musk of horses, creating what was, to Levi, an intoxicating aroma.

A row of gleaming saddles lined one wall, each one meticulously cared for and lovingly oiled. Bridles hung from hooks, their supple leather glinting in the soft light, and a thick layer of straw covered the floor.

In one corner stood his massive black stallion, his mane flowing like liquid midnight and his eyes burning with an untamed fire. His muscles rippled beneath his sleek black coat as he pawed at the ground, knowing that Levi's arrival meant it was finally time to leave the stable.

"Your Grace," the stablehand said as Lucky gave a whinny of welcome. "I tried to tell Lucky there had been too much rain, but he doesn't seem to care."

"Nor do I," Levi returned, walking over and patting the horse's sleek neck, taking solace in him when he butted his head up against his shoulder. "We won't be long. I think we both need to run. The rain is not as heavy as it was."

"Very well."

It seemed to take far too long until Levi was out in the field, giving Lucky free rein. The horse took his offering and stretched his legs out, sleekly galloping over the wide expanse of land.

It gave Levi the chance to consider his houseguest, and just what he was going to do with her.

He couldn't very well turn her out, but she had said that she had a place to go. He had promised that one of the servants would see her there, but he wasn't sure if he trusted any of them enough to accompany her.

He couldn't very well do it himself. If they were discovered, he'd have to marry the girl, and then he would never be alone again.

And solitude was what he wanted.

Or was it?

Siena was headingup to the long gallery to begin on the most voluminous collection of paintings in the house when a flash outside the window caught her eye. She walked over to the small keyhole window, stood on her toes, and looked out over the soaked green fields before her.

She wondered if the duke had ever ventured into the hills in the distance.

She would ask him when he returned.

If he returned. Or even wanted to speak to her.

She was well aware that he had been avoiding her. The thought made her shrink a little inside. Was she truly that terrible to be around?

She had always been the girl whose company everyone enjoyed. The amiable one. The dutiful daughter. The lady who could make pleasant conversation without drawing much attention to herself.

None of that seemed to matter to the duke.

The duke who everyone talked about.

He was hiding something – that much was obvious.

The scandal sheets were rife with speculation as to what had happened to his parents, his brother, his family's entailed estate.

Siena didn't read the scandal sheets, but her mother did, and she was forever commenting on the latest gossip.

In this case, she said there were tales of everything from the duke murdering his brother in cold blood and then setting their estate on fire to hide the evidence, to the duke going mad in battle and then returning home and hiding from society due to the shame of what he had done.

The only parts of it that Siena knew were true were that the duke had no other remaining immediate family and he had fought Napoleon until his brother died when he was home visiting. She wasn't sure that anyone truly knew the rest of the story.

Siena was not a woman who based so much of her decisions on fact and rational thinking. She just knew, deep within her, that the duke was not a man who would ever hurt someone close to him.

Even if he had killed one of the highwaymen without any inkling of remorse – at least that she could see. She supposed that was a result of his time in battle.

The motion outside returned, and she was startled to see a streak of black across the expanse of land before her. There might not be much in the way of cultivated gardens on this estate, but the natural landscape was breathtaking.

As was the speed of the horse. Lucky. He suited the duke, the two moving together in grace and fluidity. Perhaps Lucky wasn't so inaptly named. If it hadn't been for him, she would never have been discovered by the duke. She shuddered to think what would have become of her.

The Duke of Dunmore was a mysterious man, that was for certain.

Whether she would ever solve him was another story.

Levi could admitthat his spirits were much improved when he returned to the house after his ride. Lucky had also been appreciative, snorting with a shake of his head as they returned to the stables, as though thanking Levi for ignoring the rain.

Levi entered the house with some trepidation, on the lookout for Lady Siena. He didn't know what he had been expecting of her, but he had thought she would be far more… passive, perhaps remaining in her room as she waited for the skies to clear and the roads to dry.

He didn't like how she, instead, wandered the estate as though she was a house guest at a country party.

He asked his valet, McGregor, to draw him a bath, sitting and resting his sore leg while the footmen prepared it.

It wasn't until everyone had departed except for his valet that he started removing his rain-soaked clothing.

"This might hurt," McGregor said as Levi lifted his arm and McGregor began to slowly peel the wet fabric off of it. Levi flinched as it tugged at the scar on his shoulder but didn't voice any of his pain. It was nothing compared to what the pain had been a few months ago.

He was healing slowly – on the outside at least, although he would never be the same again.

McGregor finished helping him undress and held an arm out to assist Levi into the bathtub.

He hated relying on someone else, but his leg was stiff from the cold rain, and he had no desire to injure himself any further.

