Misleading a Duke. A.S. Fenichel

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      Chapter 3

      Three weeks later

      Parvus Castle

      Shropshire County, England

      By the time Nick arrived at Parvus Castle the light waned in the west. He’d ridden steadily, stopping only at dark, for more than three days after receiving Geb’s note of an urgent matter. Geb might have finally gotten him the names and locations of the French spies he’d been researching the past year.

      At the front drive, a young boy took Nick’s horse to be cared for. There were rarely many servants at the small castle, which was used mainly as a hunting lodge or to get away from life for a while.

      Knowing there was no butler, Nick didn’t bother to knock. Besides, he was tired and badly in need of a warm fire and a good draught of brandy. He banged open the front door. “Geb!”

      Brushing off the snow from his coat, he tossed the wet outerwear on a bench by the door and stomped the mud from his boots.

      A shuffle of movement came from the salon.

      A white ball of barking fur loped into the foyer and jumped on Nick’s legs.

      “Who are you?” he asked in a softer voice. “Has Geb gone and gotten himself a puppy?” Nick knelt to scratch behind the pup’s ear.

      Nick stood, and the puppy continued his happy yipping and followed along as they drew closer to the salon.

      “Geb?” Nicholas turned into the salon and froze.

      Nick blinked several times as if doing so might erase the vision of Faith sitting in Geb’s hunting lodge. She was as lovely as the first time he’d seen her, though less formally attired in a pale green day dress. Several brown curls had escaped and hung around her heart-shaped face.

      Gathering his wits, he stepped inside, careful not to stomp on the puppy, who continued his elation. Nick searched for Geb in the large salon before turning back to Faith. “Where is Geb?”

      “Mr. Arafa is not here.” Her voice was soft and melodious, while she was wide-eyed and clasping her hands so tightly, her knuckles had turned white.

      Was she afraid of him?

      “What are you doing here, Lady Faith?” Nick loomed over her.

      She craned her neck and looked at him. “Mr. Arafa has loaned me the use of this castle for a fortnight.”

      A level of anger that only Faith could conjure built inside Nick. “Geb sent me a message. He said it was urgent I meet him here immediately.”

      Standing, she forced him to step back. Though it didn’t keep her from having to look up to him. She might be bold, but she was petite. “I’m sorry we were forced to deceive you, Your Grace. It was necessary for you and I to have some time together where you cannot ignore me.”

      “Are you saying you talked Geb Arafa into deceiving me as well?” Nick continued to blink. He was certain at some point his friend would pop out from behind some door, tell him it was all a bad joke, and explain why Faith was at Parvus.

      “It was necessary and he was very kind to comply.” She pursed her lips and pulled her clasped hands to just under her ample breasts.

      His gaze fell to her splendid décolletage before he could help himself.

      Turning away, he stormed to the window. None of this was possible and yet, here she was with no sign of her friends or his. A steady snow had fallen for the past twenty minutes and the ground was coated already. “I can’t even imagine how you have coerced my dear friend to go along with your schemes. It is clear that you have powers of persuasion that I have underestimated.”

      He expected her to appear smug when he turned, but her slumped shoulders and bowed head didn’t look pleased with herself. She looked contrite and ashamed. “I wish there had been another way. I tried to speak to you at Mr. Arafa’s dinner party, but you wouldn’t give me a chance. Besides, I want more than to apologize for spying on you.”

      What he should have done was leave immediately. Curiosity kept him rooted to the floor near the large window. “What do you want now?” It came out harsher than he intended, but he wasn’t sorry. This infernal woman had duped him for the last time. He would go back to London and tell her mother the engagement was off. Let her reputation be damned.

      The puppy sat between them and swiveled his gaze back and forth. His black eyes were curious in his puffy white fur. A few black spots on his floppy triangular ears were his only markings.

      Stepping closer to him, she met his gaze. “It is what I have always wanted, though I have not gone about it in the best way. I want us to get to know each other and then decide if we might suit. This means you must be willing to tell me something about yourself that has happened in the last five years and lower that mask you insist on wearing.”

      The idea that she saw he wore a mask disturbed him. It was some comfort that she couldn’t see through it. Yet that, too, put a knot of unease deep in his belly. This woman would be the death of him. “I have no intention of marrying a woman whom I cannot trust. You have gone out of your way to take that trust and batter it to a pulp. You have shown your character to be sneaky, underhanded, and ruthless. Why would I want to tell you anything?”

      Sorrow welled in her golden eyes before she could mask the emotion.

      Despite his dislike of the woman, and his frustration over his attraction to her, he wished he could take back the words that hurt her. Damn it all.

      She returned to her seat, picked up the book on the table, and schooled her features to reveal nothing more. “I see. Then I suppose you will wait out this storm and be on your way, Your Grace.”

      The dog trotted over and lay down on her feet.

      Looking out at the snow, Nick sighed. He couldn’t leave until the snow stopped. Perhaps by morning, the weather would clear. Surely, he could survive one night with Faith Landon without succumbing to whatever spell she put on men like Geb. He sat in the wingback chair across from her. Noting the book, he asked, “You read Descartes?”

      “I read everything.” Her chest lifted and fell in a deep breath that distracted him from his stance of not liking her.

      It really was unfair that she should be so impossible yet so beautiful.

      “What is the dog’s name?” He snapped his fingers and the ball of fur loped over.

      She lowered the book. “Rumpelstiltskin, but I just call him Rumple.”

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