Silver could also be melted down and recast for myriad purposes, though in all of creation there was only one Eleanora Hatfield. “You need to depart this office for your bed, madam. I’ll light you to your room.” Rex stood and offered her his hand.

“Coming out here was a fine idea, Elsmore,” she said, grasping his fingers and rising. “I’d forgotten how much more clearly one thinks when breathing fresh country air. How the mind settles when nature is always in sight just beyond the window.”

She’d known that once. When and what had obscured the knowledge?

“I love it here,” Rex said, a prosaic admission, also a confidence. “I love the quiet and the privacy. I can ramble in my woods for an entire afternoon with no company but a curious rabbit or a lazy pheasant.”

He took up a carrying candle and led her through the chilly corridors. No wind set the old house to creaking or groaning, no footman stayed awake anticipating a late night summons. Ambledown was a functioning estate, not a duke’s elegant showpiece.

“Your affection for this property is evident,” Eleanora said as they mounted the steps. “But I suspect all of your holdings are well maintained. Do you visit them regularly?”

“I either visit or I send a cousin to show the colors.” He paused outside her room. “I might not find another time to say this, so I will say it now: Thank you.” Gratitude was not all he wanted to express to her, but it seemed a good place to start.

“I’m merely performing a service, Your Grace, one I enjoy providing.”

Your Grace. His thanks apparently embarrassed her. Rex opened her bedroom door, letting a warm draft into the corridor.

“I’ll light your candles,” he said, gesturing her to precede him into her sitting room. “You are doing more than performing a service, Eleanora. You allow me to raise difficult questions with absolute faith that my confidences will not be betrayed. You take my interests to heart. You instruct me on matters nobody has seen fit to include in my ducal education. I am indebted to you.”

He was also attracted to her, and not in the casual sense he was attracted to any comely female. He liked watching her mind work. He liked arguing with her. He liked hearing the click of the abacus beads because she moved them around with the brisk speed of a sharpshooter wielding a favorite weapon.

She closed the door, plunging the room into deep gloom.

“Somebody kept my fires built up,” she said. “You cannot imagine what a luxury that is for me.”

She wore a plain wool shawl when he wanted to wrap her in cashmere and silk. Her bun was drooping, and he yearned to unravel the lot and learn how long her hair was, learn the feel of it in his hands.

He wanted…her. To cherish, explore, appreciate, and indulge.