In the throes of shock, Natalie gaped at the duke. His piercing gaze seemed to be gauging her reaction, and he looked every inch the despotic aristocrat. It dawned on her that after she’d left his family at midday in the drawing room, the duke, along with his cousins, must have dissected her character. And they had judged her to be capable of felonious conduct.

Bile rising in her throat, she took a step backward, bumping into the stone wall. “Don’t tell me you accept this nonsense, too! Why, Leo doesn’t even look like me.”

“That’s precisely what I told them. Godwin has summoned his solicitor from London to examine the boy’s papers, so the issue should be resolved shortly. And for pity’s sake, I never said that I believed it.” He closed the distance between them and grasped her hand, his fingers warm and firm around hers. “I’m on your side, Natalie. You can trust in me.”

Could she trust him? She’d be a fool to do so. No doubt the nobility closed ranks at a perceived threat and repelled any attempt to breach the walls of their exalted status. As one of the elite, the powerful Duke of Clayton would pledge his loyalty to them, not to her or to an orphaned boy.

Yet his touch on her skin caused a treacherous softening inside her. As did the throaty sound of her name on his lips. He oughtn’t address her with such familiarity, but she couldn’t bring herself to correct him. Not when she had the most absurd notion that he wanted to kiss her. Those deep gray eyes tempted her with all the allure of a wizard’s enchantment …

“Miss Fanshawe, Miss Fanshawe!”

Leo’s voice broke the spell. The thread of woefulness in his tone awakened her maternal instincts with a jolt. Whirling around, she spied his small form standing by the wall at the other end of the circular room. An unusually solemn look on his face, he beckoned to her.

Natalie’s first thought was alarm that he’d injured himself. There were a hundred ways he could have come to harm among these broken castoffs. And she had let herself be distracted by a handsome man.

She rushed to his side, weaving a path through the discards. “What is it, darling? Are you bleeding?”

His blue eyes like saucers, he shook his head, mutely pointing at a stack of framed paintings leaning against the wall. He had pulled the linen shroud off the first one. Since the canvas backing faced outward, Natalie turned the large, cumbersome picture around so that she could view whatever had disturbed him. And she sustained another jolt.

It was a life-sized portrait of his mother.

Seated on a gilt chair in the library, Audrey radiated a fresh, youthful beauty as she gazed into the distance with a dreamy expression on her patrician features. A cluster of pink rosebuds nestled in her blond curls, while a few tendrils of hair trailed along the slenderness of her neck. Against the fairness of her skin, a delicate string of pearls encircled her neck. An open book lay forgotten in the lap of her elegant white gown as if she’d stopped reading for a moment in order to contemplate a happy future.