Page 3 of Her Duke in Shining Armor
Frowning into her bland tea, she stood and went to add another dollop of milk. “What if I have already met him and I don’t know…” she took a moment to think it over then snorted, “If I am the next Lady Delancey, so be it.”
* * *
The Dukedom of Oberton
The Barvolt Mansion
Only a few lamps were lit in the flickering dimness of the Duke of Oberton’s large, high-ceilinged study. The light rendered the gilt-framed paintings of Aaron Barvolt’s forefathers a dark burnished gold and gave a strange ochre sheen to the leather furniture near it.
Lining the walls were tightly-clustered shelves of books and at the very far end was a dead hearth. In the middle of the room was his wide wooden desk which was mere feet away from the large sash windows he was standing in front of.
Aaron stared blankly out into the dark gardens before him, absently noting that the skeleton shape of the willow trees swaying in the breeze and the dark mounds the hedges created an eerie picture. In the dark solitude, Aaron felt as if the weight of the word was laid upon his broad shoulders.
From handling the various cares of the dukedom that his father had left him and managing the trade ship business that his dearly-departed uncle had left him, Aaron sometimes felt like he was drowning. His advisors and steward were a great help, but they could only do so much and, ultimately, every decision was left to him.
Lately, the most troubling decision he had to decide on was the issue of marriage. He had to find a wife soon. Turning around he went to sit on the leather wingback and tapped his knees. Instantly, his two Irish Wolfhounds bounded over to him and dropped their paws on his knees.
“Icarus and Erebus,” Aaron smiled as he scratched them both behind the ears. “Missed me, did you boys?”
The dogs’ wet noses eagerly rubbed into his dry palms and he chuckled, “Sorry, no treats now, but I will remember next time.”
Icarus, with his light coat, sank down to his haunches where the dark-haired Erebus, named after the Greek god of the night, stayed balanced on his back legs. Ruffling the large dog under his muzzle, Aaron sighed, “Be glad that no one is forcing you to find a mate, but your master must do so.”
“Ahem.”
“You may enter, Harold,” Aaron called to his inherited butler. The septuagenarian had served his father and his grandfather before him, but despite the frequents entreaties for him to retire, Mr. Charles Harold refused.
“Your usual nightcap, Your Grace,” the butler said while depositing a tray of warm wine on the table. “I must add that your valet, Mr. Stanton, has been suddenly been called away.”
“The reason, Harold?” Aaron asked while stepping over his faithful hounds.
“A family matter, Your Grace.”
“Ah,” Aaron acknowledged while pouring out his wine. “Then I suppose the job of arranging my outfit to Lord Greyson’s ball tomorrow evening must be left to you.”
“I would be happy to, Your Grace,” the silver-haired man replied. “But I must admit that the fashion of your generation befuddles me. What man wears pants so tight they can be mistaken for a second skin?”
“Dandies, Harold, dandies with their blue powdered wigs,” Aaron laughed in his wine. “Which if you ever see me don, please call the men from Bedlam to institutionalize me.”
“Your Grace,” the butler’s voice had gone thoughtful. “I do not want to press you, but you do know that your partners are looking for you to choose a bride this season.”
“I know,” Aaron sighed.
“Have you gained an attachment to any young woman?”
Had it been anyone else who had asked that question Aaron would have quickly censured it for being too bold, but seeing as Harold had been a second father to him for many years, Aaron respectfully replied.
“Sadly, no,” the youngest Duke in England grimaced.
“Your Grace, do you think you would initiate a marriage of convenience?” Mr. Harold opined.
“And lose out my chance for real love?” Aaron shook his head. “I do not think so. I know she’s out there, Harold, but I’ll be damned if I can find her.”
“Perhaps you are looking too far,” the butler added. “Maybe she is closer than you think.”
Peering over his glass, Aaron spoke, “I sense that you trying to tell me something. What is it?”
“A connection with Lady Brisdane,” Mr. Harold offered. “The last time you met, I think she was impressed by you.”
