Page 4 of Her Duke in Shining Armor
The scornful laugh Aaron almost made would have Harold feel insulted, so he swallowed it down instead. “I think you mean repulsed, Harold. The first time we met I was one-and-twenty, she was fifteen, freckled-face and—”
“Where you told her she was a tomboy,” Mr. Harold inserted only to make Aaron scowl.
“—and even after completing my degree, I spent another two years at Oxford studying trade laws and regulations. When I came back to take over from father two years ago, I gained a distinct feeling that she did not like me.”
“Perhaps it was because that was the time you told the young lady, of seven-and-ten I believe, that she was spoiled,” Mr. Harold concluded.
Aaron grunted, “Was I wrong? She looked at me like I was mud under her shoes. It is now no secret that Lady Brisdane disregards all men of her class which I why I have avoided her these last months. I suppose she is holding out for a prince of a foreign land or an Indian Maharajah to court her.”
“Perhaps,” Mr. Harold inserted. “But Your Grace, take my foolish advice, try to connect with her tomorrow night.”
Aaron was reaching out to refill his glass when Harold’s words settled on his mind. “You really think there is something there?”
“If you pardon my forwardness, Your Grace, you have not seen her for over four years and rumors do not paint a full picture of a person. Even if she has gained a reputation for refusing suitors, you may be the one to find out why. Moreover, your families are not enemies, so I do not expect a gruesome recreation of the Capulet versus Montague situation.”
Aaron swallowed over a sudden lump in his throat. “That is not a pretty picture.”
“And I have it on good authority that her freckles have disappeared,” Harold added.
The man was not subtle, was he?
“I’ll consider it.”
“Do you have a specific suit for tomorrow, Your Grace?”
“If she is what they say, perhaps the very same suit that I wore to my Aunt Beatrice’s funeral.” Aaron drawled. His failed attempt at humor was met with a withering look. “Fine, fine, I’ll leave it to your discretion, Harold, but I know she’ll not accept my apology much less an offer for courtship.”
“I beg to differ, Your Grace,” Harold said calmly. “I will see to your suit for tomorrow.”
Scratching under Icarus’ jowls Aaron smiled ruefully, “So, I am tasked with winning Lady Eleanor over, a task worthy of Hercules himself...how much would you wager that she is going to spit in my face tomorrow night, considering she hates my very existence?”
Chapter 2
As this party was the last of the ton’s affairs, Eleanor was decided on two things—firstly, be so subtle in dissuading any of the men who tried to speak to her that they did not suspect they were being put off and secondly, avoid those who were smart enough to suspect it.
A few names were on that second list, the principal of which was one annoying and aggravating Duke that she would rather not even think about, much less name.
The hosts, Viscount and Viscountess Greyson received her and her chaperone, Miss Malcolm with strained grace. And the strain was for good reason. Lady Greyson’s son, Anthony, had been one of her suitors until she had found him nothing but a cad pretending to be an honorable Oxford-educated man.
“Lady Eleanor and Miss Malcolm, welcome to our humble abode. How wonderful it is to see you both, especially you Lady Eleanor.” The hostess’ smile was forced.
Really, after the scathing dismissal I had given your son Anthony, I believe you would rather see my grave than see me.
“Thank you, Lady Greyson, it is my pleasure to be here,” she smiled tightly with the pleasantry. Oh, how she hated saying things she did not mean.
“May I ask, where is your father?”
“He’s away on business,” Eleanor replied. “You know, the never-ending duties of a Duke. But what a divine necklace you have.”
“My dear husband bought it from Rundell and Bridge’s for our anniversary,” the lady’s fingers ran over the emerald stones while looking over to her spouse of over twenty-odd years, an ex-military man who still stood with the same formal bearing.
“Marriage is such a wonderful thing, dear.” Her smile then grew sweetly condescending. “In fact, our Anthony is now engaged to Lady Hannah Collings, you do know her dear, the daughter of the Prince Regent’s main advisor?”
“Faintly,” Eleanor’s smile was sympathetic. Why did this woman believe that she would be sorry for losing out on her scoundrel of a son? Anthony was no prize, and in fact, she felt sorry for Lady Collings.
“Oh, and what a wonderful dress you have dear,” Lady Greyson complimented.
“Thank you,” Eleanor replied.
