The Duke of Defiance (The Untouchables #5)(58)

Which had led Jo to wonder if she could. She’d considered asking Nora when she’d gone over there to fetch Evie but had ultimately decided against it. Nora would’ve asked if she was having second thoughts about being a governess. And she wasn’t. No, she was having second thoughts about what she was doing with Bran.

She settled back against the pillow and exhaled. She’d meant it when she’d told him she didn’t regret lying with him the other night. And she’d thoroughly enjoyed their banter before Lady Dunn had interrupted them. She envisioned another magical night before them. Instead, he was at a ball. Without her.

She threw off the covers and stood from the bed, sliding her feet into a pair of slippers. Pulling on her robe and tying the sash, she made her way from the room. Maybe a book would help her fall asleep.

She crept down the stairs and made her way to Bran’s office. It was dark and cold without him in it. It wasn’t completely dark—embers from the fire burned low in the grate. She set her candlestick on his desk, and her eye caught the jar of shells. Evie had told her that she’d collected them in Barbados every time she and her father had walked along the beach. It sounded idyllic. She’d thought of it today as they’d walked hand in hand to the park. It was impossible not to imagine them as a family, not when she felt like they were, or at least could be very easily.

If it weren’t for her problem.

And that was the issue. Every day Evie and Bran stole a little more of her heart, and when the time eventually—and unavoidably—came for him to take a wife, everything would change.

She turned from the shells, her chest pulling. The crate of things he’d brought from Barbados was pushed up against the bookshelves, the lid propped beside it. Several items had made their ways into various rooms, including a miniature of his wife, which now hung in Evie’s room.

Louisa Crowther had been very beautiful, with shining golden hair and a soft smile. Jo could see the resemblance between her and Evie and wondered if Bran was reminded of her every time he looked at his daughter. Had his marriage been a happy one? She simultaneously wanted to know and yet didn’t. It would be easier to think her death hadn’t adversely affected him in the way that Matthias’s hadn’t upset Jo.

She knelt next to the crate and picked up a coin, wondering if it had been mistakenly dropped inside or if it was a memento of some kind. It was rather worn, the edges dull and smooth. She set it back into the crate and her knuckles grazed an object wrapped in paper.

Carefully, she uncovered the item. It was a small golden box with a rope dancer. Jo gasped softly at its exquisite beauty.

“That’s a music box.”

Jo swung her head toward the doorway. Bran stood there, his cravat and coat missing and his waistcoat unbuttoned. She was growing used to seeing him thus, but he never failed to make her think of an untamed animal. He was an aberration, a gentleman who refused to adhere to Society’s rules and requirements, and he made no apologies. All that just made him more attractive to her.

She blushed at being caught prying through his things. “I was curious. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

He stepped over the threshold. “I don’t mind. I went upstairs to your chamber as soon as I arrived home, but you weren’t there.”

She set the music box back in the crate and stood. “I came for a book, and then I saw the crate.”

He went to it and leaned down to look through it for a moment. “Did you find a small key with the box?”

“No. It was wrapped in paper, and that was the only thing inside.”

He straightened. “The key has been missing for some time. I’d hoped it had magically appeared. The box was a gift to Louisa from her parents when we married.” He bent to retrieve it. Holding the box in one hand, he lifted the glass top. He pointed to a hole in the intricate design of the rope dancer. “See here?” At her nod, he continued. “The key is inserted here. After you turn it a few times, the music plays, and the dancer jumps up and down on the rope. It’s an automaton.”

She wished she could see it. “How clever.”

“Quite. If only I could find the key, but I’m sure I can find a shop here in London that can fabricate another.”

“I’m sure you could, yes.”

He put the glass lid back down and set it on one of the bookshelves. “Then I’ll give it to Evie. She used to listen to it constantly when she was very young. I think she may have been the one to lose the key. I wonder if she even remembers it.”

“It would be a nice thing for her to have since it belonged to her mother.” Jo had a handkerchief her mother had made and nothing else. “Do you miss her?” She hadn’t meant to ask, but the question had simply leapt from her mouth.

He stared at his desk for a moment, his brow creasing. “Not really. I wish she hadn’t died, especially for Evie’s sake.”

“Were you happy?” Jo asked softly.

He turned his gaze toward hers. “Happier than you were, I imagine. She was a kind and lovely woman.”

The jealousy Jo felt earlier burned through her again, which was petty. She oughtn’t be jealous of a dead woman. Just as she oughtn’t be jealous of him going to a ball.

But she was. When she thought of him, dazzling and unbearably handsome beneath a thousand candles, her heart ached. “How was the ball?” The question sounded brittle to her ears.