My Once and Future Duke (The Wagers of Sin #1)(25)

The duke stopped and looked up. “My great--grandmother. The house was built for her, and she oversaw the planning of the gardens.”

“My,” she murmured, impressed. “Your great--grandfather must have loved her very much.”

“On the contrary,” he said. “I believe they disliked the sight of each other. He built this house and exiled her to it.”

Disconcerted, Sophie jerked her gaze away from the portrait. “Oh.”

Ware clasped his hands behind his back and contemplated his ancestor. “I understand she was much happier here. He gave her free rein to do as she pleased with the house, so long as she remained in it.”

“Charming,” was all she could think of to say. It sounded like something her grandfather, Lord Makepeace, would do. The duke gave her an unreadable glance, then swept out one hand, indicating she should proceed through the door.

They went through the soaring staircase hall and into another room. “The Blue Room,” he said unnecessarily. The carpet was a luxurious sapphire blue, woven with vines and flowers in endless spirals. The woodwork was polished mahogany with gold accents, as was the furniture, which was upholstered in the same deep blue damask that covered the walls. Tall windows looked out onto a garden, now limp and bedraggled in the rain but exquisitely terraced and arranged. Sophie took her time strolling through the room, examining the paintings, all bucolic landscapes.

“Look up,” said the duke when she had finished her circuit. Obediently she put her head back—-and gasped out loud.

The ceiling was coffered in alternating octagons and squares of dark wood. That was unremarkable. What set it aside were the carvings. The whole ceiling seemed to be alive, as if a woodland had been captured in polished walnut. All sorts of creatures peered from every cornice, stags and hounds, birds, even mythological creatures. “How beautiful,” she whispered, craning her neck to see as much as possible as she circled the room again. “It’s incredible! How long it must have taken to carve all these!”

“My brother and I would lie on our backs as boys and try to locate various animals,” said the duke.

She gave a disbelieving laugh, as her eyes picked out a thin--faced weasel, a fat cat, and even an exotic elephant. “I don’t wonder!” She came around the sofa, still looking upward, and tripped on the fringe of the carpet.

With one quick step forward, the duke reached for her. Sophie yelped in dismay, expecting to hit the floor, only to be hauled up against him instead. She had instinctively grabbed his sleeve, and now their arms were tangled together. For a moment neither moved, and then the duke put her back on her feet without a word. With a murmured apology she stepped back. Her heart raced, both from the sudden near fall and then from the feel of his arms around her. She hadn’t realized she was that close to him, and now found it difficult to meet his eyes.

Which was foolish. He had done what any gentleman would have done. Sophie drew a fortifying breath and told herself not to be a ninny. “Which is your favorite?”

He was staring at her and blinked at the question. He clasped his hands behind his back and straightened to his usual poker--stiff posture. “Sorry?”

“Your favorite creature,” she said. “On the ceiling.”

He looked upward as if he didn’t understand what she meant. “Ah—-the sphinx. Above the fireplace,” he added as she immediately looked up again, careful not to walk. “I believe it has my grandfather’s face.”

Yes, there it was. Mindful of her steps this time, she went closer. “How clever.”

“I always thought it was,” he said thoughtfully. “I believe my great--grandmother had his face—-and the faces of all her children—-carved into the ceiling because she almost never saw them in life.”

“Never!” she exclaimed. “Why not?”

“He and his brothers were sent off to school as soon as they were old enough, and he was rarely here. The sisters were sent to live with other well--connected families or to finishing schools. One died, but the other two made their debuts and were married off by the time they were eighteen.”

There was nothing except calm contemplation in his tone, but Sophie felt a shadow fall on the room. This beautiful room suddenly became the solace of a grieving mother. “How many children?” she asked softly.

“Six. The daughters were permitted to live with her until they were twelve.”

“That’s beastly,” she burst out. “Who would deny a mother her own children?”

He sighed. “The same sort who would exile his wife, and only visit her once a year for the purpose of siring another child.”

Again that brought her own grandfather to mind. He’d disowned his son, Sophie’s father, and then exiled her to Mrs. Upton’s when she was orphaned. The fact that she was grateful for it didn’t change the fact that he’d done it to be rid of her. Her mouth flattened into a grim line before she consciously relaxed her muscles. “I hope the next room is more pleasant,” she said lightly. “Or I shall begin to wonder why you like the house.”

“Do you find it morbid?” The duke had been watching her, but now he tipped his chin up to study the ceiling again. “It was the way things were done.”

“Oh?” She eyed him. “Were you sent away to school then, and Philip?”