Free Ducal Encounters 01 - At the Duke's Discretion by Wendy Soliman Page B

had hurt her, at least not physically. She could not possibly be aware how much pain such a simple, albeit rather inappropriate action, was causing him. Their gazes clashed, her eyes gleaming with liquid fire and the awakening of…of what precisely? The air between them became taut with expectancy as she watched him with unnerving stillness. When a gasp of awareness slipped past her lips, it brought Amos to his senses, and he ceded control of the handkerchief to her. She pressed her fingers to it, holding it firmly against her forehead.
    “Thank you.”
    “What happened?” he asked for the second time. “I know you didn’t fall.”
    She did not immediately respond. The only sound was the jingling of Warrior’s bit as he chomped at the grass, the distant sound of a dog barking, and a melodious chorus of evening bird song. She absently pulled away a piece of the bark from the tree trunk they sat upon, her expression distant, brooding. A deep silence spread between them−the silent awareness of shared sensibility. Amos saw no occasion to break it, leaving her to her cogitations.
    “Someone did take me by surprise and caused me to fall,” she eventually said, staring off into the distance. “I did not see who it was.”
    Amos was disappointed by her response, but not surprised. “I would prefer it, Miss Brooke, if you would either tell me to go to the devil, or be honest with me.”
    She gasped and turned her head sharply back in his direction. This time he had her full attention. “Whatever do you mean?”
    “I mean you know who attacked you. It was Reece.”
    Her eyes darted wildly in all directions, as though seeking a way to escape from him. She was very afraid of something. Or someone. “What makes you say that?”
    “I saw him walking this way as I left the village. If he cut through the trees, he would have reached your position just before I did.”
    “Mr. Reece is not my favourite person−”
    “I am very pleased to hear you say so.”
    “But he would not attack me.”
    Amos screwed up his features. “There we must disagree.”
    “You do not know him.”
    “I have known men like him. They take what they want.” Amos had difficulty containing his anger when he saw the bruised look in her eye. Unable to understand why she would protect a man she despised, Amos itched to know the truth. “It is fortunate for you I came along when I did,” he said laconically.
    “I am very much obliged to you, my lord.”
    “I did not say that in the hope of earning your gratitude, Miss Brooke. Any gentleman would have provided the same service.” He fixed her with an ardent look. “But if you wish to reward me, I much would prefer you would honour me with your confidence.”
    She trilled a laugh that sounded forced. “About what? I don’t believe I have any secrets, and even if I did, why would I share them with you? More to the point, why would a gentleman of your stature be interested in my affairs?”
    Amos sighed. He enjoyed sitting there on an uncomfortable log at the edge of the common with the young lady who had made a huge impression upon him and occupied so many of his recent thoughts. He was in a position to know trust needed to be earned, and she was too afraid to place hers in him quite yet. Amos accepted he must set about earning that privilege.
    What struck him as extraordinary was the manner in which she spoke to him. Her uncle was a skilled and respected craftsman, it was true, but he was not a gentleman. Ergo, she was no lady and ought to be tongue-tied and awkward in the presence of a duke’s brother. And yet, she was not—nor had she been when she came to the house with her uncle. She poured tea for them all as though she was perfectly accustomed to doing so, barely a shake of her hand indicating nerves. Her speaking voice was refined, as were her manners. This infuriatingly secretive young lady was no stranger to good society, and he yearned to know more of her background. But he did not