Duke Darcy's Castle by Syrie James

Author:Syrie James
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2020-02-25T00:00:00+00:00

As he undressed for bed, Lance thought over everything he and Miss Atherton had done since he first ran into her that afternoon on the terrace, to the moment they had said good night after dinner.

She was such a fascinating woman. He had enjoyed every minute of their time together, and every word of the conversations they’d shared. He suspected that she had enjoyed it equally as much.

Which was a good thing. A very good thing.

“Thank you, Woodston,” Lance said as he divested himself of his shirt and handed it over to his valet.

A good-looking fellow in his early forties, Woodston had been particularly grief-stricken when Hayward died. And no wonder. The man had attended the former duke for nineteen years.

Although new to this duke business, Lance was accustomed to being waited on. As an officer in the Navy, he’d had his own servant, who in addition to his normal duties looked after Lance’s cabin, served as his valet, fetched his washing water, and served him at table.

Woodston, Lance had been pleased to discover, was equally as skilled and devoted as the Marine who had last served him in that capacity. Hayward had chosen well.

“I’ve had the most wonderful day,” Lance added.

“Did you, Your Grace?” the valet asked.

“Yes.” Lance sat down and removed his boots and stockings. “Miss Atherton and I went into Rosquay. It began as a simple matter to purchase her a new hat. Then she insisted on meeting with some local craftsmen. I worried that they might not take to her because she’s a woman. There was some initial reluctance at first. But then something remarkable happened.”

“What is that, Your Grace?”

“Once the men got over their initial mistrust and started actually listening to what Miss Atherton was saying, it was a different story. She impressed them with her energy and her imagination.” Lance chuckled as he stood up and unbuttoned his trousers. “She charmed the socks off of every single one of them.”

“Good for her,” Woodston commented, taking Lance’s pants and hanging them up.

“She did it all on her own as well.” Renovation not being a skill in his wheelhouse, Lance had simply stood by, letting her do all the talking. “We now have an army of painters, upholsterers, wall paperers, and wood carvers at my beck and call, ready to bid on the project.”

To bid on the project.

The notion gave Lance pause.

The chance that Miss Atherton’s drawings would ever actually reach the bidding phase was still a frail ghost of a prospect. It depended entirely on whether or not she would agree to marry him.

When . . . and if . . . he had the nerve to ask her again.

Give her a chance to get to know you. People change their minds every day.

He pictured the moment in his mind. Perhaps he would find her standing at the terrace wall, as he had this afternoon. Or walking on the beach. He would take her hand in his and kiss it and say, My dearest Miss Atherton, you are all I think about.

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