“Bah, I could never give up everything as Audrey did. Besides, I don’t even want to think about marriage just yet.”

They emerged from the trees and strolled toward the stables that were situated a short distance from the fortresslike house. Despite the brevity of their acquaintance, Natalie felt a glimmer of sisterly sympathy for Lady Ellen. How sad it must be for her to know that society viewed her as a prize mare to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. “Well, it seems to me you’re rather young to make any hasty commitment.”

“That’s what I told Mama, but she insists that I lure His Grace into making me an offer. She even made me go on a ride with him this morning.” Lady Ellen wrinkled her pert nose. “She doesn’t care that the duke is old and stodgy. Or that I never know what to say to him.”

Natalie frowned. “I assumed by now he’d have charmed you into accepting his courtship.”

“Charmed? Why, he isn’t romantic in the least. Can you imagine him writing poetry to me? How absurd!” The girl’s eyes abruptly rounded, and a whimper escaped her rosy lips. “Oh no, there he is! Pray pardon me, Miss Fanshawe. I must dash away before he spots me!”

Picking up her skirts, Lady Ellen scampered off, making a beeline for a patch of rhododendrons alongside the garden wall. The girl crouched down so that her bonnet dipped below the thick shrubbery while she crept toward a side door of the house.

Natalie was hard-pressed not to laugh at the spectacle.

A moment later, the duke came striding through the rear garden. He was a sight to behold in a midnight-blue coat that fit his wide shoulders to perfection. A snowy white cravat adorned his throat, and a pair of polished black boots and buff breeches accentuated his long, powerful legs. He appeared as faultlessly turned out as if he’d stepped straight out of an exclusive tailor’s shop, having purchased the most expensive attire available.

Old and stodgy were the last words Natalie would use to describe the Duke of Clayton. The mere sight of him took her breath away—even though he might well be as unreliable as the rest of his family. She would not quickly forget what had happened in the tower room, when he’d asked Leo if he recognized the woman in the portrait. As if a six-year-old boy could be convinced to lie about the identity of his own mother!

Leo. She still had to find him.

Ignoring the duke, who had veered in her direction, Natalie cut across the lawn at a right angle away from his path. The red roofs of the stable buildings appeared through a stand of elms. She had not quite reached her destination when he caught up to her, matching his stride to hers.

“Miss Fanshawe. Is there a reason why you’re running away from me?”

Every fiber of her being quivered as she glanced up to see a smirk resting on his mouth. The breeze blew a lock of brown hair onto his brow and lent him an endearing handsomeness. She ought not feel such a foolish attraction to a man who personified the very nobility that she opposed. “I’m not running, sir, but attending to my duties. Not all of us have the leisure to do as we please.”