Page 14 of Never Second Guess a Lord
She had been riveted the moment he started showing her around. He had a way of drawing one in with how he spoke of his homeland. Made one see Scotland in a whole new light. He told her the story behind nearly every painting. The plight this ancestor or that faced. How trying times were.
He shared so much and with such feeling that she knew this was personal for him. That his late wife had likely given him the same tour. Despite her distrust of love, she could not help but find it in her heart to appreciate that. What would it have been like had her own husband done that for her? Explained his ancestors immortalized in the portraits at Mayfair? Had he looked at them with the same passion and interest as Jacob did of people who were not even blood-related?
Their conversation was no less dull when they sat and ate. The fare was markedly different than what she was used to in England, so he gave her a full account of everything as it was offered to her, then, after it was served, explained why it was such a popular dish in Scotland.
She was rather stunned by how quickly time flew by. It seemed too brief a period before people finished eating and headed off to listen to music and enjoy themselves. Too little time when it had been hours. While no longer hungry, she found herself wishing there was more food to sample, if only to hear Jacob’s passion. His vivid interest in just about all things, it seemed.
Or so was the case until piano music drifted into the room. When that happened, the same veil she had seen fall over his features earlier found him once again. A sadness that had everything to do with his late wife’s pianoforte.
While she had every intention of bidding him goodnight after they ate, something about the lost look on his face made her speak out of turn. Or perhaps just a need to help him escape a heartache she knew all too well, however different its design. “I could use a spot of fresh air, Your Grace.” She looked at him kindly. “I hear there is music to be had outdoors as well. Perhaps you would escort me?”
He looked at her blankly for a moment as though he did not see her before his gaze seemed to clear. In that brief moment, she saw what she had felt earlier. A need to flee. Only it was his need this time. Not from her. She understood that. But from memories. Heartache.
“If you would not mind, I believe…” he began but trailed off.
However awkward the moment, she understood what he meant to say. “You believe perhaps it is time to retire?”
Where hours before, she might have thought him putting on some sort of show so he could go about his business, now she knew better. The Duke of Argyll was suffering. Needed to be alone. No longer wanted to be around anyone, including her.
And she did not fault him for it nor, ironically, distrust him.
“Then I bid you a goodnight, sir.” After she stood, she clenched her hand when tempted to rest it on his shoulder in comfort. “For I, too, am tired.” She offered him what she hoped appeared a heartfelt smile because it very much was. “Perhaps I will see you over breakfast?”
“I would like that, Lady Barrington.” He stood, nodded, and clenched his hand when she suspected he wanted to take hers. Instead, he lowered his head before his warm gaze returned to her face. “Very much so.”
Though disappointed the evening was ending, she knew it was for the best. Her viewpoint of Jacob might have shifted some, but it was better they not spend too much time together.
“Why, sister?” Grace would likely ask, seeing everything from a romantic angle. “Are you afraid your tyrant might not be such a beast after all? That he might deserve love rather than slander?”
Did he deserve love? Quite possibly, considering how much he had clearly cared for his late wife. Slander? She still had no idea. Still had no clue what to make of what she witnessed that day so long ago.
“I trust your evening was manageable, my lady?” Agnus said once she returned to her room. “Despite so many Scots?”
“It was,” she said. “Better than expected, if I am to be honest.”
“Was it then?” Agnus frowned as she helped Prudence undress. “Even though you lost your shawl?”
“My shawl?” She touched her shoulders and glanced around, only to realize it was gone. Her mind flashed back to how pleasantly warm she had grown when talking with Jacob at dinner. Had she taken it off, then? She could hardly remember. Agnus did not need to know that, though. “I must have misplaced it along the way.”
“Dear me,” Agnus said. “I will ask around and see it returned straight away, my lady.”
She could tell by Agnus’ perplexed expression she found that most unusual because it was. Prudence was meticulous about everything. She would never lose or forget anything.
“Thank you, Miss Agnus.” She eyed her maid curiously. “And how has your evening been so far?”
Agnus looked at her oddly as if taken aback that she asked because, truly, she normally would not. Never much cared.
“Fine enough, my lady,” she said. “All things considered.”
“Right,” she murmured. Her thoughts kept wandering back to Jacob. How he fared at that very moment. “Despite them being Scots.” She considered Agnus as she sat, and her maid started undoing her hair. “Have you run into much trouble? Or have things been up to your…ourstandards?”
“More up to our standards than expected my lady.” Agnus carefully removed the pins. “The staff is well-organized, and things are kept quite clean.”
“Good to hear.”
“Indeed, my lady.”
They said little after that, and Agnus went on her way after Prudence dismissed her. For the first time since arriving, she was tempted to step out onto her balcony. Tempted to put on a warm wrap and breathe in a new sense of freedom that filled her more by the moment. An odd but not unwelcome sensation she rather liked. Relished, if she were to be honest.
