she might have another day to walk the halls of this house she had long thought of as her home. ‘And what did you tell him?’
‘That it wasn’t necessary to have rooms arranged for the both of you since I would make sure you left shortly. I did, however, tell him to make certain your servants were fed so they had something warm in their bellies for the journey ahead. Your servants should not have to suffer because their mistress had made a foolish decision.’
‘I don’t make foolish decisions.’ Not any that she would admit to him at least.
He arched his brow and did not appear convinced. ‘You arrived on my doorstep in the middle of winter, from who knows how far away, assuming I would not be here and you and your aunt would be granted use of my house by my staff. That sounds foolish to me.’
‘It was a risk worth taking. My aunt resides in Bath. It is not too far a journey from here. If we had been unable to stay, we would simply have continued on to her home. Haven’t you ever tried something just to see if it was possible?’
‘More times than I’d care to admit. Is that what you were doing in coming here today? You were just trying to see if you could indeed stay here for a while. What is it about this house that makes you want it so badly?’
She couldn’t confess the complete truth to him. It would make her sound pathetic and needy. Let him believe whatever he wanted. Maybe there was still a way to convince him that he would be happier in the dark and sombre designs of Clivemoore House. Its dark colours would suit his grumpy disposition.
Simon was well aware his mouth had dropped open and his breeches had tightened when he saw the Duchess of Skeffington raise her skirts and unknowingly give him the chance to admire her very shapely long legs from the open doorway of the armoury. He didn’t want to admire anything about her. She was a haughty, materialistic woman who could agitate him like no other. But there was no denying she had legs that went on for ever and, for just an instant, he imagined skimming his hands up them.
Then she turned and pointed that sword of hers at him and he was reminded that she had the type of temperament that made it distinctly possible that she could turn that metal sword to ice simply by holding it.
In the late afternoon light that was now casting her face in a warm glow, he watched her attempt to gather the right words to explain to him why she couldn’t give up Stonehaven. He suspected she was trying to think of something to say that didn’t reveal that she wanted the higher income Stonehaven would bring to her over Clivemoore. He waited for her to offer some sentimental tale, like she had spent her honeymoon here, but she remained silent. Shortly after the old Duke’s will was read, he met with the man’s secretary, Mr Mix, and was informed of the profitability of each of the estates. Surprisingly, Clivemoore was the least profitable, bringing in eight thousand pounds per year. Stonehaven brought in ten thousand.
Simon was not about to give that income and this house to the Duchess. The Blue Drawing Room currently stored items that had come over on the ship with him from France and, although he would barely be spending any time at Stonehaven, the estate provided him with a tidy income that he could use to support both the house and some of his future excavations.
He couldn’t imagine why she had wandered into the armoury. Had she left something here that she wanted back? He understood that the contents of all the houses were his and she had no right to take any of the items with her to Clivemoore unless he granted her permission. He had no attachment to any of the things that were owned by his predecessor. He felt no sense of fondness for the family who had deserted his father when he married Simon’s French Huguenot mother. If the Duchess were honest with him about what she was looking for in the house, he might be inclined to give it to her, but she was not getting Stonehaven. It was the one thing he was grateful he had inherited with this damned title that placed too much attention on him and disrupted his plans.
She toyed with her emerald necklace. ‘Surely you must know by now that I was responsible for redecorating a number of rooms in this house. I simply like it here. It suits me.’
‘You say this house suits you,’ he said, ‘but as you can see, I am slowly going to be redecorating it to suit my taste. This house will not look the way you will fondly remember it when I am through with it.’
There was a slight twitch to her eye, letting him know that his statement had affected her.
‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You are enjoying taunting me with the fact that the one thing I want, I cannot have.’
‘Is this truly the only thing in this world that you cannot have?’
There was a hesitation and he could tell her thoughts had wandered to something else—probably the grand ducal seat in Somerset that was the most profitable and prestigious of the Skeffington estates that could never be used as a Dowager House. But he knew by the set of her posture that she wasn’t about to share her thoughts with him. At least she was not a hysterical female. He would give her that. Some women would have pleaded and cried to try to sway his decision. He had the impression the Duchess would have preferred to walk for days in the desert without water before she shed one tear in front of him.
‘This house means a great deal to me as you can see,’ she said, looking away towards the windows, ‘however, I will not have you taunt me about it. You will be very happy to hear I will be leaving now. I find I cannot stand to be in your presence much longer.’
She walked over towards the window and lifted her small sword to hang it back up on the wall. Knowing that she was about to leave should have made him happy. And yet...
‘How is it that you know how to hold a sword such as that one?’ he asked, trying to understand even an insignificant thing about her.
She appeared somewhat startled by the change in conversation. ‘I took fencing lessons here years ago.’
‘Are you any good?’
‘I’ve been told I am.’
‘By whom?’
She raised her chin. ‘By Monsieur LeBatt, my fencing master.’
He hadn’t heard of the man, but he’d been out of the country most of his life. In all likelihood Monsieur LeBatt had given her the compliment to ensure she continued to pay him for his instruction.
Their eyes held for several heartbeats, neither one seeming in a hurry to look away. There was something between them. He could not name it, but he did know that whatever it was, it had not been settled yet, and in his gut he didn’t believe it had anything to do with the house.
‘I believe you put that sword away prematurely,’ he said, feeling the edges of his mouth curl up with the idea that popped into his head. He had a way to ensure that the issue of who got to live in Stonehaven was settled once and for all. He didn’t want her showing up on his doorstep to be a regular occurrence. The only question was, would Elizabeth, the Duchess of Skeffington, be up for the challenge?
Her brows furrowed. ‘I don’t understand. You do not wish me to return the sword to the wall?’
He walked over to her so they were only a few feet apart. Standing this close to her, he could make out faint freckles on her nose. He had never noticed them before. It must have been a play of the light. ‘I have a proposition for you.’
‘What kind of proposition?’ she asked with a dubious expression.
‘Fear not. I am not interested in your virtue.’
A flash of what might have been anger flickered in her large brown eyes, which didn’t make any sense. Did she want him to seduce her?
The waning sunlight bounced off the blade of the sword he held down against his side. ‘What do you say we make a wager for this house?’
Her expression changed to one of interest, although