Page 17 of The Blind Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

Annette sat by the window in her bedchamber.

She’d passed the night in unbroken sleep, which had been surprising.

That hardly had happened in the last three years, and the only thing she could attribute it to was either emotional exhaustion or the fact that something about the duke made her feel calm and protected.

Both of those things had been sorely missing from her life for far too long.

As he had every morning since they’d wed, Peregrine had greeted her from the other side of the door.

When he’d asked her if she wished to come out, just as he did every time he came to the door, she’d declined, but he’d left another posey of flowers on her breakfast tray.

It was one of the sweetest gestures anyone could do, and she looked forward to seeing what he’d chosen each day.

He’d said he had a meeting with his man-of-affairs around noon, so he’d left to prepare for that, which had meant she had time to contemplate the world by looking out her window.

There was no longer any use in denying that she was quite curious about the duke.

He had shown her over and over again that he had the patience of a saint and the determination of a hero of old.

And when he’d kissed her hand last night?

Oh, dear, she swore she could still feel the heat of his lips lingering on her skin.

Each time they talked, the magic of his baritone sank into her veins, and there was a small part of her that wondered what being bedded by him would feel like.

Especially since his gentle, fleeting exploration of her face when he kissed her had proved so sensual.

Yes, the duke leaned heavily toward romance, and she did, indeed, miss that from her life since Timothy had died, but was she strong enough to go through that gambit again?

Oddly enough, everything within her was urging her to open that door and join her husband into the life he was trying his best to build while she’d kept herself locked away.

She owed him at least understanding and compromise.

Spending the remainder of her life in a suite of rooms without ever seeing her husband or allowing him the gift of touch was a bit selfish, and she certainly didn’t want him to think that of her.

With a sigh, she returned to her contemplation of the greenery-filled square at the back of the townhouse as a spring breeze ruffled the curls on her forehead.

The air was redolent with the scent of growing things, flowers, and the scent of the sun on the brickwork of the townhouse.

Truly, the Bedford Square area was lovely and more quiet than other sections of Mayfair.

She didn’t mind beginning a new life here with the duke.

Go find him, you silly ninny.

Could she? Should she?

The sound of scratching at the door saved her from making a decision. With a smile, she crossed the room then opened the wooden panel a crack to let Romeo inside.

“Good afternoon, you handsome boy,” she greeted the fluffy, round, orange cat as he swaggered in as if he owned all he surveyed.

“Meow.” With a golden-eyed glance at her, the cat hopped onto the windowsill.

Apparently, he was content to sit and watch the world go by with her, as well as asking for a few pets to fill the time.

When he was bored, the cat jumped out of the window before she could stop him.

He walked the ledge, and finally jumped to the wall around the duke’s back garden.

“Romeo!” Oh, heavens. She’d let his cat get out. What if that was the end of the feline?

I have to find him. Pausing in the middle of her bedchamber, Annette allowed a small chuckle.

Well, played, fate, for providing a catalyst that propels me from this room.

In a bit of a panic, Annette crossed the room and yanked on the green brocade bell pull.

She would need Molly’s help and encouragement, for this was quite a monumental occasion.

The whisper of her cotton skirting in the color of daffodils gave her a modicum of confidence as she eased down the stairs in search of the duke.

When she didn’t find him in what she assumed might be the usual places—his study, the drawing room, or even the morning room taking the midday meal—she was obliged to seek out the butler, whom she’d yet to be introduced to since she’d hidden in her rooms since the wedding.

As the heat of embarrassment went through her cheeks, she found him in the small prepping closet between the drawing room and the dining room. “Ah, Mr…” Already, she was failing in her role as duchess.

The man of middling height and build turned to face her with a silver teapot in his hands. His face lit when he saw her. “Mr. Kern. I am the butler here.”

“Hullo.” She nodded. “I’m Lady Masterson.”

“It is lovely to finally meet you, Your Grace.” Nothing about his demeanor indicated judgment or curiosity as to where she’d been for the past handful of days. “Might I assist you with something?”

