Page 60
“Sir, I am living, breathing proof of that very thing.”
How had this turned into an argument between them?
Because passion bubbled beneath the surface, and if it couldn’t be appeased one way, it would be another.
He towered over her now. Not threateningly, but powerful and commanding, and not easily dismissed.
“No, you are not. Your mother didn’t have any affection for Andrews. It’s not the same at all. When two people care for each other, love each other above all else, station does not matter.”
“What do you know about it? You who’ve never had to ignore barbed comments and sly looks? Never had to pretend indifference while simmering with embarrassment.” She flung her hair behind her. “Never had to wonder where your next meal would come from?” She slammed the last book down then lowered her voice, fearful someone would overhear their argument. “Are you saying none of your elite acquaintances have taken advantage of their lofty positions to have their way with a servant or other woman who caught their roving eye?”
“I cannot deny that, nor can I tell you what’s going on inside my Father’s head. But I vow I am not like them, and I take exception to you lumping me in with the likes of those cretins. I have fought seven duels for that very reason. Duels against those who are deemed my social equals, because they abused their position and ruined an innocent without remorse. Those are the keys, Eden. Deliberate intent and lack of remorse.”
He plowed his long fingers through his thick hair and paced to the window seat. His shoulders rose and fell in his agitation. He sliced her a hard glance over his broad shoulder.
“And you, Eglantina Eden Haverden, are as much a snob as they are if you restrict love and affection to those in the same social class. I’d have thought better of you. Love can happen at any time, between anyone, and it’s a gift to be treasured.”
He looked at her with such disappointment, chagrin beset her. Shaking his auburn head, he spun on his heel and stalked to the library door.
“By the by, Father insists you wear your hair up when our guests are here.”
Stinging sarcasm that.
“He won’t budge on the matter, though I tried to dissuade him.”
Eden remained rooted to the floor. The order to tie her hair up hadn’t rattled her. She’d expected it sooner, truth to tell.
Chester’s confession about the duels had dissolved her irritation.
He’d risked his life several times for a woman’s reputation?
She’d misjudged him.
She swallowed and blinked back tears before collecting her list and examining the blurry entries.
What to do next?
Oh, yes. Chef wanted a word about dainties and cakes to serve during teas.
“Mrs. Haverden?”
His grace rolled his invalid chair into the library.
How could she not have heard his approach?
A certain marquis’s striking features floated to mind as she bobbed a curtsy.
She may have been a trifle distracted.
“Your Grace.”
Where was Neville?
As if reading her mind, the duke said, “I sent Neville to the kitchen for my coffee. Did you know he’s the father of eight?”
“No, I was not aware.” She folded her list and, after tucking it into her apron pocket, offered a polite smile. Since her arrival, his grace’s health seemed more robust as well. Mayhap Chester was right. “May I be of help?”
Is that what she was supposed to say?
