Page 38 of Her Duke in Shining Armor
“Unfortunately,” Aaron said. “I have not found my prospective wife yet.”
Slatten’s rheumy eyes met his with unusual sharpness, “Then what is this I hear about you, Wyndrake and the Brisdane lady?”
“Excuse me for being blunt, but Wyndrake is a contemptible man who asked me to defy my morals and seduce the lady who is not ready for marriage,” Aaron replied stiffly. “Nor is she interested in me.”
“Son, you are—”
“Six-and-twenty and it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife,” Aaron interrupted brazenly. “I know, Slatten, but I will not desecrate myself or her honor just to prove anything to a man who had no morals himself. Besides, no one takes into account the mind frame of the lady in the marriage equation and I will not pressure anyone into marriage. She is a Duke’s daughter—she has no need for my money.”
Slatten rested his glass on the table, “Son, you are educated and capable but many of our people are old-fashioned. They will see a young man with no solid connection or anchor and think he is flighty. No matter how established your dukedom is, they will look at you for confirmation of stability.”
Aaron felt annoyance cross his mind. Why was it that marriage had any bearings on how he ran his ship? Many men just like the scandalous wicked adulterer Burcham ran their territories just fine.
“A married man is much more presentable to investors and prospective investors than one who is not. I am old, son, and though I am not on the social scene I know how the race runs. Wyndrake might be untrustworthy and deceitful but he is married, and many will turn a blind eye to many underhanded things when the image of solidity is in play. Play to that image, even if it is another lady, play up to it, Oberton.”
They were sage words and Aaron knew they were true, but he was not interested in any other lady. He nodded, “I will do my best.”
Standing, Aaron shook the man’s hand he saw him out and then came back to his desk. Propping his elbows on the smooth surface, Aaron ran his hands over his face. His eyes then shifted to a pile of letters on the desk that he had not seen before but one stood out to him.
He plucked up the card that had the Brisdane seal on the back and read a sentence of flowing poetry,‘I can no other answer make, but thanks, and thanks.’
If his memory served him well, the quote came from Shakespeare’sTwelfth Night. He sat back and flicked the card over—it was dark peach with the seal printed in gold on the back. Turning back to the words he traced over every curve of the letters and the soft loops of a trained calligrapher and smiled.
* * *
As the carriage rolled up the long drive, Eleanor observed the privacy afforded by the tall trees and thick hedges. The house in Kensington was an old but lovely two-story building with ivy trailing up the ground floor and two chimney stacks at the back.
It was picturesque and charming and Eleanor could see Darcy’s personality in this home. She envisioned warm, homey hearths, chaise lounges with knitted blankets thrown over the back, random bric-a-brac placed on bookcases, and a permanent smell of sweet apple pies in the air.
The carriage came to the front walk and Eleanor waited until the driver descended and came to help them. With his help, she and Miss Malcolm were out in the soft sunshine and approached the door as the crunch of loose gravel under their feet met their ears.
Eleanor was still apprehensive about not sending a card first but knocked on the door with her gloved fist. Mere moments after her knock, a woman in black taffeta dress and a white mob cap firmly secured over her knot of grey hair announced her as the housekeeper.
“Good day, how may I help you, miss?” she said.
“I am Eleanor Stanley, Lady Darcy’s friend,” Eleanor announced a little awkwardly. She could count on one hand the many times she had introduced herself as such.
Feeling even more awkward she handed over her card and the good lady took it, glanced quickly and nodded, “Please come, she is in the kitchen.”
Eleanor’s eyes darted up, what was a lady doing in a kitchen? Her unspoken question was answered by the housekeeper. “The kitchen, My Lady, is where Lady Darcy feels most at home, she cooks constantly.”
The evidence of the housekeeper’s statement was proven by the smell of cinnamon and vanilla in the air. She entered a sitting room that matched her expectations. The chaise lounges were dark brown with knitted throws over the back, a wooden coffee table was in the middle and tiny circular tables resting on squares of carpet were dotted around the room.
“I’ll tell her that you are here,” the housekeeper said and with a curtsy before she went through an arch.
“It smells heavenly,” Miss Malcolm noted.
“I agree,” Eleanor replied.I wonder if the Duke of Oberton knows that she cooks?
The housekeeper came back in with a loaded tray, “She is arms deep in pastry dough but she will be with you in ten to fifteen minutes. Please, have a glass of her fruit drink.”
Her eyes met Miss Malcolm as she took the glass and pure tart sweetness erupted on her tongue. The drink was a delicious as the smell in the air and Eleanor eagerly finished her cup, holding in the vulgar urge to smack her lips after.
“Thank you,” Eleanor replied while placing the cup down and cleared her throat, “Is there a garden here?”
“A medium one,” the housekeeper replied. “It is enclosed by walls though.”
Enclosed by walls—that was even better.
