The Duke's Guide to Correct Behavior by Megan Frampton Page B

with no thought for others.
    She had to remember her goals, and just what was at stake. Not just for her, but for her partners and all the women they’d helped in the past few months, and whom they hoped to help in the future. People who perhaps had been left behind by others who could have taken care of them—and didn’t.
    People who didn’t have a duke for a father, or her for a governess.
    She was on her way back up to Rose when she remembered—she had brought nothing with her, and she would be sleeping there tonight. That was certainly a risk, wasn’t it? “Where is the duke?” she asked a footman, who was carrying some
dirty glasses and what appeared to be a lady’s corset.
    She would not ask about that.
    The footman to whom she’d spoken gestured to one of the other doors. “In his study. But—”
    Lily didn’t wait for whatever he was about to say. She knocked twice on the door, just to give him a head start on not cavorting, then opened the door and stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
    He was not cavorting. He was—he was sitting in a massive chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, with a gigantic orange cat on his lap. Petting it.
    A cup of tea was placed on the side table next to him, and if it had been any other person sitting there, Lily would have thought it a sweet domestic scene.
    Especially since he was crooning in some secret cat language in a soft tone of voice, not at all the autocratic, arrogant duke who snapped orders.
    Only it was still him, with his attractive nose, and his sharply planed face, and the way he’d shown both kindness and autocracy, sometimes within minutes of each other, and how he’d made her blush, even if he likely wasn’t the least aware he’d made her blush. But there was definitely blushing.
    â€œYour Grace.” She swallowed, and could have sworn his eyes tracked the movement in her neck. Watching as she gathered the courage to ask him.
    â€œI assume that Rose is all right,” he said, “and that you are here to have a question answered that no one else in my household can possibly answer.”
His tone wasn’t entirely mocking, but Lily would have to put it at about seventy-five percent mockery. She didn’t want to even think about the other twenty-five percent.
    She felt her cheeks start to get warm. She wasn’t even in the Blushing Room.
    â€œYes, you see, I feel it is my responsibility to remain here, now that Rose is in my care, and yet I have realized I left all of my belongings, and I would ask if I might go retrieve them.”
    He frowned. The cat, no doubt nameless, seemed to sense his displeasure, since it leapt off his lap in what looked like a burst of orange fireworks. “Now? But it is getting toward dark, and you cannot go alone.”
    â€œPerhaps you might send a footman with me?”
    Please don’t let it be the grouchy footman. Unless that was the only kind he had. And then the grouchy footman would see where she lived, in not the most respectable of neighborhoods, and would report back to all the staff, and she would be unfortunate in an entirely new and different way. Wonderful.
    â€œUnless . . .” Dear Lord. She was really going to ask this.
    He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to speak.
    â€œUnless you knew of something that I might wear this evening? To bed? And then I could go gather my things tomorrow, first thing, after breakfast.”
    â€œSo not first thing at all,” he said in a sly tone of voice.
    She could not get distracted by the fact that this
was the second time in only a few hours that she and the duke had shared a joke. Even if thoughts of laughing together kindled something warm, low in her belly.
    â€œThat is, if one of your female staff would be able—”
    â€œI do not have any female staff.”
    â€œBut you do, a maid is watching Rose. If you would give me your permission to