That was the manner of man Val was, though. Oh, he might be snarling and snapping and angry, but he’d also proven himself honorable; he’d come and tended her fires and been sure she had food, even as he’d been so very clearly annoyed by her intrusion on his life.

Footfalls echoed outside his offices, and she glanced over, and a moment later, there came a brief scratching.

“Enter,” she called, already knowing that the owner of that respectful rapping was not the one she truly wished to see.

The door opened, and the greying servant entered. In his arms he carried forth a silver tray filled with a teapot and a lone cup, and there was something forlorn about that single porcelain cup, an unnecessary but loud reminder that she was alone.

“Miss,” Jenkins greeted as he approached, and Myrtle sat up. “His Grace instructed I bring tea and biscuits. To fortify you.” He added that latter part, clearly three words which he’d heard his master speak and in turn repeated.

“Thank you,” she murmured, touched by that thoughtfulness. Her heart lifted, then promptly fell. “That was very kind of His Grace.”

You are making more of it than there truly is. He sent tea. It was the most English thing a lady or gentleman could do . . .

Disappointment swirled in her breast, and she made a show of taking the cup he set down and devoted all her attention to making herself tea.

All the while, she felt Jenkins’s eyes upon her.

She looked up.

“He is,” the older servant murmured. “That is, very kind.”

She expected him to leave, only he lingered, seeming to consider his words, and her curiosity piqued, a welcome sentiment that kept her from wallowing in self-pity at having fallen in love with the one man who could never love her in return. “Is there something you wish to say?” she asked gently, encouraging him to speak his mind.

Jenkins looked her squarely in the eyes. “There are many rumors that surround His Grace. Unkind ones, cruel stories about the duke, and—”

“I am very much aware that His Grace is a good man,” she interjected gently. Her gaze slipped beyond the butler’s shoulder, as in her mind she saw Val as he’d been these past days. “Yes, he is gruff and surly, but I suspect those are just facades he’s donned to protect himself. He’s only proven honorable and kind and—”

Aware of how much she’d revealed to his servant, and how much more she’d been about to reveal, she made herself go quiet. Clearing her throat, Myrtle took a sip of her tea. After all, she was still an unmarried lady, alone in London. Acknowledging aloud to anyone the time she’d spent alone with Val which had allowed her to learn those intimate details about him threatened her reputation before she’d even had her first official Season.