Page 7 of A Virgin for His Grace
"How distressing for you both," she managed.
"Indeed. Devon has grown quite cynical about feminine motives, I fear. He seems to believe that every woman he encounters is either attempting to trap him into marriage or seeking to profit from his generosity in some other fashion."
Arabella thought of her own circumstances, of the envelope tucked away in her reticule and the salary it contained. Was that how Devon viewed her? As another grasping female seeking to benefit from his wealth? The thought was more painful than it should have been.
"And what of his social activities?" she asked, striving for a casual tone. "I understand His Grace maintains an active presence in society."
Livia's expression grew troubled. "He has acquired something of a reputation, I fear. The loss of our parents affectedhim deeply, though he would never admit as much. He has become rather... reckless in his pursuits. Aunt Millicent says it is his way of avoiding the pain, but I worry that he will do himself some lasting harm."
Before Arabella could respond to this startling insight into Devon's character, a soft knock sounded upon the sitting room door. At Livia's invitation to enter, a middle-aged woman in the crisp black dress of an upper servant appeared, bobbing a respectful curtsy.
"Begging your pardon, Lady Livia, Miss Greystone, but His Grace has requested that I show Miss Greystone to the library at her convenience. He wishes to discuss Lady Livia's educational progress."
"Of course, Mrs. Henderson," Arabella replied, rising from her chair with what she hoped appeared to be professional composure rather than the nervous anticipation that was actually coursing through her veins. "I shall attend His Grace immediately."
"Shall I accompany you?" Livia asked, though her tone suggested she was rather hoping to avoid her brother's exacting scrutiny.
"That will not be necessary," Arabella assured her with a smile. "I suspect His Grace wishes to discuss matters that might prove tedious to a young lady more interested in fashion and social events."
Livia's look of relief confirmed that Arabella had gauged the situation correctly, and she followed Mrs. Henderson from theblue suite with a growing sense of trepidation. The housekeeper led her through a maze of elegant corridors adorned with priceless artwork and furnishings that spoke to generations of wealth and refinement.
"His Grace is most particular about Lady Livia's welfare," Mrs. Henderson confided as they walked. "She is the light of his life, that one, though he'd never say so himself. Lost too much, has His Grace, to take any chances with what remains."
The comment provided yet another glimpse into Devon's character that contradicted his public reputation, and Arabella found herself more curious than ever about the man behind the notorious facade.
The library, when they reached it, was a magnificent chamber that rose two full stories, its walls lined floor to ceiling with leather-bound volumes that represented centuries of accumulated knowledge. Tall windows provided abundant natural light, whilst several comfortable reading chairs were positioned to take advantage of both illumination and warmth from the fireplace.
Devon stood before one of the windows, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed out at the street beyond. He had changed from his morning attire into a coat of deep green attire that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and the elegant line of his tall form.
"Miss Greystone," he said without turning, somehow aware of her presence despite the silence of her approach. "Thank you for joining me so promptly."
"Your Grace." Arabella moved deeper into the room, her eyes drawn despite herself to the impressive collection of books surrounding them. "You wished to discuss Lady Livia's education?"
Devon turned to face her, his dark eyes holding hers with that same intensity she remembered from their previous encounters. "Among other things. Please, be seated."
He gestured toward one of the reading chairs, and Arabella settled herself with careful attention to propriety, ensuring that her skirts were arranged modestly and her posture conveyed appropriate deference.
Devon, however, did not take the chair opposite her as she had expected. Instead, he moved to lean against the mantelpiece, a position that allowed him to study her whilst maintaining the advantage of height.
"I trust you found your accommodations satisfactory?" he began, though his tone suggested this was merely a polite preamble to more substantive matters.
"More than satisfactory, Your Grace. Your generosity continues to exceed my expectations."
"Good." Devon's gaze moved thoughtfully over her features, as though he were cataloguing each detail for future reference. "I confess myself curious about your qualifications for this position, Miss Greystone. What particular accomplishments do you possess that might benefit my sister?"
Arabella straightened slightly, recognizing that this was atest of sorts. "I am fluent in French and Italian, and possess a working knowledge of German. I play the pianoforte with reasonable skill, though I make no claims to virtuosity. My watercolors have been deemed adequate by competent judges, and I am well-versed in the social graces expected of a lady."
"Admirable," Devon murmured. "And your knowledge of literature? I notice you have been examining my collection with considerable interest."
Indeed, Arabella had been unable to resist stealing glances at the magnificent volumes surrounding them. "I confess to being something of a bluestocking, Your Grace. I have read widely in both classical and contemporary works."
"Including, perhaps, some works that might be considered unsuitable for a young lady?" Devon's tone was deceptively casual, but Arabella sensed there was more to the question than idle curiosity.
"I have read Byron," she admitted, lifting her chin slightly in defiance of any censure he might offer. "And I found his work to be possessed of considerable merit, despite—or perhaps because of—its controversial nature."
Devon's eyebrows rose with what appeared to be genuine surprise. "Indeed? And what did you think of his work?"
"I thought it brilliant and scandalous in equal measure," Arabella replied honestly. "Lord Byron possesses an undeniable gift for capturing the complexities of human passion, even if his personal conduct leaves much to be desired."
