Flora stared at him. The title Duke of Ford was famous throughout the city. He was known as a war hero, a man of strict honor. And the way his voice softened with pure devotion when he spoke of the young woman was undeniable.
Slowly, the tense, frightened lines of Flora's face began to relax. Her hands stopped twisting the fabric of her skirt.
Flora nodded her head, a small, jerky movement of surrender.
Rowan smiled. It was a genuine, deeply grateful smile.
"Thank you," Rowan said softly. He gestured toward the velvet sofa. "Please, sit down. You have nothing to fear in this house."
Flora slowly lowered herself back onto the edge of the sofa. Rowan walked to a matching armchair sitting opposite her and sat down. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, putting himself on her level so he did not tower over her.
Flora looked down at her worn boots for a moment, gathering her courage. Then, she looked up and met his eyes.
