He blinked, and it occurred to her that the normally unflappable duke appeared startled by her question. Hmm, well this was very interesting, indeed. Not even her near drowning, his subsequent tenuous rescue, and the unchaperoned carriage ride had seemed to rattle him. And yet, this one question, should silence him.
The duke smoothed his palms along the front of his coat sleeves. “It was merely a supposition on my part.”
Katherine angled her head. “Yes, but you didn’t say two or three or four Seasons. You said one.” She smiled. “Never tell me you’ve been doing research on me, Your Grace?”
“Do not be preposterous,” he snapped. “I do not conduct research on people.” He raked a gaze over her person. “Particularly unwed young females.”
He intended the words as an insult, that much was clear in his tone, and yet, his gaze lingered longer than was proper upon her plump breasts.
Katherine had always despaired over the unseemly mounds of flesh; her mother had even forced her to wear bindings, until one night Katherine had fainted from the tightness of the cloth wrapped about her person. Something in the duke’s eyes; a hot, penetrating stare, however, made her feel, for the first time, the tiniest bit of female power. Which was outright laughable. The Duke of Bainbridge had been abundantly clear that he no more desired her than she desired him.
And yet, she reveled in his focus. It made her feel the same heady power that Eve had surely felt after tempting Adam with that sinful piece of fruit in the Garden of Eden.
“Do you require any assistance, my lady?”
Katherine jumped at the unexpected appearance of the shopkeeper. He alternated his gaze between Katherine and the duke; a slight frown of disapproval on his small lips.
She smiled. “No, I am finding everything rather easily. Why, I found the sole, remaining copy of The Excursion.”
The duke’s mouth flattened.
Katherine winked up at him as the shopkeeper returned to the front of the shop.
She made to step around the duke, but then, something gave her pause. It was the slightest something, reflected in the greens of his eyes, now deepened to the shade of emeralds, a glitter of emotion he likely didn’t think himself capable of.
Pain.
The Mad Duke.
Her smile faded as she imagined him as an altogether different man; one who smiled, and teased, and who loved. And who was also so very lonely at the Christmastide season. Katherine glanced down at the book, and then cleared her throat. “Here.” She held the book out to him.
He stood stock still, studying her with an inscrutable expression. Katherine pressed the volume into his hands. “I really wasn’t all that interested in reading it,” she lied. She’d been looking forward to reading Wordsworth’s latest poem for an inordinate deal of time. There would be others.
She detected the white-knuckled grip he had upon the leather spine. “I don’t need—”
“I’m sure you don’t need anything, Your Grace. But sometimes, it is nice to simply have things one wants.” Katherine dipped a curtsy, and continued on down the long row of shelving. All the while, she felt his gaze boring a hole into her back. She stole a sideways peek, and found him rooted to the same spot, studying her as if she were an oddity at the Egyptian Hall.
Katherine yanked her gaze back to the books in front of her. To give herself something to do, she tugged free the nearest book her fingers touched.
“I’d not accept pity from you,” a low voice said close to her ear.
Katherine jumped. The book tumbled to the floor and landed upon the tips of her slipper. A gasp escaped her, as she shifted the injured toes.
The duke cursed. “Are you injured?”
She grimaced, shifting to alleviate the throbbing ache in her toes. “I survived a plunge into the Thames, I imagine I should be handling an injured foot a good deal better.”
He grinned.
Katherine’s heart rhythm increased several quick beats. Goodness, when he smiled, it transformed him into a really, rather remarkable man. When she’d first made her Come Out, she’d visited the Royal Museum and observed the chiseled work of Michelangelo’s David. With his smile, the duke could rival that great statue for a place of beauty.
Perhaps madness was contagious.
He bent down and retrieved the forgotten book. He turned it over in his hands, studying the title, his familiar frown back in place. Only…his lips twitched at the corner.
Katherine glanced at the title, and heat flooded her cheeks. “Er…uh…I…” The Works of Leigh Hunt?! Egads, the poet who’d been sentenced to prison by the Prince Regent for libel. Well, Katherine would certainly have a good deal of explaining to do if polite Society believed she read such scandalous works.