Page 28 of A Duke Changes Everything
“You should consider meeting them,” she told the duke, trying for a tone of suggestion rather than command.
“Did you hear nothing I said? We have work to do. I’ve no interest in small talk with village wag tongues. Go, Wilder.”
“But if you refuse them, it will cause grave offense. That village wag tongue, as you call her, will speak ill of you to all her friends—”
“Do you think I care what some country squire’s wife has to say about me?”
“You will if she turns the whole village against Enderley. They’ll all march on our doorstep.” Mina stepped closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “Charm her with this single visit and she’ll go away happy and never trouble you again. Snub her and she’ll find a way to make you pay.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, then glowered at her.
“Did you expect to come here and never once have to play duke?”
“All right,” he said on an irritated huff and shot up from the sofa to stand toe to toe with her.
Mina offered him a smile, the way she would a recalcitrant child who’d finally consented to eat his beets. “Show her to the green drawing room, Wilder. I’ll ring for tea.”
The duke started toward the door but turned back when she stepped behind her desk. “Oh no, you don’t, Miss Thorne. You’re coming too.”
“That’s nonsensical. No duke requires his steward to accompany him while entertaining guests.”
He smirked, clearly unmoved by her argument. “I did say there would be new rules. You know these women. I don’t. I take your point about kindness paid to them. Perhaps it will serve to salve the villagers when the estate is let to a stranger.” He held out his hand to her. “Now, since I’m taking your advice, you will accompany me.”
Mina hesitated as she stared at his outstretched hand.
In a lower voice, through clenched teeth, he added, “Please.”
Chapter Eight
The two female visitors in their pastel gowns—one pale pink and the other paler blue—blended perfectly with the faded decor of the drawing room. The once hunter-green wallpaper had been leeched of color over time and was now a wan pea shade.
Miss Thorne receded to the back of the room after introductions.
Nick wished he could be so lucky.
“Lady Claxton, Lady Lillian, so good of you to call.” Nick heard the stiffness in his tone and felt tension echo in every muscle of his body. He had no experience making polite conversation with ladies.
Formidably statuesque, the marchioness stood only a few inches shorter than his six and some feet. She lifted a pair of spectacles hanging on a beaded chain around her neck to inspect him. Beginning with his boots, she inched up until her magnified gaze snagged on his face. The scar always drew women’s notice eventually, like a freakish magnet.
Most recoiled. Lady Claxton did not.
“But for that single green eye, you’re the very image of your father.”
“So I’ve been told.” Nick didn’t smile.
No compliment had been intended. The lady’s thin lips puckered in a disapproving frown, as if she’d taken too much lemon in her tea. Apparently, he’d failed whatever test she meant to put him to.
He spared a glance at Miss Thorne, who’d seated herself on a stiff-backed settee in a shadowy corner, clever enough to avoid the old dragon’s further notice. Apparently, she wasn’t at all interested in saving him from the unpleasantness of the noble ladies’ visit.
“What can I do for you, Lady Claxton?” Some quick, meaningless favor, Nick hoped. He wasn’t interested in passing anyone’s test.
“For me, Your Grace? No, no, I’ve come to assist you. First, let me say how good it is to find you at home. Enderley Castle is too grand, too essential to the good of the village to stand empty long.”
“I promise I’ll do my best to never leave Enderley unoccupied.” He glanced again at Miss Thorne, but she was studying her hands as if a particularly intriguing novel had been tattooed on her skin.
“We shall hold you to that promise, Duke.” The granddaughter, Lady Lillian Portman, spoke with such a smoky huskiness to her voice that a shiver of dread worked its way up Nick’s spine.
She was a fetching feminine specimen. Auburn haired, blue eyed, and amply curved in all the best places. Even his scarred face didn’t seem to put her off. When he glanced at her, she licked her lips. Slowly.
