Page 12 of Her Duke in Shining Armor
Moreover, why did she have to be so matter-of-fact and skeptical? For such a young lady those lines of cynicism should not have already started to embed themselves at the corners of her mouth. For God’s sake, the lady was nine-and-ten, not ninety-and-nine!
Huffing, Aaron strode over to the nearest window and looked out in the dark. A thick grey soup of fog hovered over the shadowed trees and its snake-like tendrils dipped to the bushes. The moon was a blurry disk, illuminating the clouds with a ghostly sheen.
His conscience was hounding him. He had to do something to stop this unresolved issue from festering. She had a right to be angry with him anyway, which young lady would shine with pleasure after being told she was a tomboy?
“I should have chosen my words differently,” Aaron mused while moving away from the window.It’s not like I spotted a pair of breeches under her skirts.
He paused for a moment and chuckled at the mental image, “But with her directness, that wouldn’t have surprised me.”
Heading off to his bedchamber Aaron vowed to right his wrong as soon as possible and hoped that when he did, she would believe him.
* * *
Receiving Lord Greenville was a lot less daunting than Eleanor had expected. Eleanor did not waste her energy wondering how her father had known about Lord Greenville, as clearly he had spies tracking her movements at the Greyson affair.
As she watched the nondescript brown carriage pull up to the gate, she turned away wordlessly. Her deep Prussian blue promenade dress, a fitting match for her eyes, clung lovingly to her slender figure as she descended the stairway.
Mr. Ambrose was opening the door just as her father, who had arrived that morning, came into the foyer. Dressed in menacing dark colors and a wine-red waistcoat, her father stood like a towering monolith in the room. With his height brushing six foot and five, he was naturally imposing but his stern features and dark navy eyes enhanced it.
Without a word, she stood to the left of him and waited until Lord Greenville was relieved of his outer coat and hat.
“Your Grace and Lady Eleanor, Lord Greenville,” Mr. Ambrose pronounced soberly.
Eleanor curtsied while her father went to shake his hand. “Welcome, Greenville.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Greenville heartily shook the older man’s hand and then bowed. “Lady Eleanor, how wonderful to see you again.”
“And I, you, my lord,” her smile was simple.
“Let us remove to the sitting room until dinner is announced,” the Duke of Brisdane’s words were more an order than a request and Eleanor followed the two men silently.
The large sitting room, the same room she and Miss Malcolm had entertained Lord Greenville days ago suddenly seemed small to her. It felt as if the air had been sucked out or, somehow, the room had shrunk. Perhaps it was the dominant and suffocating presence her father exuded. He filled up the room with his air of tight control.
“Lord Greenville,” her father spoke. “If I am not mistaken, your father was the late Marquise of Tremont, aye?”
“Actually, Your Grace, he was my guardian and benefactor as I am his nephew, not his son,” Greenville corrected respectfully. “My cousin died of consumption when he was one-and-ten and the marquise took me in.”
Eleanor peered at her father under her lashes. Her father always had correct information about anyone he was interacting with. Was he deliberately misleading the man? From the glimmer in his eye she knew her father was toying with Greenville, but why? Was he trying to trap the man with his own words?
“Ah, yes,” her father conceded with fake contrite. “My mistake. He was a trader in the East, no? With a line of ships that traded spices, furs, and other curious bric-a-brac?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Greenville added with a fleeting look of sorrow. “He sent me to Oxford and to honor his name and legacy I have expanded his business to the colonies. Before he died, he had made ties with the Governors of Jamaica and Nassau in the Indies. I made sure to follow those through.”
“Imports of sugar and coffee?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Impressive,” her father nodded sagely. “Smart move for a young man.”
Eleanor grew sickened with every passing moment. Her father had his genial mask on, and she itched to reach over, dig her fingers in the façade and rip it off. Would this charade just end already? The worst thing was that Lord Greenville was falling for it. The younger man had metaphorical stars in his eyes while conversing with the Duke.
“Ahem,” Mr. Ambrose delicately cut in. “My apologies for the disturbance, Your Grace, but His Grace, the Duke of Oberton is here to see Lady Eleanor. He says it is urgent.”
The Duke! What in the name of God was he doing? This was the worst possible time for him to make an appearance and seeing the dark glower on her father’s face, fear ran down Eleanor’s spine.
Chapter 4
I’ve got to admit,Aaron mused while admiring the checkered marble floor of the foyer and the glittering chandelier overheadthis is a lesson in decadent taste.
