Page 13 of Her Duke in Shining Armor
“Oberton,” Duke of Brisdane’s deep voice jerked Aaron from his thoughts. “Welcome, but this is not a good time. My daughter and I are occupied with company, you see.”
“Ah, I see,” Aaron replied coolly. Despite the man’s intimidating demeanor, they still held the same title and he would be damned if succumbed to Brisdane’s menacing attitude. “Are you sure Lady Eleanor cannot spare a moment? I will not be long.”
“Yes, I am sure,” the Duke’s lips thinned. “It will have to be another time.”
“I will offer my apologies then,” Aaron nodded. “Good d—”
“Wait,” Brisdane interjected. “What apology?”
Smiling slyly Aaron remarked, “A faux-pas I had made, but as you said, that is for another day. Good day, Brisdane.”
Leaving the room, Aaron knew he had crossed a line with the man but seeing his deep scowl that overtook his previous politeness, he now had an inkling of what Lady Eleanor had been talking about. The man was not inviting at all.
Venturing out into the warm sun, he boarded his carriage and felt another pang of guilt that he had probably gotten Lady Eleanor into trouble with her father with his impromptu visit. Sighing, he vividly pictured her icy glare and pointed words, stabbing into his chest when he did get to speak to her.
His apology would then be threefold; one for classing her as a spoiled tomboy; the second for the inexplicable note at the dance; and the third for getting her into trouble with her father.
“I’d best distract myself with some work,” Aaron sighed as he came upon his townhome. It slightly jarred him that Harold was not there to greet him when he arrived and he laughed under his breath. He missed the old man’s presence.
“Light fare this evening,” Aaron directed a maid while tugging off his coat and moving toward the stairs. “I will be in my study.”
Naturally, his eyes were drawn to the large, oak-wood desk. The piece of furniture was so massive that it was daunting. Tugging his jacket off and doing away with his waistcoat, Aaron sat and tugged out a drawer where his files were.
While working through them, his mind kept shifting over to Lady Eleanor and grim anxiety came with it. Eventually, his work was abandoned and he began to pace the room like a hostage in his own home. He could not shake the icy feeling that he had made life worse for Lady Eleanor.
“Capital,” he groaned. “Is there any part of this lady’s life you won’t make worse?”
The walls closed in on him and he raked both hands down his face. His concentration was shot so there was a good bet that no further work would be done that night. He was tugging his jacket back on as a maid entered with his dinner.
Blast it all.
“Your Grace?” her voice was timid.
“I have to step out,” Aaron said while fixing his sleeves. “Please place that in the oven.”
Securing his money pouch and hat, Aaron called for his driver. He stood in the foyer with unease until the man came around with the carriage. Not waiting for his greeting, he strode out announcing his destination in clipped tones, “White’s, Barnyard.”
In retrospection, Aaron should have known that going to a den of men who he barely got along with would cost him but he had not cared; he simply wanted to get out of his house. All he had craved was the solace of dark, smoky rooms, the taste of smooth scotch and poignant manly conversation.
He was barely three feet into the room when Wyndrake’s serpentinite voice slithered toward him, “Funny seeing you here, Oberton, I suppose the wooing of the dragon-miss went south, eh?”
With a tight jaw, Aaron endeavored to ignore him but the man would not stop.
“How could it though? Young and handsome as you are.”
Aaron had enough but forced his voice to be calm while beckoning a waiter over, “Heavy on the Spanish coin there, Wyndrake.”
“Not at all,” the man sounded sincere. “In fact, my fellows and I were just talking about how you were the best bet to tame Lady Disdain.”
Anger laced through the Duke’s chest and his fist curled at his side, “Are you still on that tripe? I told you, I will not try to seduce her.”
“Discipline her then,” Wyndrake smirked. “I happen to know a nifty club where—”
“Enough!” Aaron almost roared. “I will not descend to the level of shamelessness you men clearly live in. Are you that intimidated by a woman who rules her own mind? Or do you feed your blighted egos on women who delight in ignorance? Extend my sympathies to your wife if that is the attitude you have toward women.”
His words evoked a ringing silence and Aaron felt more than one pair of eyes on him. Wyndrake stood up and leaned in menacingly, “You will regret those words, Oberton.”
“I will regret nothing,” Aaron said stonily.