“Yes. I’m, um, searching for the duke. Do you know his whereabouts?”

“I do, in fact.” The butler offered a grin. “At this time of the day, in fair weather, he usually takes in the air in the rear garden. His Grace enjoys wandering about and feeling the sun on his face.”

“Thank you.” At least he liked going outside regardless of whether he could see or not. “I shall meet him there.”

“And, my lady? It is good to see you about and about. Welcome to your new home.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Kern.” Warmth rose in her chest. Perhaps she would be all right after all, if she went slowly.

Even though she shook from fear with each step at the thought of being out of her room or even going outside, she was intrigued by him, of how he gave up his time to sit with her and talk to her for nearly a week.

As soon as she entered the garden, Annette spied the duke, and she sucked in a breath. “Oh, goodness.” She hadn’t truly seen him since the morning of their nuptial ceremony, but he was no less striking now. Perhaps even more so after the time he’d invested into her.

Rare English sunlight filtered through the new leaves of the trees to make his black hair gleam and the silver threads therein almost sparkle.

The sapphire-blue jacket that stretched across his chest and shoulders like a dream sent her imagination into flights of fancy while the navy waistcoat with silver embroidered swirls drew her gaze to his flat abdomen.

Need speared through her at the thought of being held by him, feeling his lips against hers, perhaps having his hands on her body…

“Peregrine…”

Slowly, he turned. “Annette? You’ve left your rooms.” So much pleasure went through the statement that a tremble went through her heart.

He wore the same tinted spectacles he had the day of their wedding, but today, he sported a light shadow of stubble on his cheeks and jaw, which gave him a roguish air and immediately sent a wave of awareness over her.

“I have.” Only, not of her own free will… mostly.

“Well, I’m glad to see you out of your room.”

“Thank you.” She appreciated that he didn’t act shocked or give her a lecture, nor did he approach her location. He merely stood in the garden, with the backdrop of ornamental fruit trees and shrubberies, a hand on the head of his cane, waiting, just as he’d done all along.

Say something, you silly widgeon!

Not knowing what to do with her hands, Annette clasped them in front of her at her waist as she took a few steps toward him. “I… I wanted to see you.” The sun felt all too wonderful on her face. “After what you did for me, I owe you at least that.”

“You owe me nothing.” The duke stood ramrod straight with his cane in his hand. He didn’t give quarter; perhaps he feared being hurt by her the same way she thought of him. Different reasons or were they thoughts from the same branch?

“I’m your wife.”

“That doesn’t mean you owe me anything, except perhaps your companionship. You could read me poetry, or passages from Shakespeare.” He shrugged. “Or if you want something more fulfilling, I could play pianoforte, and you could sing.”

Was this moving too fast, or was she right where she needed to be with him? “I would be happy to do that.” It wasn’t such a frightening prospect, yet there was something missing, some vital component that she wanted—needed—from him but feared to put into words.

“But?” One of his dark eyebrows rose in question.

It was easier to take the coward’s way out, at least in this moment.

Annette shrugged. “Romeo jumped out of my window and escaped the house. I’m afraid I’ve lost him and am frightened this will be the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back for you.

” She hadn’t meant to reveal her insecurities, but it had been an emotionally fraught week.

Oddly, Peregrine chuckled. “Romeo is not lost.”

“What?” Her chest was tight with anxiety.

“My cat grows bored easily, and when that happens, he jumps out windows, but I always find him in this apple tree.” The duke pointed to the specific tree with his cane. Sure enough, the orange ball of fur was curled on two branches that were twisted together.

Relief flooded through her. “Oh, I’m so glad.”

“As am I. He’s an integral part of my life… my family.” His gaze flicked to her, intense behind the tinted lenses. “As are you.”

Heat went through her cheeks. “Oh, I’m quite certain I’ve been more trouble than I’m worth. Locked in my room hasn’t exactly been the behavior of a duchess.”

“Nonsense. As in everything, there is always an adjustment period, and you are out of those rooms now.” As he spoke, he moved toward her. “That is progress.”