Page 242 of Dukes for Dessert

“—have to eat,” he finished firmly, and pulled out a chair for her.

Instead of their usual disarray of documents, the table overflowed with an abundant tea setting.

She sat, suddenly famished. “Thank you.”

Rather than preside from the head of the table, he took the seat beside her, as had become their custom.

“Pear tarts.” He placed two on her plate. “Not another word until you’ve eaten them.”

She grinned and picked up her fork. From the moment Azureford had discovered pear tarts were her favorites, tea hadn’t been served without them. Enjoying two at a time was no hardship at all.

When tea was finished, she turned to Azureford as the footmen cleared the table. “I was thinking...”

He held up a finger as if he’d been expecting precisely those words, and retrieved a small box from a side table. She laughed as he displayed his treasures: three new journals, two freshly cut plumes, and a large bottle of ink.

“I don’t think that much,” she teased him.

He arched his brows. “If I don’t keep my eye on you, all three of those journals will be fully illustrated by nightfall.”

“Then I suppose you better keep your eyes on me,” she answered lightly.

His voice turned husky. “I do.”

Her pulse skipped. Suddenly very aware of how close their bodies were to each other, she busied herself with the plumes and journals.

The moment passed, and in no time their heads were bent together over the designs for the billiard room and the timeline they needed to adhere to in order for all the pieces to fall into place on schedule.

Carole was no longer certain which were her favorite moments of the day: standing in the eye of the construction storm, or being elbow-to-elbow with Azureford amid a blanket of plans and sketches.

Despite being a powerful duke, he was neither arrogant nor imperious. He listened to her suggestions as though she were the one with the Oxford degree. Not that he hid his own opinions. Azureford was splendid to debate ideas with. His analytical nature was the perfect complement to her artistic imagination. Rather than argue, their conversations were liberally sprinkled with what if we and oh, I hadn’t thought of it that way!

They weren’t just a good team, she realized with wonder. Over a solid week of near-constant togetherness, they’d managed to become friends. She was free to be herself. Draw what she pleased, make as bold a suggestion as she liked. And as for him… what more could a woman want?

“This week,” he continued, “Thurston’s workshop is crafting the pieces for our billiard table. Next week when it arrives, they’ll install it directly in the new billiard room—”

“I’ll get to meet John Thurston?” she squealed.

“A pox on Thurston,” Azureford scolded with mock jealousy. “You’ll meet his contracted assembly team and that’s all.”

She feigned a lovesick swoon. “I’ll meet someone who has met John Thurston!”

“If I never hear that name again…” Azureford growled.

“Miss!” Jimmy poked his head inside the dining room. “Campbell wants to know if we can—”

“I’ll be right there.”

She leaped to her feet to gather their papers. Belatedly, she realized she must have set her teacup atop one of her sketches instead of in its saucer, for it had left a telltale golden ring around part of her signature.

Azureford was staring at it as though the stain foretold certain doom.

“Sorry.” She shuffled the sheet to the bottom of the pile. “I’ll draw a new one. Let’s go and see what Jimmy wants.”

When they reached the billiard room, she saw they’d finally completed the one modification she hadn’t yet shared with Azureford: a reading nook in the corner near the fireplace, with room for a chaise or sofa and a place of honor for his favorite books.

His jaw dropped. “Is that… Did you…”

She nodded. “The best light is supposed to be for the billiard table, but I know how deeply the old library kept you connected to your father. All his books are there, with room for more. You can hold them and read them anytime.”