Page 16 of Her Duke in Shining Armor
“Yes, Your Grace,” the butler’s eyebrows were raised. “An astute perception, if I may say so myself.”
“Where is she?” he asked.
“The drawing room, Your Grace,” the butler added. “May I escort you there?”
Aaron’s first impulse was to tell the man to not bother and that he could follow his ears and find the way, but he was not going to disrespect the man and walk through it unattended.
“I wouldn’t mind.”
“This way, Your Grace.”
Down a runner-covered floor and a golden wood-paneled hallway, Aaron was led to a doorway and there he stopped. The butler was about to announce him, but he shook his head quietly.
“I will summon her chaperone,” he said while turning away.
Aaron stood there and allowed the music to wrap itself around him. Lady Eleanor sat at the pianoforte with her head canted away from him while her fingers ran effortlessly over the keys.
The light from the window gave her dark red hair a burnished gold sheen. The flawless ivory of her skin offset the dark brown wall behind her. Her face—what he could see of it—was placid but the line of her shoulders told him otherwise.
She began a crescendo and the fluidity of her fingers over the keys sent shockwaves through him. The music was so powerful and commanding and opened his eyes to see another layer to Lady Eleanor.
“She’s remarkable, isn’t she?”
Aaron’s eyes shifted to Miss Malcolm who was standing by his side and not choosing to answer the question—it was probably a rhetorical question anyway—continued to look on.
“I know you’re both there,” Lady Eleanor said drolly while not moving her hands from the keys. “Will you please come in?”
Amusement lit Aaron’s chest. “Miss Malcolm, please.”
The chaperone stepped inside and curtseyed even though Eleanor’s eyes were on her keys. “Welcome to my home, but I must ask, why are you here, Your Grace?”
“Like I said the other day,” Aaron replied. “I must apologize.”
A soft riff ran through the room, “I accept.”
“But you do not know what I am apologizing for,” Aaron asked as he neared the musical instrument.
“Does it matter?”
Leaning a hip on the side of the instrument he replied, “Yes, it does to me.”
She kept playing but the notes stalled and then eventually died. “Miss Malcolm, can you get us some refreshments, please?”
“My Lady—”
“I know Miss Malcolm, we can send a maid,” Lady Eleanor said while closing the lid of the instrument. “But I’d like a moment with His Grace. Never fear, he will not do anything untoward to me. He has much more honor than that. Isn’t that right, Your Grace?”
“She is right,” Aaron agreed wryly while carefully watching Lady Eleanor’s movements. “I just need a moment.”
The chaperone’s expression was deeply troubled, but she could not refuse an order, indirect as it was. As she stepped out with a worried look thrown over her shoulder, Lady Eleanor spoke, “I hope I did not break tradition and precedent by sending my chaperone away for a paltry reason.”
Why is she so guarded?
“I apologize for unthinkingly calling you a tomboy,” Aaron said. “And then compounding it by calling you aspoiledtomboy.”
Her fingers closed over her skirt, a deep verdant dress, “Why did you call me a tomboy at the beginning?”
“There was a certain look in your eye that day,” Aaron said honestly. “I spotted a crafty intelligence in your look that I had not seen in any lady before. You were not old enough to be termed a bluestocking, so I resorted to the first thing that came to my mind. I was proven right when, after my second insult of calling you spoiled, your immediate repartee was calling me a misogynist.”
