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“The nurse is sitting by my door. She fell asleep, but she would awaken if I attempted to leave the room through the door. And people are walking in the corridor. I didn’t want to run into anyone. I don’t want this to be my official introduction to English society.”

William lifted one side of his mouth in a half-smile. “Don’t mind me, then. You can be off on your way.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want to breathe fresh air.” She let out a deep sigh. “And something to drink.”

William perked up. “That is something I can arrange. Wait here.”

She let out a snort and immediately covered her mouth and nose with his handkerchief. “Where would I go?”

William strode back into the house and took two glasses of warm ale from inside the parlor. Nobody paid him any heed, so he slid right back out.

He handed the lady her drink and leaned against the wall next to her. For some reason, he was drawn to this sick and rather disheveled young lady. He was certain she was beautiful, although at the moment she looked rather frightful. But it wasn’t her looks that he was attracted to.

She had a bold, rebellious spirit that he connected with. And it was incredibly refreshing to sense that about a young woman yet to make a society debut. She didn’t look young either, although he was certain she was. The look in her eyes was of a weathered soul, much like William’s. Although probably not as weathered—lucky for her.

But what he enjoyed about her most was her directness. It was probably due to her illness that she did not have the strength to perform the dance of politeness. Or perhaps it was the fact that she was a foreigner. Even aristocracy tended to be less cordial in countries other than England.

“Why are you here?” she asked after taking a few sips of her drink.

“Here at the house party?” he asked with a raised brow. Had she finally discerned that he didn’t belong? William could sometimes swear that he had bastard written across his forehead.

“No, here. Outside of the house party.”

“Oh.” William exhaled a breath of relief. For some reason, he didn’t want this woman to know his status as a bastard, didn’t want her to look down on him. Usually, he didn’t care. Odd, that. “They don’t like me much.”

She let out a chuckle that quickly turned into a fit of coughs. He held her drink for her as she tried to regain composure. “Why is that?”

“Well, I am not exactly fit to socialize with lords. See, I do not own any land, so they look down on me for that. I own horses, though, and they win at every race, so they envy me for that.”

He grinned, and the lady chuckled, relaxing in his company. “Besides, I speak my mind, I do not dance around the truth, and I do not stoop to lick their boots. In short, they don’t like me.”

The lady looked up at him as if trying to decipher something on his face. He supposed she could not see him clearly in the dark, nor could he see her. But she was probably feeling quite light-headed and weak due to her illness. “If you were a duke’s son, they would not look upon you that way,” she noted.

William directed a charming smile toward her. “But I am, in fact, a duke’s son.”

Her jaw dropped an inch, and she squinted at him more carefully.

“You are a marquess?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Unfortunately for me, I am not the first son. And not even the second. And thus I live in the shadows. But I vastly prefer it this way. No responsibilities weighing me down, no estates to look after. I am free to do as I please.” William decided to omit that he was a duke’s bastard son. But then, so were most of Kensington’s children.

“And yet you are here,” she pointed out.

He gave a low laugh. “And yet I am here. And for the first time in a long time, I do not regret it.”

He took her hand—her warmth traveled through his fingers, up his arm, and spread all over his body—and slowly brought it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles, his gaze never leaving her face.

She caught her breath, and her eyes widened, her pupils dilating. Something passed between them during that short kiss. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she breathed.

“Why not?” he whispered back. “Because it’s improper? Should I ask for your hand in marriage then?”

“I might be contagious,” she said rather seriously.

William barked a laugh. This was not what he imagined her saying at all.

She looked at him offendedly and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I appreciate your directness,” he said, still chuckling.