Page 49 of Her Lion of a Duke
“You should know that I am still not pleased,” she continued, “and I believe you should be honest with Her Grace, but I have known you all your life. I know that you are out of sorts right now and that she will soon be cleared.”
“That is what I am hoping for, too.”
“It is what I know will happen. She is not capable of cruelty, and she would never do anything to hurt you. All that she has done this afternoon is talk about you and how she hopes that you like what she has planned. She speaks so highly of you, Your Grace.”
“And I am accusing her of trying to ruin me. Is that what you are trying to say?”
“Not at all. I know that you do not believe it is her either. You would not have changed so much if you did not like her, and if I know you, I know that you would never have decided to have that painting hung up were it not for her.”
Leonard sat up, looking at the housekeeper. It was clear to others now that he had fallen for his wife.
He wondered if Cecilia had realized it, too.
CHAPTER 18
Cecilia did not know what to make of Lord Renshaw.
She knew the sort of gentleman to expect; someone who would find fault in anything that she said if it meant making himself sound more intelligent. She had been given plenty of warnings from Leonard, and she was more than happy to take him at his word, which struck her as rather odd.
Once, she would have loved to confront such a person. She enjoyed engaging in conversation that could easily lead to a confrontation and doing what was necessary to come incredibly close to it, but not pushing it too far. She had it down to a fine art, and yet she did not want to do it during his visit.
Perhaps it was because the man sitting across from her was not who she had been expecting to see.
Lord Renshaw was a short man, red-haired and slim. His eyes were small and dark, and he seemed like he had no choice butto be quick to anger, as it was the only way she expected others would listen to him.
Part of her pitied him, because one might have expected him to have similar features to the Kingsmans, but there was no trace of them.
“You are an interesting choice of wife,” he commented as she poured him some tea. “I did not expect you.”
Cecilia held back from saying that she felt much the same.
“Oh?” she asked. “What were you expecting instead?”
“Someone smaller,” he began, eyeing her carefully. “Darker hair and dark eyes. Certainly not someone who wears ribbons. They are rather girlish, do you not think?”
Cecilia had tied her hair with a matching ribbon to boost her confidence, but at that moment, she knew that it was a mistake. She was trying to do everything in her power to prevent Lord Renshaw from finding anything to say, but with one slight error, she had inadvertently opened herself up to his criticism.
“I rather like my ribbons,” she declared. “My husband does, too. He says that they match my hair.”
“Yes, well, that has always been my cousin. I must admit, though, that I expected him to marry someone… far younger.”
“And you find ribbons childish? It is not as if I am a maid, My Lord.”
“No, but you are hardly a pretty little debutante. The Pridefields have always had expectations, and I cannot say that you match them. It is not a bad thing, Your Grace, and I hope you have not taken any offense.”
“Not at all,” she said through gritted teeth.
It would have been easy to insult him, to point out all of his failings and tell him to remember them each time he wished to find fault in others.
It was not a difficult task to compare Lord Renshaw with Leonard and see all their differences, and what made Leonard a real man and his cousin a cheap imitation, but she had made a deal. She would be cordial, and she would not rise to Lord Renshaw’s bait, no matter how badly she wanted to.
“My, these are wonderful,” he mumbled, chewing on a biscuit. “Dry, though. Could you tell your cook?”
“If you like.”
“Agreeable, aren’t you? That is not what I have heard about you. Then again, marriage changes people.”
“Gossip is hardly ever proven to be true.”
