Free Mary Blayney - [Pennistan 03] by Strangers Kiss Page B

took off his hat and greatcoat, handing them to the porter along with his cane. The servant looked mildly concerned.
    “I am preoccupied, tonight.”
    “But of course, Your Grace.”
    The man was so surprised that Meryon wondered if he had ever spoken to the night porter before. Surely he had at some point.
    The porter’s unquestioning acceptance reminded Meryon of Elena Verano’s diatribe: “No one questions you; you are never at fault.” And yes, here was his porter making excuses for him. He would have to note how often that happened.
    The door to the formal salon remained open, reminding him of the days when he would invite friends backafter a ball or some late-night gaming. He should tell the majordomo that there was no need to continue that tradition.
    He stepped into the room. Rowena’s portrait hung over the fireplace and he looked up at it, his hands behind his back.
    He had not taken time to look at it since he’d come back from France.
    Studying it now, he understood why. It represented how well she had suited the role of duchess. In the blue satin gown, wearing pearls and tiara, she appeared elegant, gracious, calm, and charming, but the portrait had failed to capture her essence.
    The artist had not captured Rowena’s naive sweetness, the natural friendliness that he thought of as her most delightful trait. That was what had endeared her to the ton.
    Those qualities had balanced his sober formality perfectly. Their union had always been civil and almost always comfortable, and until tonight he would have said happy, but now he realized that one crucial element had kept them from true happiness.
    Never once in eleven years had he forgotten to leave his hat at the front door. Rowena had never confused him or made him think or made him so angry he’d behaved stupidly.
    There had been no passion in their marriage.
    He had denied her that. Burdened with regret, he bowed to her portrait. It was time to move the painting to Derbyshire, to Pennford, where it would hang next to his. As someday he would lie beside her in the cemetery there.Meryon wiped the wet from his eyes and hoped that heaven gave her everything that she had not had in this life.
    He left the salon, walking more slowly now, not hearing the two footmen who set about closing the grand salon for the night, not noticing the new statue that had arrived and been placed that day, so lost in thought he stood at the door to his study and stared at the panels as if it took all his energy to accept the truth.
    Passion held the key to a well-lived life. Not just lust, but passion in so many other areas: music, sport, poetry, food. A passion for justice. That issue had consumed his life these past months. Until tonight.
    He had allowed himself to be drawn into an argument with a woman who understood better than he did the attraction that simmered between them. Now lust shouted at him, and he knew that one kiss would never be enough.
    E LENA, YOU MUST admit the duke had a very clever parting line.”
    “He was not exiting a stage.” Elena stopped pulling the pins from her hair and let the chill show in her voice as she answered her ward. “Our conversation was private, Mia, or should have been. You are eighteen, old enough to understand that.”
    “I could not help but hear.” The girl did not look or sound the slightest bit contrite. “I was in the small room next to the salon. You know it’s not possible to leave there except through the room you were in.” Her voice mixed apology and petulance.
    “Tell me, how did you happen to be in there?” She was almost afraid to ask. “That room is no good for anything more than storage. And I thought no one could open the window.”
    “To be honest,” Mia said, as though making a huge concession, “I was hiding from Tinotti. He and the Signora wanted me to help them inventory the wine.”
    “At ten o’clock?”
    “They insisted on waiting for you to come home and wanted to use the time sensibly. I