Page 14 of A Torn Allegiance
Confused, he studied her face. “Other matters? No.”
“I remember your brother came seeking help from the navy.”
“Oh yes. I come bearing gifts for the admiral and to offer our deepest gratitude.” He did not wish to talk of the rumors of infidelity in his country, of those considering allying themselves with Napoleon.
She nodded and said no more on the subject. “Shall we return? I think breakfast will be ready for us by now.”
“Of course.”
They returned without much else to say. Their easy and open rapport seemed to have dissipated. He attempted several topics of conversation, but her mind appeared to be elsewhere.
When they were almost at the front door, she murmured, “I forgot to warn you. The Clearance is not a friendly topic at our table.”
“Understood.”
The butler opened the door. “Welcome home, Lady Elsie, Your Highness. They are waiting for you in the breakfast room.”
“Thank you, Timson.”
Her gratitude to her servants came naturally. The subtle caring she showed them impressed Hayes further.
They entered her home, he directly after her, but as he handed his things to the butler and expected to offer her his arm, she merely nodded and hurried up the stairs.
“This way, Your Highness.” Timson indicated that Hayes enter the first door on the right, and Hayes followed, bewildered by Lady Elsie’s rapid change in demeanor and her hasty departure.
While his own interest in her was growing, she appeared to be keeping him at a distance.
Chapter Five
Lady Elsie hurried all theway to her bedchamber and closed the door behind her. She could not account for her intense emotions, and she needed to get every one of them under control before she returned to eat breakfast with Prince Hayes.
The Lowlands. Scotland. The Clearances. Of course she’d had to start talking about the Scottish tenants, with a man she hardly knew. That had been her first mistake. But he’d seemed intently interested. And he had his own troubles in his country. But how could she behave in a calm and rational manner once all the indignation about Scotland had risen up inside her? Normally she kept herself bottled up like her governess had always insisted, but when he’d laughed at her jest about the London Season in that certain way of his—his smile had reached her down to her toes—all the while his eyes beaming at her to show he was hearing, listening intently, to her Scottish woes, she’d had to leave his presence as soon as possible. That was the only way of it. Her choices at the time had seemed limited to leaving or throwing herself at his feet in an odd worship. She laughed. She must stop these strange reactions she was having to this man; her father suspected him of some wrong, and he was a perfect stranger after all.
Though, he cared so deeply for his land and people, as deeply as she did for hers. And the way he’d watched her. She’d seen respect in his eyes. When had that ever happened? Respect in the eyes of a man of theton? Admiration perhaps, desire, interest, but never respect. And he’d asked her questions, valued her opinion. She was under the impression he might seek for more of her insights, and perhaps even act on them.
She scoffed. But then he’d openly admitted he was interested in the Season, that he wouldn’t mind finding a wife. Open as day, he’d spoken the words to her face as if she were inconsequential in that search.
And she was, wasn’t she? She didn’t want to be of consequence in his search for a woman to court. Did she?
She leaned her back against the door, seeking the coolness of the wood through her dress, but it came slowly. Everything seemed heated, from her toes to the top of her head. She feared her cheeks were aflame.
The washbasin. She rushed to it and splashed water on her face, using the clean towel to dab herself dry. But the mirror showed a flushed, bright-eyed debutante.
Oh, this would not do. She paced back and forth, which of course did nothing to lessen the redness in her face. She had never reacted to a man in this manner.
A knock on her door startled her into an almost yelp. “Oh, heavens.” She ran her hands down the front of her skirt. “What is it?”
“Beggin’ your pardon, my lady, but His Grace has asked for you at breakfast.”
“Certainly. I’ll be right down.”
“Very good, my lady.”
She breathed slowly two times and then, with nothing else to detain her, made her way down the stairs, through the morning room and the music room, and back toward the room where her parents were eating breakfast with Prince Hayes.
The two footmen glanced her way, but she merely nodded.
They opened the doors, and one announced, “Lady Elsie.”
