Page 50 of The Texan Duke
“They’re actuallyyourHighland cattle,” she said with a gentle smile. “Perhaps you could take a few back to Texas with you.”
That was an idea. He tucked it away to think about later.
“The duchess knows that you’re going to sell Bealadair,” she said, glancing up at him.
“Did you tell her?” he asked, surprised.
She’d spared him a difficult meeting, but he didn’t like the idea of hiding behind a woman’s skirts.
She shook her head. “I’m afraid that was Mr. Glassey’s doing.”
“I should have known he’d do that. He has more loyalty to the duchess than to me.” He shrugged. “It’s to be expected, I guess.”
She glanced at him, then away. He wanted to ask her what she was thinking. Normally, he just waited until a person spoke, but with Elsbeth he was impatient.
“You really don’t want to be duke, do you?”
“I don’t. Seems like a lot of foolishness. I can’t help the family I was born into. Maybe my great-great-great-great-grandfather did something that attracted the attention of some royal person. Maybe he got an award for it. Why should I be singled out as being special because of that?”
“You have to admit that the rest of the world doesn’t feel that way,” she said. “Most people would very much like to be a duke. They’d like all that respect.”
“But it isn’t, you see. It’s not real respect. A man earns real respect because of what he does.” He pulled his gloved hands out of his pockets and looked down at them. “What he makes with his hands. What he imagines with his mind.” He glanced at her. “Maybe even how he treats other people, especially those who can’t do anything for him. That’s real respect. That other stuff? That bowing and calling me Your Grace? That’s just either habit or something you’re taught to do. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a waste of time and speech.”
She studied him for what felt like a long time, not saying anything. He wanted to ask her if she thought he’d just spouted a bunch of nonsense. He was at that point when she nodded.
“You’re a unique man, Connor McCraight. I think your uncle would have liked you very much.”
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that comment. He didn’t know his uncle from Adam’s off ox, but Gavin was Graham’s twin so he owed the man some respect.
“Are you going to go through with that idiotic contest with Felix?”
She kept unsettling him with her questions or comments.
“It seems to me the man wants to show me what a great shot he is. Who am I not to allow him that opportunity?”
“You could just walk away. Tell him you have better things to do.”
He didn’t bother hiding his smile. “That wouldn’t accomplish anything. Men like Felix don’t stop badgering. They get something stuck in their craw and they won’t let it loose until you do what they want.”
She shook her head. “He won’t let you forget it,” she said. “When he wins.”
“He might win,” he agreed. “Then, again, he might not.”
“Are you a very good shot, Connor?”
“I didn’t bring my rifle,” he said, “but I’m passable. I do have my revolver from the war, though.”
Her face changed a little. It wasn’t all that noticeable, and if he hadn’t been watching her closely he probably would have missed it. There was a look in her eyes that resembled the expression his mother wore sometimes, a sadness that couldn’t be talked away.
He wanted to tell her that he didn’t need her to be sad on account of him, but something stopped him. Maybe he liked it a little, a woman as beautiful as Elsbeth Carew feeling something for him. Or maybe he was just feeling a little sad for himself, and it eased him to share it with someone else, someone he liked.
“What else do you have to do today?” she asked. “Would you like to see the old castle?”
“I’m going to have to, sooner or later, aren’t I? It’s part of being a duke, right?”
She nodded.
“Well, hell, we might as well see it, then.”
