Page 51 of The Heiress Gets a Duke
Not to be left out of the conversation, Papa said, “Never to worry, Your Grace, Maxwell and I keep her in line when she becomes too generous with the help. August is not so foolish as to not listen to those who know better.”
Her face flamed in both anger and embarrassment. He was doing everything he could to boast of her business acumen with a wink and a nudge that assured everyone not to worry that she was still perfectly domesticated. “I am not some wayward puppy that you must keep in check. I do understand financial constraints and measurements.”
Papa laughed. Whether he was putting a good face on things for Her Grace or he did not understand her pique was impossible to say. The duchess ignored him and viewed August with an appraising eye. “August is an unusual name.”
Momentarily taken aback at the change in topic, it took a moment for her to answer. “My grandfather was Augustus, and I was named for him.”
She nodded as if she had expected as much. “You do him proud, I think.”
Warmed more than she had anticipated by the kind words, she said, “Thank you. I enjoy that I am making a difference in a venture our grandfather started with his own hands.”
“Yes, I imagine you would.”
The woman went back to her eel and then turned her attention to her daughters, which was just as well, because August was still rattled by the exchange with her father. Had he always been insidious with his enthusiasm of her accomplishments and she simply hadn’t noticed? Had he always seen her as a child he would humor until it was time to marry her off? If so, how had she been so blind to it before?
Sneaking a glance down the table, she was not at all surprised to find Rothschild engaged in conversation with her mother and Violet. Mother was relating some childhood mishap, and Rothschild laughed when he was supposed to, but his gaze found hers across the table. As if sensing her unease, a crease formed between his brows, and he glanced to his mother before fixing his attention back on her. As the laughter died down, he turned his attention to his sisters and his voice rose to encompass the table. “I am sorry to say, but these two can outshine any mischief your children might have made. Did Mother tell you of the time they locked their governess in the very attic they had convinced her was haunted?”
“No!”
“Evan!”
The twins simultaneously cried out, sending the table into laughter. His concern felt genuine, as did the way he tried to turn the flow of conversation away from her and her family. She appreciated the gesture and felt herself softening toward him again. When he glanced back at her, she inclined her head in appreciation, and he grinned, making her heart pick up its pace the tiniest bit. The rest of dinner carried on in that same vein.
No one mentioned marriage orfortunes.
Chapter 15
No man ever became great or good except through many and great mistakes.
William Gladstone
The next morning, Evan took the family on a tour of the estate grounds. It had been one of the singularly most unpleasant experiences of his life, akin to baring the ugliest parts of his soul to strangers. Strangers who made a fuss about how quaint and charming it all seemed, the rural and very real decay that decorated their country jaunt.
All Evan could see was evidence of his failure.
When the tour had concluded, he had likely not so graciously bade the Crenshaws a good day while ushering August to the stables. There was more she was entitled to see before making her decision, but he refused to allow her parents the opportunity to come along. Now they were slowly riding their mounts down the drive to a row of nearby tenant farms. August had barely said a word, but she kept glancing at him. He was too ashamed of the mess his father had left and his own inability to clean it up to ask her what she thought so far.
“Do you ride very often?” she finally asked, breaking their self-imposed silence.
“Yes, as much as I can in London. Usually, every morning. You?”
“I have a horse at home, Poppy. She’s a beautiful palomino. I ride her as often as I get the chance.”
He glanced at her, taking in the easy way she settled into the saddle and moved with the animal. She had a natural grace about her. It pleased him to see her easy manner with horses. He could hardly imagine having a wife who did not enjoy riding. Once more, he was gripped by an urgency to seal this deal. She was nearly perfect for him in every way. Only, more and more, guilt followed on the heels of that urgency. She had an entire life he was taking her away from.
She caught him looking and gave him a smile. “Shall we race?”
“It would hardly be fair. You are sidesaddle.”
A line formed between her brows. “Then give me a head start.”
He laughed. “You are the last person I would believe would ask for a concession.”
“Concessions are needed, dear sir, when the very fabric of the rule is inherently unfair. Change the rule and I wouldn’t need one.” She clicked her tongue and snapped the reins before he could respond, and she was off racing down the road. “First one to the gate wins!”
His bay perked up his ears and took very little prodding before giving chase. Even sidesaddle, she was fast. His heart pounded as he started closing the distance between them. Her hat appeared very near to falling off her head, and he loved that she didn’t care. When she glanced over her shoulder, she appeared much more concerned with winning. In the end, they pulled up to the open gate at the same time before coming to a slow stop to allow the horses to catch their breaths. “You are a very good rider,” he said.
“I love horses.”
