Page 28 of The Texan Duke
Felix was absent from the parlor. With no occupation of his own, Felix was often to be found underfoot. He, like his wife, spent a great deal of time in criticism. Yet they never did anything to correct what they disliked. They simply liked to talk about it.
No doubt Felix was occupied in his only interest: his guns. He was quite a good shot, but there was no reason he shouldn’t be, having endless hours in which to practice. When he wasn’t taking one of the footmen away from his duties—in order for the man to toss glass balls as targets for him—he was cleaning one of his rifles.
Even Gavin had commented on the number of guns in his collection.
“I do trust my son-in-law is devoid of a bloodthirsty nature. Otherwise, I fear for our safety. He has enough weapons to arm a rebellion.”
She hadn’t responded. There were times when Gavin spoke only to hear himself talk. She had the feeling, occasionally, that he would have said the same words had she not been in the room.
She did miss him. Did his daughters? In the past few months she’d never heard them mention him, which was a shame. It seemed to her that a person never truly died if you remembered him and shared those memories with others.
“I’ll take His Grace on a tour of the older wing if you wish, Anise,” Elsbeth said.
For a moment she didn’t think the woman was going to answer, merely point her nose up toward the ceiling and sigh heavily as if she were annoyed to have to speak to Elsbeth.
Anise stopped pacing to look at her. “Why would you do that?”
“You evidently don’t wish to. I don’t mind.”
Anise studied her for a moment, long enough that she was growing uncomfortable.
Did they know, could they tell, how fascinated she was by the new duke? How she wished to speak with him further? She might have a chance at breakfast again, especially if he rose as early as she. But to be able to show him Bealadair would be a treat rather than a duty to be dreaded.
She kept silent, knowing that if she said anything further, it would just incite their curiosity.
When the maid arrived with her tea, she occupied herself by taking the cup and then selecting a piece of jewel cake.
“Mother will not be happy,” Anise finally said.
Elsbeth couldn’t dispute that.
“As long as the tour is done, what does it matter?” Lara said. “Why can’t he simply roam around Bealadair and find his own way?”
“Mother wants to ensure that the American gets to know all of us,” Anise said. “Make sure he knows we’re family.”
“How are we supposed to do that?” Lara asked. “Keep reminding him that we’re cousins?” She shook her head. “I’ll ensure I’m charming at dinner. I don’t have to wander all over the house.” She smiled at Elsbeth. “You can do my part. I’ll tell Mother I was feeling ill.”
Lara had been looking a little pale lately. It had been a difficult winter and for the most part, the family had remained inside the house. Of course, Bealadair was so large that it wasn’t a hardship to do so.
Elsbeth didn’t say anything. She merely nodded her agreement and sipped at her tea.
“I have the towers to show him,” Muira said. “Mother is all for me going up and down the steps. She says I need the exercise. That I’m getting as plump as a partridge. If you want to do my part, I wouldn’t object, Elsbeth.”
“And as long as you are doing everyone else’s duty, you might as well show him the old wing,” Anise said. “All those weapons and tattered flags.” She shuddered dramatically.
In for a penny, in for a pound. The duchess was going to be annoyed at her anyway—why not show Connor the whole of Bealadair? When she said as much, the three women nodded. They were well aware that Elsbeth was held to a different standard. Sometimes, even when she was doing the right thing, the duchess found a reason to be irritated.
“Who will show him the outbuildings? And the public rooms?”
“I’m sure mother has the public rooms picked out to do herself,” Anise said.
What about the old castle ruins? Someone would need to explain the history of the clan to Connor. Unless, of course, his father had already imparted that knowledge.
The duchess would say that she was expressing an errant curiosity, that she was being improper. Elsbeth suspected that if Gavin had known her thoughts he would have smiled fondly at her, patted her on the back of the hand, and said something wise and trenchant. “Of course, my dear, you’re curious about him because he’s unlike anyone you’ve ever met. Why shouldn’t we be curious about other people and other places?”
She should search the shelves in the library, scan the thousands of books there to see if there were any volumes about America. Or Texas, perhaps. Or even about Longhorn cattle.
She frankly doubted the latter and wasn’t excessively hopeful about the former, but perhaps she could find something.
