“A missive for you, Your Grace,” the butler said.
The butler held a piece of paper on a silver salver. Oh, for hell’s sake. Of all the ostentatious shite.
“Just–just hand me the letter, all right?” Hector asked, snatching the paper. “It doesn’t need all this … to-do.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” the butler said, grinning.
Hector had a feeling that he and Jonathan were going to get along just fine. The butler was probably the only ally he was likely to find in London, so Hector should take what he could get.
He unfolded the note.
Your Grace,
We are not introduced, but I am Aaron Warson, the Duke of Redcliff. I believe you met my sister, Lady Clio, earlier today. I understand that this interaction was highly irregular. Come to my residence at your earliest convenience to discuss how we should handle matters.
-AW
It was a bloody summons. Oh, it was couched in polite language andat your earliest convenience,but it was a goddamned summons.
And Hector was sotiredof following other men’s commands.
“Jonathan,” he said, summoning the butler to his side in an instant. “Please return this note instructing this–this Warson fellow that anyone who wishes to speak to me will need to come here. And let anyone else who seeks to see me know the same.”
It briefly occurred to Hector that he might be putting Jonathan in an awkward position by asking him to do this, but the man lookeddelighted. Apparently, Hector wasn’t the only one who had had his fill of the excesses of the aristocrats.
“Happy to do it, Your Grace,” he said, his round face lighting up at the mere prospect. “And please, let me reiterate: welcome home.”
CHAPTER 6
“Ican’t believe he bloody refused me,” Aaron grumbled for what had to be the twentieth time as the carriage—theothercarriage, as the one from the accident had indeed proved beyond repair—rumbled up to Metford Manor.
“We could have stayed home,” Clio pointed out … just as she had done all twenty times before.
And, because apparently neither of them knew when to quit, Aaron kept his subsequent reaction identical, as well: he scowled.
He’d been doing so much scowling the past day that he was going to be lucky if he didn’t injure himself.
Clio had not been successful in explaining that there was no scandal in what had happened with the Duke of Metford. Afterall, if carriage accidents were a scandal, then hack drivers would be the most notorious figures in London.
Aaron had not been moved. She could only hope that this duke fellow could convince him. Her hopes weren’t high—she’d been the recipient of the duke’s highly doubtful charm offensive herself the day prior—but men were dreadfully perverse when it came to listening to one another over theirbeloved sisters whom they’d known all their days.
Clio’s only consolation was that Phoebe was as annoyed with her husband as Clio was.
A short, round butler let them into the drawing room of the house, a very un-butler-like bounce in his step as he did so. The butler’s good cheer made Aaron’s dour aspect all the starker. He stood, staring angrily out the window, until the Duke of Metford arrived.
And then the atmosphere in the room was evenmorerepressive and forbidding.
“How can I help you?” the duke asked sternly. His words were polite enough, but his tone said that their arrival was a huge inconvenience.
But Aaron had withstood French cannons, not to mention their parents’ lifetime of neglect. He was unmoved by one irritable duke.
Clio, by contrast, found that she was annoyingly moved. The Duke of Metford was still wearing simple clothing, but it was clearly well-made, and he’d had a shave since she’d encountered him in the street yesterday, and his long, dark hair was neatly combed back from his face. It was decidedly unfussy, as far as gentlemen’s attire went. Really, it wasn’t fashionable at all.
And maybe that was what struck Clio about it. He was so … different. There were the hard planes of his face and the intense glower in his blue eyes. With his hair pulled back, she could see that there were several thin scars leading toward one of his ears.
Rugged. The word popped into her head. He lookedrugged.
“I’m certain that you must know why we are here,” Aaron said, drawing back his shoulders to make himself look as tall as possible. Clio fought not to roll her eyes.Men.
