Langford tapped the ash off his cigar. “An interesting answer. I guess now we know why he has really come back, don’t we, Brentworth?”
* * *
Clara quickly read her morning mail while eating breakfast in Gifford House, the family’s London home. Two letters in particular received very brief attention.
Her grandmother had written a scold.I am told that you have refused to receive Stratton twice since you went up to London ten days ago. I must insist that you cease such provocations.
Theo’s letter said much the same thing.We are unlikely to make progress with Stratton if you continue insulting him. Think of Emilia’s future. Think of mine. Surely you can find a modicum of gentility where he is concerned.
Shewasthinking of Emilia’s future. And the family’s. This whole idea of bridging the divide between her family’s and Stratton’s struck her as ill-advised and disloyal. Let them try it if they wanted to, but she was not going to cooperate. Grandmamma knew that. It was why no one had told her about this plan before embarking on it.
Donning her pelisse and her bonnet, she lifted a wrapped package and descended to the reception hall. Eschewing the family carriages, she told a footman to get her a hackney.
She took some air on the portico while she waited. Unfortunately, while she did, a carriage pulled into the drive. She cursed under her breath.
Stratton again. And here she was in plain view. She could hardly have the butler tell him she was not at home.
On the other hand, it should be obvious she was leaving. A few polite words and he would be on his way.
The duke stepped out of his carriage and approached her. After a greeting, he stopped with one foot on the lowest step of the portico and eyed her.
“You go out a great deal.”
“I may be in mourning, but I am not dead.”
He gestured to his carriage. “Allow me to take you to your destination.”
“Very kind of you, but my carriage is on its way.”
“It may be some time before it arrives.”
Indeed it might. With an inward groan of resignation, she turned to the house. “Since you have called on me, let us go inside and have a proper visit while I wait.”
She led the way into the house and deposited her package in a footman’s hands. Up the stairs she led the duke, and into the drawing room.
She perched herself on a chair and hoped she appeared at least half as formidable as her grandmother.
The duke took a seat in the chair closest to hers and settled in comfortably. His hair had been styled since she last saw him on that hill. His now disheveled cropped locks brought more attention to his liquid dark eyes and to that sensual mouth and hard jaw.
“It is kind of you to receive me, Lady Clara.”
“Since you saw fit to report to my family that I did not receive you previously, I now feel obligated to pretend I am amenable to this inexplicable desire of theirs to form a friendship with you.”
“You are a very direct woman.”
“You are a most persistent man.”
“Persistence in man is a virtue, while directness in a woman—”
“Is a nuisance. Which begs the question of why you have bothered being so persistent with this nuisance of a woman.”
“That is an excellent question. If you had seen me on my first call, by now you would have a full understanding of my intentions.”
What an odd way to put it. Whatever hisintentionswere.
“Perhaps you will enlighten me now, and quickly, so I can resume my own plans—plans which you have interrupted.”
He laughed quietly, as if at a private joke. “Your brother called you shrewish. I can see why.”
