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CHAPTER 15

After the maid had helped Gemma into her nightgown, she slipped under the sheets and hugged a pillow to her chest.

She had not met many men before, but she could wager that the Duke was unique. He made her feel in ways that sparked opposing frissons of delight and alarm.

For so long she had been the sole master of her emotions; she hadn’t recognized how hard it had been to hold them in. Now, simply letting go of the tight rein had lightened her heart. With his persistence and tenderness, he was slowly teaching her to trust.

It doesn’t harm his cause that he is as handsome as a prince..

As she tried to drift off to sleep, the constant rumbles and crashes of thunder kept her awake until she gave up on thepossibility, donned her robe, picked up a lamp, and headed to the library.

The room was dark and cloaked in shadows that danced across the ceiling. Before she found a bookshelf to inspect, or took a chosen book to the reading nook, she stopped in front of a large glass-paned window.

Trees were bowing under the force of the wind, their leaves dark against the inky sky. Each time the lightning flashed and lit up the sky, she could see the silver edges of the storm clouds and the sliver of moon behind them.

Gemma turned away from the spectacle and began to search the shelves for a book that would be of interest to her. She spottedTroilus and Criseyde, A Poem, and Tragic Love Story.

That sounded interesting, but as was the case withA Thousand and One Nights,the book was several inches above her reach.

“Oh, fiddlesticks,” she grumbled, while looking around. “What should I do?”

There were some ottomans nearby, but they appeared too heavy to lift, and she would never desecrate books by piling them up and standing on them.

“Remind me to get a step ladder made for you,” the Duke’s smoky voice caused her to leap a foot into the air.

Pressing a hand to her pounding heart, Gemma stuttered. “Y-you scared me, Your Grace.”

Silently, he plucked the book from the shelf and handed it to her. “I suppose you are unable to sleep?”

“I cannot,” she fingered the book’s spine. “I assume you could not rest either?” Her eyes dipped to his feet. “And neither could Remus.”

“He becomes very nervous around loud noises,” Frederick dropped a hand to his dog’s head. “Now, find a seat for us. I will be a moment.”

Surprised that he wanted to sit with her, she moved to one of the couches near the coffee table and sat the lamp on an end table. She cracked open the first page and squinted at the lines.

Troilus’s double sorrow for to tell, he that was son of Priam King of Troy, and how, in loving, his adventures fell from grief to good, and after out of joy, my purpose is, before I make envoy.

Tisiphone, do you help me, so I might pen these sad lines, that weep now as I write.

“I may have made a mistake by choosing this,” Gemma said, debating whether to return it and find something lighter.

Frederick sat down beside her and asked, “what do you mean by that?”

“It seems to be a sad tale,” she said. “I would rather not read something that might make me cry.”

His laugh was low and almost sardonic as he flipped through the pages. “True love does not always end happily.”

She met his gaze, curiosity sparking. “What makes you say that?”

He hesitated, the corners of his mouth twitching in a wry smile. “Experience, I suppose. I have seen the power of what true love can do, but I have also seen how easily it can fade.”

“How—how did you come to know that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He paused, his expression inscrutable. “Let us just say that I have been around long enough to know that happy endings belong in books. Forgive me if I sound a bit jaded, but I assure you, I am not.”

Lips tight, she retracted her hand. “Have you… have you ever fallen in love?”

“No,” he said. “Finding someone to love seems to be in poor quantity these days. In my station, all they see is unimaginable wealth and luxury.”