Eric hoped Miss MacCallum arrived before he had to listen to Hume explain how her future good fortune would come at the Duke of Brentworth’s expense. The man was itching to do just that.
“I have been negligent,” Hume said. “Allow me to have Mrs. Moffet bring you some refreshment.” He aimed toward the door to call for the housekeeper. “I will call my mother as well, so she can greet you.”
Eric did not want refreshment. He did not even want to stay in this house, where he was sure ears would be listening. “Please do not. This is a business call, and I would not want to disturb the household. I will wait in the garden, however. The day is fair.”
“Certainly. I will show you the way.”
* * *
Davina stared in the looking glass, then groaned. Hopeless.
She had hurriedly changed into a decent dress, though hardly one suited to receiving a duke. That did not bother her as much as her hair. It hung in loose waves on either side of her face, skimming her jaw. It almost looked fashionable. Unfortunately, it hung the same way all around her head. Long locks had not been gathered into a knot on her crown the way anyone would expect.
She scowled at her reflection, but not in distaste at her appearance. Rather, she fumed over the idiocy of cutting her hair. Had Sir Cornelius gotten to her in time, the quack her landlady in Edinburgh called in would not have had the chance. Sir Cornelius was a scientist and knew the ancient practice of cutting off hair during bad fevers did nothing a cool compress would not achieve.
You are alive, aren’t you? that quack had snapped when she complained after the fever passed. Yes, alive, but that illness had taken a toll in her face, her weight, her hair, even her outlook. She had gone into that fever a girl and emerged a woman.
That was what she saw in the looking glass. A woman with features too bold and hair too short and goals too ambitious. A woman with something she had to do that had now been delayed too long.
She stood and smoothed the pale ocher muslin of her skirt, and left her chamber to go down to the library. She did not expect it to be a pleasant meeting. There was only one reason the Duke of Brentworth would have come here today.
She found Mr. Hume loitering outside the library door. “He has gone to the garden,” he said, falling into step and guiding her toward the back of the house. “I had intended to have my mother sit with you as a chaperone, but in the garden there is no point because he will only request you walk with him.”
“I do not need a chaperone, least of all with this man. Nor did you think so. You just wanted your mother to listen.”
“That is not true. You are as yet unmarried. You should not—”
“Mr. Hume, we both know why he has called. I am in much more danger of being browbeaten than importuned.” She paused at the door in the morning room, which led out to the garden. “I appreciate your concern and your interest in my welfare, but, please, allow me a moment to collect myself. A dragon waits out there, and my sword is very small.”
He patted her shoulder in reassurance. “Find me in the library when he leaves.” He went away.
Davina faced the door, closed her eyes, found the core of her strength, then walked outside.
The duke stood twenty feet away. He did not stroll amid the plantings or even look at them. Rather he stood tall and erect, his profile carving the landscape, his brow slightly furrowed.
He appeared crisp and precise and sternly, impressively handsome. And displeased.
He must have heard the door, because he turned his head to watch her approach. Oh yes. Very,verydispleased.
Amanda had said that mothers with eligible daughters did not even try to lure him because they found him too formidable. Davina understood that now. Here he was in all his privilege, his lean strong form containing an energy that contradicted his casual stance.
She made her curtsy and he his bow. “How generous of you to call,” she said. “I fear the household will not be the same for days.”
“I will not stay long. I apologize for taking you away from your duties.”
“Nora, my charge, is delighted, and I don’t mind having an excuse to partake of the garden in midday.”
He looked toward the house. “Would you walk with me? I need to discuss something with you in privacy.”
“Of course.”
He set his hat and crop on a nearby bench. They began to stroll through the garden. She ignored how his close proximity made him very large and a bit overwhelming. She would not allow him to bully her. Not that he had done anything to imply he sought to do that. Then again, she wondered if it was the goal of how he presented himself to the world.
“I have been to the palace,” he said. “I was informed why you were there when I saw you. I know about your claim, and your petition.”
She turned her head to look up at him just as he turned his head to look down. “You could have told me,” he said. “If not at the salon when we were introduced, then at St. James’s when we met there.”
“I thought it better not to until I heard back from the king.”
