Page 35 of Kathryn

“So, if there aren’t two identical paintings, then nothing?”

“No, no. They do not need to be identical, but—” She broke off and chewed her lip. “I believe His Grace does not wish for more items on the walls given that there are already so many books.”

“There is not much art in the hallway and there are no books out there.”

Mrs. Kent looked flustered. “I, er—”

“Never mind,” Katie said, feeling like a bully for interrogating the poor woman.

Mrs. Kent’s forehead was deeply furrowed, as if she was worried that she’d said something wrong.

Katie wanted to reassure her but discovered she had no reassurance to spare. What on earth had she gotten herself into?

“You may continue the tour, Mrs. Kent,” Katie said, needing to get out of the room, not that the stark corridors would be any better.

Once they’d left the library, Mrs. Kent led Katie back the same way they’d come—or at least she tried to.

“Where does that lead?” Katie pointed to the only set of double doors the housekeeper had not opened.

“That is His Grace’s study.”

Katie suddenly had a burning, irresistible desire to see what her husband’s personal sanctuary looked like.

“Oh, you mustn’t, Your Grace,” Mrs. Kent cried, trotting after Katie. “His Grace does not care for—”

Katie ignored her and briefly knocked on the door before opening it and stepping into a dark-paneled room.

Dulverton sat at a desk that looked to be in the center of the room—and likely was in the exact center based on what she had just learned from Mrs. Kent.

He shot to his feet, his eyebrows drawing low over his pale eyes, which immediately slid toward the housekeeper. “Is something—”

“Do not scold Mrs. Kent,” Katie said in a breezier tone than she was feeling. “She tried to stop me from entering but I was curious. What are those?” she asked and strode toward the longest wall of the study which had four large sash windows—equidistant—with sections of wall between each. There were dozens of identically sized and spaced shadow boxes mounted on the walls. She peered into the boxes, which were about two inches square. Each box held a tiny fossil and there was little variation between them. Indeed, some looked identical to others.

“Why do you have so many that are all the same?” she asked, reaching the end of one row, and starting on the one beneath it.

“They are not all the same.” Dulverton’s voice came from right beside Katie and she flinched. He certainly moved like a cat.

She turned to him and smiled up into his heavy-lidded eyes. “They look all the same to me.”

“Did you need something, Your Grace?” he asked coolly.

“No, I didn’t need anything. I was just taking the tour.” She cocked her head. “Am I not permitted to come in here… Gerrit?” She’d seen his Christian name for the first time today, on the register.

His jaws worked and his nostrils flared, but he didn’t speak.

“You look displeased, Your Grace. Am I not supposed to use your name, either?”

He turned slowly, until he was facing Mrs. Kent, whose jaw was sagging so low it was in danger of falling off.

“I will complete the tour, Mrs. Kent. You may go.”

The woman’s mouth snapped shut and she dropped a curtsey. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Only when they were alone did Dulverton turn back to her, meeting her gaze with eyes that were not dead and cold, but blazed like white fire. “You do not like to do what is expected, do you?”

His question startled a laugh out of her. “I could say the same thing about you—I certainly didn’t expect that question.”

“This is my private domain,” he said coldly, unmoved by her gentle raillery. “There is no reason for you to be in here.”