A Duke by Any Other Name by Grace Burrowes Page 0,34
youth.”
“I have little enough youth left to emphasize.” Althea dipped her toast because Rothhaven had, and because she liked doing it.
“You don’t need youth. Youth will eventually abandon us all. Lady Phoebe’s youthful charms departed before Wellington served in India, and yet, you consider her a social authority. Does this Jane person you admire so much wear pastels and lacy confections?”
Somewhere beyond the walled garden—the orchard perhaps—a lone bird piped a greeting to the sun.
“Jane is statuesque. She wears…her consequence.” Jane would not see thirty again, and yet, she grew more gorgeous with each year. When she and Quinn smiled at each other down the length of a formal dinner table, Althea had to look away.
“Jewel tones,” Rothhaven said. “Blue to bring out your eyes. Eschew the pallid schoolgirl colors and avoid the quarter-mourning hues of older women trying not to outshine their daughters. Luminous semi-precious gems will do—pearls, nacre, and opals rather than anything with a hard glitter to it.”
“Quarter-mourning?”
“My mother’s term for the drab attire women settle for later in life.”
A good description, because later in life, every woman had something to mourn, even if she hadn’t lost loved ones. “No sapphires? They go with my eyes too.”
“You will provide all the sparkle required. You needn’t rely on gems to catch the candlelight, as some women do.”
Althea helped herself to another triangle of cinnamon toast and passed one to Rothhaven. “When you are complimenting a woman, Rothhaven, try not to sound as if the exercise vexes you past all bearing.”
He gazed out over the beautiful garden, his profile far too stern for such a lovely place on such a beautiful morning. “You should not have come here, Althea.”
“You should not hide behind these walls, Rothhaven. A garden party in this little patch of heaven would be talked of for years.”
He set his teacup down rather too hard on the tray. “When you are vexing a man past all bearing, my lady, try not to sound as if you’re paying him a compliment.”
Althea took her time with her tea and toast, while Rothhaven sat beside her, as silent and stoic as the nearby stone saint and not half so cheerful. Something truly difficult lay at the heart of his unsociable behavior.
Something painful.
“You are welcome to walk along my part of the river whenever you wish, Your Grace. I will inform my staff that you have the freedom of the property, and I’ll not disturb you on your rambles should our paths cross again.”
“I do not ramble like a truant schoolboy.”
“I ramble,” Althea retorted, finishing her tea. “I ramble because Yorkshire is breathtaking, spring is wonderful, and exercise is good for the mind. I ramble because as lovely as Lynley Vale is, I have no aspiration to spend my every waking hour entombed behind its walls. I ramble because walking the bounds of my property is one way to meet my neighbors, with whom I would be on cordial terms, if possible. I’ve seen you twice down by the river, Rothhaven. You need not lie to me about that.”
“You’ve seen Sorenson.”
“No, I have not.” The longer Althea considered what she had seen, the more convinced she was that Rothhaven had been trespassing on her land. “Today you all but led me back here to your garden. I know your stride, Your Grace, know how you move. I was pleased to think you might be relenting, even a little, in your isolation. I am not luminous or brilliant, contrary to your flattery, but I do try to be friendly.”
Rothhaven turned the full force of his gaze upon her, and Althea saw a storm raging in his eyes. Not fury, precisely, but bewilderment so intense as to fell all other emotions in its path.
“You must not…” His expression shifted and shuttered, and he studied the door through which Althea had entered the garden. He was silent for a moment, as if a voice only he could hear was presenting evidence only he could consider. “I would appreciate your discretion regarding any sightings of the odd man on foot by the river.”
“Of course. I will ask my staff to avoid going near the river at dawn and dusk. I will avoid it myself at those times if you wish.”
“I do so wish.”
Four words, but how they disappointed Althea. Rothhaven would apparently make no more exceptions for her, and her good cheer was choked by the knowledge that she had blundered yet again into a situation where she was not welcome.