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at her.

She had never before met a man so…casual. His very posture emitted decadence. But then again, her meetings with men had mostly been at formal parties or the opera or museums. Safe ground.

She never felt safe around the duke.

Except yesterday, on the shore. For some strange reason, she had had no doubt that he would have attempted to protect them all— and succeeded.

She was granted a few extra minutes to compose herself when a maid— Beatrice, Meriel thought— brought in a tray with coffee and biscuits. The girl was pretty and blond. Meriel remembered Nurse Weston's comment that the duke hired servants based on attractiveness.

Although Meriel felt certain that Beatrice had passed by just minutes before and seen her in the study, the tray contained only one cup.

The duke didn't notice its absence until after the maid had left, and he was raising his cup to his lips.

He arched a brow. "You did not receive coffee, Miss Shelby?"

She shook her head. "It is of no importance, Your Grace. I came to discuss your son."

She could have sworn his shoulders tensed imperceptibly. Was he worried about something?

She had to stop reading hidden meanings into everything he did.

"Your Grace, I know Lord Ramsgate's mother died at his birth, but little else. What am I permitted to say to him about her?"

"Anything you'd like, Miss Shelby. We were very young when we married, both but nineteen. It was rather freeing to make those kinds of choices for myself."

She frowned. "If you don't mind my asking, then yours was not an arranged marriage, but one of love? Stephen would want to know this, of course," she hastily added.

The duke smiled in such a wicked way that she felt her face heat with a blush.

"I certainly felt myself in love," he said.

But later concluded he wasn't? she wondered.

"Marguerite was a gentle soul who relished the opportunity to have a child," he continued. "I am saddened that Stephen will never know a mother's devotion."

Now he sounded like a man who would never marry again. Blast her curiosity, which could never be appeased.

"Thank you for giving me permission to discuss his mother with him," she said. "He is growing older, and is ready for what life can teach him. He is six years old now, Your Grace. It is time for him to begin to learn his manners around his elders. As a future duke, much will be expected of him."

He cocked his head, an amused smile quirking his lips, and she remembered she was speaking to a man raised to be a duke. She flushed and continued to speak.

"Lord Ramsgate eats his meals with me in the nursery, and it is difficult to hold his attention to his manners. I request that he be allowed to begin eating dinner with you in the evening." He opened his mouth, but she rudely hurried on. "Of course, if you're expecting guests, he would remain in the nursery."

"This is not a problem, Miss Shelby. You might have asked me anytime, without making a special appointment."

"But I couldn't risk Lord Ramsgate overhearing, just in case you turned down my request."

He sipped his coffee. "I see."

She hadn't anticipated his easy acquiescence and felt a bit lost in her rehearsed speech.

"Miss Shelby, of course you understand that you will be joining us."

She tensed. "That's not necessary, Your Grace. I'm certain you and your son will do fine without me."

"But who will guide him in his manners? You certainly can't count on me. I eat as I wish, and no one has ever corrected me, because I'm the duke."

"And you're saying you don't wish that to happen to your son?" She spoke hesitantly, not wanting to offend him.

He cocked his head. "Correct. There are times when one wishes to…blend in more."

She didn't know what to say to that except "I understand, Your Grace. Of course I will accompany Lord Ramsgate to dinner."

The duke petted his dogs and drank his coffee, but he still managed to watch her far more than she felt was appropriate. And every look made her self-conscious and flushed. But