Awakening His Duchess by Katy Madison

forward. A valet would help his master disrobe.
    If Yvette thought to use seduction to put their marriage on
solid ground, he’d throttle her. Of course the last thing he needed his new
valet witnessing was her being thrown out of his bed—if that was where she was.
Beau pointed to the hall. “Good night.”
    “Yes, sir, my lord, sir.” The lamplight caught the dull
flush in his face.
    “We’ll learn to rub on well enough, Digby, but if you say my
lord or sir again, I shall demand you call me Beau.” He grabbed the immobile
lad’s sleeve and steered him back out into the hallway.
    The boy’s mouth fell open. Beau shut the door in his face.
    He forced his leg to bear weight as he marched toward his
bedchamber. His lungs fought him, and a faint whistle as he breathed didn’t
bode well for the night. He forced himself to remain calm. The seizing of his
lungs would only grow worse if he grew angry, but he’d be damned before he let
Yvette ply her tricks.
    As he drew near the lighted archway of his chamber he
registered that the bed covers were turned down. His nightshirt and dressing
gown draped across the foot of his empty bed.
    A shimmer of something too like disappointment curled in his
stomach. Was she here? She seemed to have no compunction against touching him
in the hallway. Was she not viper enough to wait in his bed like an eager
bride?
    He closed his eyes blocking the twisted thoughts. He didn’t
want her in his bed, but he would have loved to throw her out of it. With the
rattling his chest was doing, he wouldn’t be capable of anything more.
    He spun around. A solitary lamp burned on a sitting room
table, the spill of light coming from the right chamber’s fireplace and the
dark hole that marked the other archway.
    Still the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Just as he had
sensed her when he was with Etienne, he felt her presence.
    With a hand braced on the wall, he made his way to the dark
archway and leaned against the frame, relieving his weak leg. His eyes slowly
adjusted and the lumps in the room became objects. A chair, a nightstand, a bed
with all the draperies drawn. Curious. The curtains would usually be tied back
even when the bed was occupied except on the coldest of nights. Tonight might
be chilly, but it was a long way from winter.
    He listened, but all he could hear was the uncommonly loud
rasp of his own breathing. Was she hiding? Or was he imagining things?
    He stared, watching for a twitch of the draperies, the
whisper of sheets under a shifting form, the deep breathing of a sleeping
being.
    With his leg screaming at the overuse, he didn’t want to
walk across the space to discover if she was hiding behind the curtains. He
almost laughed at the foolish notion. Yvette wasn’t the type to cower away in
the dark. If she was here, she’d be waiting in his bed or in the sitting room
for another confrontation. Wouldn’t she? He still couldn’t quite dismiss the
idea that she was here. Silence rang in his ears until the snap of the fire
startled him.
    Swiveling he discovered the fireplace in the lady’s chamber
was bare. No fire had been laid nor were there ashes to signify a fire had burned
out.
    He stilled his own breathing and heard nothing but the beat
of his own heart. His head spun and his weakened lungs protested. He let out
his breath in a rasping gasp and drew in fresh air as deeply as he could.
    The room was empty. He must have imagined her. Alone for the
first time in a decade, he felt vaguely unsettled by the solitariness of his
existence. He tried to sigh, but his lungs were too tight.
    Odd that in the bosom of his family, he was more alone than
he had been since he left. He should revel in the new freedom, but instead he
fought the urge to summon Digby back.
    Shaking his head he crossed through the sitting room to his
bedchamber, snuffing the lamp as he passed the table.
    With only the dim light of the fire, he sat down and removed
his boots. Then he stripped to his skin,