Michael ached to punch someone, and the duke would do. He shook himself free of the guards.
“Don’t be a fool,” the duke said, but he held up a hand to still his men.
“Why not?”
“You’re a free man now. That could change.”
“I’m not exactly free,” Michael said. “How long do you intend to hold me?”
“Until I hear their carriage go.”
Not long at all. With effort, Michael relaxed his fists.
“She’ll be back tomorrow,” the duke said. “And if you’re concerned for her safety, you don’t know her as well as you might. She’s disabled more men in my regiments than I’d care to admit. Not carrying a pistol doesn’t make her innocuous.”
Michael took this in with as much dispassion as he could muster.
The duke frowned. “Are you concerned for her safety?”
“No. You’re right. She knows how to take care of herself quite well.”
“Good. And do I have your word you’ll leave them alone? As I said, she’ll return tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
The duke returned to the window. “They’re leaving.” He inclined his head toward the door, as if a mere bend of his noble head was all Michael needed to leave. “I don’t know what part you’re playing in all this,” he said, “but the best thing you can do for her is to find the man with the letter.”
Michael nodded. “Until then?”
“Aye. Until then. You know where to find me.”
Michael gave him the courtliest bow he possessed.