Alexander reached her and took her hand, bowing over it and kissing it. In return, she gave a graceful curtsy. Alexander dismissed the servant who closed the door. Offering his arm, Alexander escorted Violet to the sitting room. As they walked he wondered if that room was more presentable than the book-strewn library.
Yes, of course it is. My servants know their job, though there aren’t many of them.
“How long have you lived here, Your Grace?” Violet asked.
Alexander looked at her. The servant had left the room but she seemed determined to maintain the facade.
“I took the house three years ago. There was no London property as part of the Lorchester Estate so I rent this place to be near to Parliament.”
“Three years?” Violet said, looking around. “Forgive me, it seems a little…bare?”
They entered the sitting room. A fire had been laid and there was a chaise that Alexander had never used and an armchair. Apart from a sideboard by the door and a nest of tables in a corner, there was no other furniture. A tall bookcase stood against the wall opposite a bay window that looked out across Brompton Row.
“Yes, I suppose it does seem that way. I have been more interested in books than furniture since moving to London. The library at Lorchester is extensive. It was the pursuit of books that first brought me to the city.”
“Not the House of Lords?” Violet asked.
Alexander indicated that she should take the chaise. He spotted his stockings and one boot beneath the chaise. The other boot was standing incongruously on the hearth. He decided to brazen it out.
I’ll no go scurrying about like a wain feart of a skelping from his mammy.
The thought made him chuckle, not only at the image but at the sudden idea that if he were to speak the thought aloud, Violet would probably not be able to make head nor tail out of it. Still, a naughty child being whipped by his mother was a universal image, so perhaps she would puzzle it out.
“Was there something funny, Your Grace?” Violet asked as Alexander took a seat.
“Just a thought. Will you please call me Alexander now that we are alone?” he said, putting a plaintive tone into his voice.
Violet blushed, turning away as though to look about the room, but clearly trying to disguise the color rising in her cheeks.
“Yes, of course. That would be appropriate provided we are not overheard. It does not do to have your household staff observing informality.”
The color abruptly deepened in her cheeks. It made her pale blue eyes stand out remarkably. She cleared her throat as though she had just had a thought of her own on the subject. Alexander wondered what she could be thinking of or possibly remembering that would cause such a reaction.
“Very well. I can see the sense of that lassie.”
“Lady Violet. Or, Violet when we are alone,” Violet corrected.
“Of course.” Alexander nodded.
“I will not mention greeting a visitor in bare feet. It is your home after all,” she continued. “But as a Duke, you have the easiest of rules to observe. You will be among the highest ranking in just about any company except for royalty. Therefore, you will only be required to address in terms of my lord or my lady. It is for others to remember how to address you, differently to the way they would address others of lesser rank.”
Alexander nodded. “I had wondered. The books I’ve read do not cover how a man of superior rank should address someone of lower. It seems to be assumed that it is already known.”
“I do not think we should go too far down the road of terms of address just yet. I would like to address a more pressing concern. Your…posture.”
Alexander arched an eyebrow and allowed himself to slouch in his seat, propping one foot up on his knee. It was a rebellious streak, an instinct to deviate from instruction when confronted. Violet tried in vain to suppress a giggle at his open rebellion. Alexander joined her, sitting up straight.
“Forgive me. My posture. I am open to criticism.”
“If we may stand?” Violet said.
Alexander stood and Violet approached him. She placed a hand on his stomach which he found himself clenching moments before her touch. At that point he became more aware of that point of contact between them than anything else in the room. The other hand touched the back of his shoulders. She movedher hands to arrange him into a posture in which his shoulders were pushed back and out. It felt very unnatural.
“This is how a gentleman should stand. With hands either clasped behind his back or one hand behind the back, the other holding a cane or a pair of gloves.”
“Would I not be wearin’ the gloves?” Alexander asked.
He was conscious of how close she was standing. Her perfume was light and flowery, with every breath his head swam with delicate femininity. Her eyes were the most vivid blue, her skin perfect and pale. She was the epitome of gentle womanhood.
