The Duke of Defiance (The Untouchables #5)(45)

“I’ve got you,” he said.

She ought to step away from him, but she could still feel people behind her, forcing her too close. Then she noticed that both girls were staring up at them with avid curiosity.

Jo withdrew her hands from him as if she’d been burned and backed away, bumping into whoever was behind her. She forced a laugh. “Too crowded. Let’s hurry through the exhibit.”

She flicked a glance toward the girls, who seemed to blink in unison before pivoting toward the next display.

Knighton slipped a finger between his cravat and his neck. “Yes, let’s.”

Was he all right? She realized he looked a bit flushed, perhaps from the crowd.

For the rest of the tour through the Jewel Office, she was careful to keep the girls between her and Knighton. He kept fidgeting with his cravat, and beads of sweat had gathered at his temple.

When they were finally outside again, the girls walked ahead, once again poring over the guidebook.

She walked beside Knighton. “Your clothes are bothering you.”

He inhaled. “Yes, but it’s more than that. The jostle of people inside… I find it intolerable.”

“It was quite close.” She looked at him intently. “Were you uncomfortable?”

“Vastly. I hate other people touching me.”

She knew he couldn’t mean everyone. “What do you mean? Evie hugs you, and it doesn’t seem to cause you discomfort.”

His features relaxed, and she realized just how tense he’d been. “No. Evie doesn’t cause me discomfort. But when I come into contact with almost anyone else, I feel as though I want to crawl out of my skin.”

That sounded awful. And he’d said “almost anyone.” Where did she fall in that spectrum? They’d touched more than once inside, including a rather intimate moment, not to mention the kisses they’d shared at the ball.

He seemed to follow the path of her thoughts. He paused, his gaze boring into hers. “I don’t mind you touching me. In fact, I rather like it.”

The heat she’d felt in the exhibit gathered between them and expanded into something palpable. It wasn’t awkwardness or even agitation between them any longer—it was something far more primitive. And she had no idea what to do about it.



“Do tell me how your visit with your mother went last week,” Lady Dunn said as she set her teacup down. “I see her portrait is no longer there.” She inclined her head toward the bare spot on the sitting room wall.

Bran uncrossed his legs. “It went as well as could be expected, I suppose. I’ve set specific limitations regarding our interaction, so I don’t believe she’ll be a nuisance. Must we speak of her?”

Lady Dunn chuckled. “Of course not. But beware, my boy, she’s always a nuisance, even if you don’t see her.”

That was probably true, and he ought to ask what damage his mother could do, but decided he didn’t want to know. So long as he didn’t have to spend time with her, he would be well.

“What did Evie think of her?” Lady Dunn flashed him an apologetic glance. “I’m still talking about her. Never mind.”

“It’s fine. You care about Evie, and I can’t quarrel with that. My mother was pleasant, but she didn’t bring marzipan.”

Lady Dunn laughed. “Well, neither did I today, but I did bring Evie some ribbons. Will she be coming down, I hope?”

“Yes, with her governess.”

“Excellent. It’s Mrs. Shaw, is that correct? I’ve met her before. I’m surprised she decided to take a position as a governess. She’s a widow and the sister of a duchess. One would think she could marry quite well.”

Yes, she could. But Bran knew she didn’t want to—at least not to him. “I’m not certain she wishes to marry again.”

“Fascinating.” Lady Dunn gave her head a shake. “Some women prefer their independence. I can’t find fault with that since I am one of those women. I also knew I’d never find another man I loved as much as my husband. So I didn’t bother. Perhaps it’s the same for her.”

Bran hadn’t considered that. She’d mentioned that she couldn’t bear children, but maybe it was more than that. Or maybe it wasn’t that at all. Maybe that was an excuse she’d used to avoid telling him the real reason—that she still loved her husband. Did that even make sense? Why wouldn’t she tell him the truth? He suddenly wanted to know and vowed to find out.

Mrs. Shaw and Evie appeared at that moment, stepping into the drawing room. Evie went straight for Lady Dunn, who held her arms out for a hug.

“Lady Dunn,” Evie cried as she squeezed her. “Did you bring more marzipan?”

“I did not,” the viscountess said with a touch of regret. “I hope you aren’t cross. I did bring you some ribbons.” She opened a bag and showed her the bright colors.

“I love them!” Evie turned her head toward Mrs. Shaw, who stood just inside the room. “Look, Jo!”

Mrs. Shaw stepped forward and examined the ribbons. “Lovely.” She dipped a curtsey to Lady Dunn. “My lady, it’s nice to see you again.”

“And you.” Lady Dunn gave her attention to Evie once more. “You must call me Lady D. What do you think?”