Page 8 of Down Bad with the Iron Duke

A bolt of heat shot down his spine. She was so sharp. It would make watching her melt all the sweeter.

“I don’t use my tongue for talking,” he murmured. “I think you’ll find you’ll come to appreciate that fact.” He kicked his mount into a quicker pace. It may have been over a decade since he’d been to Ironcrest, but the way to the tenant farms came back like it’d been yesterday. Everything did.

The good.

And the bad.

* * *

They approached a rolling field where blackened earth wove across the land in irregular, jagged swaths, patches of grey-white ash drifting upon the light breeze. The clang of hammers and the heavy thud of wood carried through the air. A group of men labored over fresh timber, raising the frame of a new barn. Whatever had once stood there was long gone, leaving behind only the scorched footprint of the fire that had consumed the first one.

“Good progress has already been made on rebuilding the barn, as you can see,” Miss Dawson said. “This is one of the two barns we lost.”

Rafe studied the area. Besides the one plot where the men worked, there was a small cottage in the distance. “Where was the other barn?”

“It butted up to a different plot, Your Grace.”

He turned sharply toward Miss Dawson. “What did you report was the cause of the fires?”

Miss Dawson shifted, drawing Rafe’s gaze to her tight-fitting trousers. She was nothing like the women Rafe typically preferred. All legs. Lacking the curves he loved.

“I didn’t, Your Grace.”

He lifted his gaze to meet hers.

“It appears the fires started in the barns, but there was such extensive damage it’s impossible to know the exact cause.”

“Two fires. Starting in two different barns. Barns not close to each other.” He winged a brow. Unlikely.

“Yes, it was quite the coincidence.” She watched him carefully. “Eerily so.”

“You don’t believe that.”

Miss Dawson shook her head. “I don’t. But that’s the problem with fire. It destroys everything, evidence and all.” She started for the barn. “I’ll show you the new dwelling and the remnants of the damage.”

Rafe meandered behind her. She walked with confidence, yet grace. He cursed the bloody frock coat concealing her figure. He could only imagine what those trousers did to her arse. He hadn’t ever thought he’d have a proclivity for women in trousers, but that had obviously been a major oversight.

“Dawson!” one of the workers called out.

She lifted a hand in greeting. “Fredericks. Progress is looking quite nice.”

Curious. The other workers greeted her similarly. No one blinked twice at the woman in trousers. And then the stares fell on him. Widening eyes. Slackening jaws.

The elusive Duke had finally made an appearance.

He fell into step with her, and they entered the structure. The walls had been framed. Workers were busy bringing in boards and attaching planks to form the outer walls; others worked overhead on the roof frame. His attention fell to the floor. Blackened earth mixed with fresh soil, puffs of soot and dirt materializing with each footstep.

“They address you as though you’re a man,” he murmured.

Her gaze slid to his quickly before back to straight ahead. “They give me the respect of a man.”

He and Miss Dawson halted in the center of the structure. The charred earth extended far outside the current footprint of the barn, out what appeared to be the rear of the dwelling and toward the fields.

“Is this the same foundation as the prior barn?”

“Yes.” She followed his gaze. “The fire spread to the field quickly, almost immediately. According to reports from the tenants, the wind was blowing south that day, which carried the blaze directly to the pastureland.”

“Have you brought in anyone to investigate?”