He sighed as he sank into the bathtub, the warm water welcoming as it washed around him, soothing his sore muscles.

"Ye push yerself awful hard, Your Grace," his Scottish valet said. They had served together in the war, and he was one of the few people that Levi trusted. McGregor had no family to speak of before joining the war effort and when it was time to leave, Levi had offered him a position at his estate.

When Levi had been injured, McGregor had remained, despite his responsibilities becoming so vastly altered from what he had agreed to. McGregor treated him differently than he had before – with more reservation, perhaps concern at how Levi might react to him – but he had remained loyal.

"I know, McGregor," he said. "But it feels better than not."

The valet nodded his head and passed Levi a book before departing, shutting the door behind him. Levi relaxed into the bathtub, holding the book in front of him to read while he soaked. He couldn't simply sit and bathe without it, for then his mind could wander, which was a most terrifying prospect.

He was making his way through Shakespeare's works and was currently on King Lear. It was tragic, yes, but he far preferred focusing on fictional tragedies than his own.

Levi stayed within until the water grew cold. McGregor was not far, in the small room adjoining his own, but now that Levi's muscles had warmed, he would be fine to step out of the bathtub himself. He stood, the water sloshing over his torso, and reached for the towel next to him.

He had just lifted it to dry his face when he heard the turn of the doorknob, and he lowered it, prepared to tell McGregor that he didn't need his help.

Only, it wasn't McGregor who stood in the doorway.

It was Lady Siena, eyes wide, mouth open in shock.

Siena had been exploringthe second story in this east wing of the house. Most of the rooms were empty of nothing but old furniture that still bore dust and cobwebs, the rooms clearly unused.

She now understood why her room was described as "the pink room," for every bedroom was decorated in an entirely different colour, like a house composed of pieces of the rainbow.

She should likely return to the long gallery and finish her inventory of the art pieces there, but it was far more interesting to walk from room to room. Each bedroom held one or two pieces, and these seemed more intimate, as though they were created for various members of a family.

Who had lived here and what would they think of the estate's current resident?

Siena was lost in thought when she opened the last door of the second-story hallway, which was in the same wing as her bedroom but at the opposite end of the corridor.

She should have taken her time, to determine whether anyone was within.

But when she opened the door and saw the duke, she hadn't been able to look away.

She should have apologized.

She should have shut the door.

She should have run down the hall and away from the room.

Instead, she stayed still, her eyes drawn to his body.

He stood in the bathtub, water dripping off defined muscles.

Siena"s heart raced as she watched the duke dry his face, completely unaware of her presence. The grey light streaming through the room"s large windows illuminated every detail of his tall, lean form.

His strong shoulders glistened with droplets of water, causing her breath to catch in her throat as she drank in the sight before her, mesmerized by the sheer raw masculinity exuding from this man.

A surge of desire unlike anything she had ever experienced before washed over her, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement.

She couldn"t help but take in the scar that didn't stop at his face. Instead, it ran down his entire left side, from his neck, over his shoulder, down his left torso and left leg. It was red, raw, and puckered, and she winced at how much pain he likely felt from it. Was it the scar of a past battle? If she had to guess, it appeared to be a burn, one he would likely never fully recover from.

His towel covered the bottom of his face and draped over the middle of his body. Siena felt rather wanton for wishing that she could see more of him, as her eyes couldn't stop returning to where his manhood was hiding.

The duke finished drying his face, lowering the towel and lifting his chin.

When he caught sight of her, he froze, his one good eye locked upon her. For once, he wasn't wearing the patch over his left eye, which was sealed shut, the skin around it cracked and red.

She gasped at how painful it must be, and that was when his face twisted until he was wearing the same nasty scowl he had when he had first shown his entire face to her.

"What are you doing?" he growled at her as he wrapped the towel around his body, hiding himself.

"I-I was exploring the bedrooms, l-looking for art," she said, stammering at the anger that emanated from him.

"In my bedroom?" he said, the volume of his voice rising.

"I didn't know this was your bedroom," she said, her arms flailing wildly as she tried to explain. "If I had any idea, I would never have entered."

"Wouldn't want to see this monstrosity, would you?" he sneered, and she stepped back as though he had slapped her, such was his ire.

"It's not that," she said. "I j-just wouldn't want?—"

"Get out," he said, his voice calm, low, even, and she took a step back, nodding, although her feet wouldn't seem to move of their own accord.

"I said get out!" he shouted now, and she jumped, tears welling in her eyes as she quickly backed out of the room, slamming the door behind her as she ran down the corridor as though she was being chased.

She made it all the way to her own bedroom, where she threw her writing materials down on the bed before collapsing in the middle of it and allowing the sobs to emerge.