Adam didn’t bother to reply beyond a look of ironic disbelief.
“How long will you be in Hawick?” Persephone asked, reminding herself that duchesses are not afraid to take up a conversation.
“I take it, then, you wish me to return?” Harry looked genuinely pleased by the sentiment.
Persephone glanced quickly at Adam. She didn’t want to upset him or say something to further convince him she was unsuitable.
Adam’s eyes darted quickly toward her before he just as quickly looked away again. “Harry will come back regardless of how you answer,” he said dryly. “He’s one of those friends who never disappears for long.”
Persephone smiled a little. Adam had called Harry his friend, even though his tone was disapproving. She wondered if he even realized what he’d said. Harry seemed to, though. He actually winked at Persephone as if to say, “I told you.”
“You had better be suffering from an uncontrollable muscle tic,” Adam grumbled, still seemingly concentrating on the food on his plate.
“Completely uncontrollable.” Harry’s smile belied his words.
“Good. Otherwise I would think you were just winking at my wife.”
“And if that were the case, you would be forced to call me out. Too bad I’ll be gone in the morning.”
“Certainly you mean, ‘Good thing I’ll be gone in the morning,’” Adam corrected, taking a bite of beef.
“On the contrary.” Harry’s casual demeanor did not slip in the least. “I would rather enjoy being called out by you. Gives a fellow a certain distinction to have survived a duel with the infamous Duke of Kielder.”
“Who says you would survive?”
Harry did not appear concerned. “You would shoot the gentleman you only just referred to as a friend?”
“I never called you anything so mawkish,” Adam grumbled.
“And now you’re using cant?” Harry asked with mock surprise. “Are you feeling well, Adam?”
Persephone thought she heard a, “Shut up, Harry.”
All conversation ended at that point, Harry looking remarkably pleased with himself, Adam looking as disgruntled as ever. She watched their reactions unfolding with such an enormous lack of understanding that she felt completely out of place.
“Your Grace.” Barton’s voice broke the silence as the last remove was brought into the dining room. He set a calling card at Adam’s right arm.
Persephone craned her neck slightly, hoping for a better look. She sat too far distant to read the inscription but saw that the corner was turned down. A visitor at Falstone Castle?
“Where have you put him?” The tension in Adam’s jaw didn’t bode well.
“In the drawing room, Your Grace.”
“He, no doubt, has come with luggage.” Adam’s annoyance could hardly have been more obvious.
Who could the visitor possibly be?
“Quite a lot of luggage, actually, Your Grace,” Barton confirmed.
“Is it snowing, Barton?” Adam asked.
“No, Your Grace.”
“Then throw him out.” Adam tossed the card onto the table beside him.
“His conveyance was obtained on the road, Your Grace,” Barton said. “It has already departed.”
“He can walk.” Adam was perfectly serious.
