The Gift of Love (The Book of Love #8) - Meara Platt Page 0,59

are.”

The butler rolled in a tea cart, and shortly thereafter, the duke and his daughter hurried in. The duke had a genuinely warm smile for Eloise. “Lady Dayne, a pleasure to see you.”

“I hope you don’t mind my accompanying Miss Farthingale. Of course, she could not ride over on her own.”

“Not at all, I’m delighted you are here. Would you care to join us in a tour of the house? We’ve promised to show Miss Farthingale around, and I’d rather it were done before our other guests arrive.”

“Dear me, no. My knees are quite creaky today. I shall sit here and enjoy my cup of tea. Do not mind me. I am perfectly fine waiting right here.”

The duke frowned. “No, that won’t do at all.” He turned to his butler. “Reems, summon Mr. Dawson. He shall keep you company in our absence.”

Dahlia tried not to show her curiosity. Dawson. This was the man Lady Melinda loved. He hurried in soon after and greeted them politely. “Lady Dayne. Miss Farthingale.”

She had no time to engage him in conversation. They were given only a brief introduction before the duke and his daughter led her away.

Still, it was enough for Dahlia to form a first impression. He was not at all what she’d expected. He was tall and slender, had a swarthy complexion, and wore spectacles. He walked with a pronounced limp. He had dark hair, light green eyes that were jarring against his otherwise dark complexion, and a serious air. A nice-looking man, but he did not have a commanding presence. If anything, he was shy and retiring, not at all the sort who would have a bevy of young ladies fluttering around him or ever feel comfortable having a bevy flutter around him.

“Dawson,” the duke said in a commanding but respectful tone as they walked out, “keep Lady Eloise company. We won’t be long.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” He did not look at Lady Melinda.

Nor did she look at him.

They were good at hiding their feelings.

Dahlia thought it very sad. Indeed, truly a shame. She did not believe the duke would ever permit his daughter to marry his estate manager. But she kept her opinions to herself. There was always hope where love was involved. Perhaps Mr. Dawson was somehow distantly related to a nobleman. She would do a little digging and see what she could turn up.

Unfortunately, it was more than likely he was the by-blow of a nobleman and a young beauty from one of the islands. Perhaps Jamaica, or somewhere else exotic on the other side of the world.

“The house is stunning,” Dahlia said when the tour came to an end.

The duke nodded. “It is in desperate need of rejuvenation.”

His daughter did not look at all pleased. “What would you have Miss Farthingale change, Father?”

He studied his daughter for a long moment. “I’ll leave the decision to you, my dear. You and Miss Farthingale can decide what to do.”

Lady Melinda looked so stiff it was a wonder her back had not cracked in two. “And if I wish to leave everything as it is?”

“I think it will be a mistake, Melinda.” Her father spoke kindly, but Dahlia sensed the determination behind his words. His daughter would not win this standoff.

“Lady Melinda, might I suggest we take one room to start. Any room you’d like. Your mother’s touch is everywhere in this house. I think what your father is saying is that he’d also like to have a little of you here as well. Even if you decide to do nothing more than the one room, it is still something that he can look upon as a thing of pride as he thinks of you.”

Lady Melinda cast her a wry smile. “Very well, Miss Farthingale. You have convinced me. One room.” She put a finger to her lips as though seriously contemplating her options. “If I am to choose, then it must be my father’s study.”

The duke arched an eyebrow, not at all pleased. “Melinda, this is where Dawson and I conduct our work. Can you not choose another? It will be very disruptive.”

“No, Father. This is where you spend most of your time. I want you to think of me whenever you look up from your ledgers. You were the one who pushed for this. Will you not honor it now?”

He clenched his jaw in obvious displeasure. “No. My study it is. When do you plan to start? Dawson and I will have to move to another room while