He thought about the list he’d meant to talk to her about, but that could wait until tomorrow, as for now he needed the peace that only Aideen could provide.
And he began to show his wife how very sweet he himself could be.
Chapter Twenty-one
Rules are made to be broken.
In a thoroughly agreeable mood, Aideen wandered down the principal staircase to the sound of voices from the breakfast room. Alex and his mother if she wasn’t mistaken.
Yawning, she stretched in a most un-duchess-like manner and groaned lightly. Certain areas of her body ached this morning, but she wouldn’t change it for all the whisky in Ireland.
Her husband had been true to his word last night and loved her gentle until she’d been driven mad with pleasure.
Understanding his past explained so much. He shied from intimacy like a beaten hound, snarling from the corner after a harrowing experience. But quite honestly, she didn’t want him to change – she adored his cold glances and brusque demeanour, his teasing taunts and malevolent smiles.
There might be something awry within her character for liking such conduct, but then there weren’t many gentlemen who would enjoy her own pert retorts or lack of reserve either.
How odd, but they matched – despite station in life and their squabbles, they matched.
And she loved him. Completely and deeply.
Meghan’s raised voice could now be heard from the hallway, and Aideen paused to listen. They were arguing, and it didn’t sound good.
“Really! I’ve never seen anything quite so ridiculous,” the dowager duchess stated, with the tone of a governess to their ill-behaved charge. “She is no senseless young miss!”
Staying her entrance, Aideen wondered who they were talking about.
“Of course not,” Alex replied smoothly, “and hence I am sure she will not be offended by some…guidance. Aideen understands my worry.”
Oh.
“Number one – Do not speak to strangers!” the ever-elegant dowager duchess screeched at full pelt. “Breadcrumbs and fishhooks, Alex, you’d lock her in a box if you could.”
Oh dear.
“Strangerscould be undercover spies or assassins.”
“And strangers could also be nothing like.” There followed a raft of Celtic babbling.
“Mother, I do understand Welsh and that is not anatomically possible.”
“That is rather the point,twpsyn.”
Aideen couldn’t bear mother and son to be so at odds, especially over her, thus she pushed open the door.
Her husband was sitting at the breakfast table, a hunk of bacon stuffed between thick bread paused at his mouth whilst the dowager duchess paced the blue Aubusson rug.
“Good morning, Meghan, Alex.”
They both nodded, Meghan with features tight, but the duke…
Although fully starched and wearing an even deeper black, if that was possible, he appeared slightly more…relaxed was going too far, but certainly more at ease.
Meghan grabbed her reticule from the sideboard and dashed over. “I must go or I shall cosh that thick jolter-head with my coffee cup.” She bussed Aideen’s cheek. “I’ll never know how I raised such a dogged numbskull, and if you can’t bear it, dear, then come and stay at my house and we can peruse maps of Egypt. Once Napoleon has been seen to again, I’ve a particular fancy to go hunting the lost emerald mine of Cleopatra.”
Nodding as Meghan breezed through the door, Aideen shifted from foot to foot, now a little unsure. She may feel at peace with the world this morning, but Alex had a bad habit of blowing hot and cold for inexplicable reasons known only to himself and God… And even God was probably somewhat perplexed at times.
“Egypt?” He rose from the table, eyebrow raised, lips twitching at the edges, and her insides burbled their delight. She chastened them severely.
