Page 5 of A Duke Of Her Own
Alexander’s lips curved in a small smile. “Tobias sounds like quite the rebel.”
“In the best way,” Francie agreed, her mouth softening as she thought about her brother. “He has a son … I hardly see my nephew, and though I receive frequent updates about his progress through letters, I wish I was there to see the first steps his mother wrote about.”
The awful ache for her own family echoed in her words, and she looked away from Alexander’s intent stare. Francie felt she was sharing too much. Samson let out a soft, sleep-infusedwooffrom his warm spot by the fire.
“Why are you not with your family, Francie?”
Her heart thumped and she canted her head to the side, staring at him. “Why do you ask?”
“I am not satisfied.”
With the small piece of yourself that you give me, his stare seemed to silently communicate. An ache formed in her throat. There was no need to ask him to expound, Francie understood. “I…”
“I want to know more about you,” Alexander murmured, a far too dangerous gleam in his silver eyes. “Why do you live in a cottage by yourself?”
She froze, her heart pounding. Alexander had never before enquired why she lived alone. Many of their neighbors presumed she was a young widow. “Have you not heard I am a widow?”
“I have heard. Is that why you do not allow anyone too close?”
“Perhaps it was simply too risky.”
He arched a questioning brow. “Sometimes, taking the risk brings its own rewards.”
That aching emptiness in her heart yawned wider. “Yes,” Francie whispered, meeting his gaze. “Sometimes, it really does.” As she stared at the mysterious yet compelling gentleman before her, Francie could not help silently asking …,Dare I take another step toward you?What are your innermost secrets, and why do I even want to know them?
CHAPTER3
Miss Walcott’s eyes held the depth of dark emeralds, catching glints of sunlight as she stared at him with that deplorable hint of sadness. Her beautiful eyes should only shine with delight, laughter, passion, and love. He wanted to wipe that sadness from her eyes. This awareness no longer shocked Alexander. Any such reaction to Miss Francie Walcott had faded several months ago. Alexander had simply accepted his extraordinary reaction to her lovely amiability. Still, he had done nothing to pursue the interest she stroke within his body and heart.
A fine tremor went through her elegant frame. Her eyes held too much pain, and Alexander himself grieved the death of his father and sought solace in the woodlands of Derbyshire. She had felt like a kindred soul when they first met. Someone in her life had injured her, and despite not knowing the situation, Alexander wanted to find that person and bury them. Earlier, when he had watched her walking through the woodlands dressed in an elegant yellow gown, Francie seemed like a creature born of the forest itself as she came toward him. His unwitting tormentor had tested his self-restraints these last few months.
A sense of surety overcame him as he watched her casually lean against the sofa. According to the multiple beseeching letters his mother sent him, he needed to secure an heir, and Miss Walcott could be that lady if she would have him. She unexpectedly entered his life at a time when he was least prepared for it, leaving an indelible mark on his heart. Her charming amiability and kindness resonated with him, a soothing balm to grief that had haunted Alexander. Her compassion seemed almost boundless. Her wit was invigorating, spurring conversations that lingered in his thoughts long after they were over. And then there was her smile—genuine and filled with sparkling allure.
Every interaction with her pulled Alexander deeper. It was as if she cast a spell on him—one woven from strands of grace, good-natured amiability, intelligence, and warmth. Could he ask for his wife to possess anything more?
Now, the only things he needed to confirm were her background and connections to his world. Instinct warned him he would have to tread carefully. The lady may not be aware of it, but there were times she stared at him with wounded wariness. That very gaze regarded him now with a hint of fright and determination.
“You have a very expressive face, Francie. Please, speak whatever you are in doubt about.”
Her eyes widened, and she laughed, sheepishly tucking a wisp of raven black hair behind her hair. “Some musings are just too mortifying to disclose,” she remarked, punctuating her words with a delicate chuckle. “Only a friend would be privy to such secrets.”
Alexander feigned a wounded expression. “That cuts deep. Are you implying that we aren’t friends?”
She wrinkled her nose endearingly as she responded, “Well, I could confide in a female friend, but sharing those particular secrets with you? That’s a different story!”
Alexander raised an eyebrow in bemusement. “Why the distinction? A friend is a friend, regardless of their gender. Surely the essence of friendship isn’t defined by whether one is male or female.”
She narrowed her gaze contemplatively on him. “I shared something very private and heartbreaking with a good friend … and she betrayed my confidence.”
There was no mistaking the echoes of remembered pain in her tone.
“I’ll not urge you then,” he said softly. “Know that I would never betray your trust.”
His ragged sigh pierced her with warmth. “I believe you.”
“Good.” Somehow, Alexader could tell that she did not like that she so readily placed her faith in him.
Francie stared at him for several beats then her expression softened. “I was merely thinking about risks and the rewards that come with it.”