“He hurt you. If I had been here then… I would tear him apart with my bare hands if he were still here, Maggie. Believe that.”
She trembled, then nodded slowly. “I… do.”
The duke nodded. “Good.”
Abruptly his face changed. An expression of shock came over him. She looked around the room, confused, then realized he had glanced down at her gown. And in that moment, Maggie realized she had let go of the robe. It hung open, revealing the plane nightdress beneath. Which would not have been so terrible had it not been so thin, so pale white, so clinging. It clung to every curve.
She clutched the robe, pulling it closed quickly, but she knew it was too late.
“Good God, Maggie,” the duke said, hoarsely. “Tell me you are not…”
He met her eyes. “Tell me I am being foolish. I am a man. I know little of such things. I am sorry to have even dared to look at you in such a way. I must be mistaken. But…Tell me, truly, am I mistaken?”
Maggie’s throat was dry. She felt frozen in place. Unable to even shake her head, though she wished to.
Then he took a step forward, towards her, and she let out a little cry—her arms raising protectively, instinctively.”