Courtland.
Harmony stole so many glimpses she began to feel embarrassed about it. He occasionally, unknowingly, obliged her by turning to stare out the window. Then she might gaze openly at his robust posture, the masculine set of his jaw. She remembered the day by the lake when she’d strolled beside him, how very strong and firm his forearm had felt beneath his fine coat. Now she truly knew the strength of that arm.
She hadn’t forgotten about that, her spanking. She would not tell the other ladies about it, for they would never understand. It hadn’t felt mean or cruel, more a natural extension of his obvious need to control, to rule. To behave as a disciplined person and sometimes exert that discipline upon those around him. Those needs were just one more intriguing aspect about him, and not exactly repulsive to her mind. Strange? A little, perhaps. He was still a kind man. She was certain of that.
But he was a duke, at the end of it. He always would be, and she would always be odd Miss Harmony Barrett who had never found her place in the world. She would doubtless have many regrets about their journey when they returned to Danbury House, but she knew she could never be fully sorry because she had enjoyed her time in his company.
Oh, she would miss him so much.
“What is the matter?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“N—Nothing, Your Grace.”
“You look troubled.”
Harmony swallowed hard. “I was just thinking that I have enjoyed knowing you, but we are very different from one another.”
“We are. But in some ways, I imagine we are the same.”
“What ways?”
He gave her an unfathomable look. “A puzzle for you, Miss Barrett. To occupy your time. How are we the same?”
“I don’t know.” She studied him, wishing she knew him better. Wishing she had more time to discover who he truly was. “What is the story of your life, Your Grace? What has made you into the man you are today?”
He pondered a moment, rubbing his fingers over his lips and then brushing them down his chin. “I was born to the Duke and Duchess of Courtland thirty years ago. I was raised from the most tender age to succeed my father to the title, which occurred when I was fourteen years old.”
She waited, but he said nothing more. “That’s it?”
His cultivated features took on a severe air. “That is the story of my life. I left out the minor details.”
“You left out all the details.”
“I shared the details I wished to share. But you see the man I am before you. What brought me to this state is irrelevant. All that matters is the manner in which I conduct myself going forward.”
“I see,” she said. “How philosophical of you.”
His lips tightened even further, before relaxing into what might almost be called a smile. “I would ask the story of your life, but I expect it might take a week or so for you to relate it and we are nearly to Danbury House.”
“Your Grace is incorrect,” she said. “It would take at least a month.”
He laughed then, a short burst of mirth that transformed his shadowed face. His smiles were never grins, but more like secrets he shared. “I wonder, Miss Barrett, if you will not end up being the story of my life.”
With those words, the carriage crossed through the gates. It was late, the dinner hour, but a crowd materialized as they clattered round the front of the manor house. There was her brother at the front, looking red-faced and furious. Stephen yanked open the door the moment the carriage stopped.
“I can hardly believe it, Courtland.” He glared into the coach at the two of them. “And you’ll drive up here to the front door with all the pomp of a bloody king. No, I can’t fathom it at all.”
“This will not be handled publicly,” His Grace said. “If you will meet me in Darlington’s library, we will discuss the situation.”
“Discuss the situation?” Stephen snarled as the duke stepped down. “If you think you can talk your way out of this
Harmony stole so many glimpses she began to feel embarrassed about it. He occasionally, unknowingly, obliged her by turning to stare out the window. Then she might gaze openly at his robust posture, the masculine set of his jaw. She remembered the day by the lake when she’d strolled beside him, how very strong and firm his forearm had felt beneath his fine coat. Now she truly knew the strength of that arm.
She hadn’t forgotten about that, her spanking. She would not tell the other ladies about it, for they would never understand. It hadn’t felt mean or cruel, more a natural extension of his obvious need to control, to rule. To behave as a disciplined person and sometimes exert that discipline upon those around him. Those needs were just one more intriguing aspect about him, and not exactly repulsive to her mind. Strange? A little, perhaps. He was still a kind man. She was certain of that.
But he was a duke, at the end of it. He always would be, and she would always be odd Miss Harmony Barrett who had never found her place in the world. She would doubtless have many regrets about their journey when they returned to Danbury House, but she knew she could never be fully sorry because she had enjoyed her time in his company.
Oh, she would miss him so much.
“What is the matter?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“N—Nothing, Your Grace.”
“You look troubled.”
Harmony swallowed hard. “I was just thinking that I have enjoyed knowing you, but we are very different from one another.”
“We are. But in some ways, I imagine we are the same.”
“What ways?”
He gave her an unfathomable look. “A puzzle for you, Miss Barrett. To occupy your time. How are we the same?”
“I don’t know.” She studied him, wishing she knew him better. Wishing she had more time to discover who he truly was. “What is the story of your life, Your Grace? What has made you into the man you are today?”
He pondered a moment, rubbing his fingers over his lips and then brushing them down his chin. “I was born to the Duke and Duchess of Courtland thirty years ago. I was raised from the most tender age to succeed my father to the title, which occurred when I was fourteen years old.”
She waited, but he said nothing more. “That’s it?”
His cultivated features took on a severe air. “That is the story of my life. I left out the minor details.”
“You left out all the details.”
“I shared the details I wished to share. But you see the man I am before you. What brought me to this state is irrelevant. All that matters is the manner in which I conduct myself going forward.”
“I see,” she said. “How philosophical of you.”
His lips tightened even further, before relaxing into what might almost be called a smile. “I would ask the story of your life, but I expect it might take a week or so for you to relate it and we are nearly to Danbury House.”
“Your Grace is incorrect,” she said. “It would take at least a month.”
He laughed then, a short burst of mirth that transformed his shadowed face. His smiles were never grins, but more like secrets he shared. “I wonder, Miss Barrett, if you will not end up being the story of my life.”
With those words, the carriage crossed through the gates. It was late, the dinner hour, but a crowd materialized as they clattered round the front of the manor house. There was her brother at the front, looking red-faced and furious. Stephen yanked open the door the moment the carriage stopped.
“I can hardly believe it, Courtland.” He glared into the coach at the two of them. “And you’ll drive up here to the front door with all the pomp of a bloody king. No, I can’t fathom it at all.”
“This will not be handled publicly,” His Grace said. “If you will meet me in Darlington’s library, we will discuss the situation.”
“Discuss the situation?” Stephen snarled as the duke stepped down. “If you think you can talk your way out of this
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