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This time, the smile was unmistakable.

“I believe His Grace would be pleased to hear that you find the house imposing.”

“Then perhaps you had better not tell him. He is already insufferably pleased with himself.”

Mr. Ernest lowered his head, but not before she caught the faintest movement at the corners of his mouth.

Marina liked him immediately.

He offered to have her cloak taken, and she followed him through the entrance hall, where the warmth of the house came as a welcome relief after the bitter air outside. The hall was vast, its polished floor reflecting the glow of lamps set along the walls. Portraits watched from their gilded frames, and an enormous staircase rose toward a gallery that disappeared into shadow.

It was not the darkness that unsettled her. The house was comfortably lit, with candles and lamps providing a soft golden glow. Rather, it was the extraordinary stillness. There were no voices drifting from adjoining rooms, no music, and none of the cheerful disorder that Marina associated with a home preparing for Christmas.

At Netherton, Harper’s household would already have been in a state of delighted confusion, with greenery arriving from the gardens and servants hurrying about with ribbons and candles. Here, the halls seemed to be waiting for something.

Or someone.

“How long have you served His Grace?” she asked as they walked.

“Since he was a boy, my lady.”

“Then you must know him very well.”

“I have had the privilege of knowing him for many years.”

It was a careful answer, and Marina recognized the loyalty beneath it.

“He is a rather unusual gentleman,” she ventured.

Mr. Ernest glanced at her. “His Grace has not always found the world particularly welcoming.”

The simple observation carried more weight than she expected. Marina thought of the duke standing in her cottage, his enormous hat casting a shadow over his face, and of the brief changes in his expression whenever she had spoken of the rumors surrounding them both.

“No,” she said quietly. “I imagine he has not.”

They passed a long window concealed behind heavy curtains. Marina understood why the coverings were necessary, but the sight of them stirred an unexpected sadness. The duke had spoken of sunlight as an enemy. She wondered what it must be like to regard the ordinary brightness of a winter morning as something to be feared.

She was still considering it when a faint sound reached her from somewhere above.

A baby’s cry.

Marina stopped.

“Is that Emma?”

Mr. Ernest’s expression softened at once. “Yes, my lady. Her nurse will be attending to her.”

The cry came again, small and indignant, and Marina felt an immediate impulse to follow it.

“Poor little darling,” she murmured.

The butler watched her for a moment. “You shall meet her shortly, I believe.”

“I hope so.” Marina glanced toward the staircase before catching herself. “Forgive me. I ought not to go charging through an unfamiliar house in pursuit of a child who does not know me.”

“I do not believe anyone would take offense at your concern, my lady.”

His reply was so gentle that she looked at him again. There was no suggestion of flattery in his manner, only a quiet kindness that made the manor seem a little less forbidding.