The Duke's Christmas Greetings (Regency Christmas Summons Book 3) (26 page)

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Daphne rushed to say. She could feel her eyeballs bulging in her sockets; unfortunately, there was nothing she could do about it.

“It's all right.” Aaron shot her a self-deprecating grin. “He was one of the betters on her list—which is why I mentioned him first.”

“Betters? List?” Daphne choked.

Aaron nodded again. “One country squire, two footmen in my father's house, three unidentified men from her brief stay in London, a fifty-five year old smithy and of course my own brother.”

Daphne's gut clenched again, but this time in a far more painful way that sent blistering bile surging up her throat. “I'm so sorry,” she whispered. She didn't know what else to say.

“Don't be.” Something about his dismissive tone and words seemed off, but Daphne couldn't place why.

“May I ask what happened to her?” Daphne knew it wasn't her place to ask such a question, but she couldn't help it.

He held her gaze. “Parliamentary divorce.”

Now it was Daphne's turn to nod slowly. Though, or perhaps because of, born the daughter of a viscount, she and her sisters had grown up like mushrooms: always in the dark about important matters and only fed whenever necessary, which meant her knowledge of parliamentary divorces was quite slim.

“Does this change anything?”

Daphne blinked at him, her mind spinning. “Like what?”

His laugh was hollow. “Do you think differently of me? Or wish for me to take you back to the house at once?”

“Wait!” Daphne threw her hand up the way Jane always did to get her sisters to stop talking. “One question at a time.” She offered him a smile in return. “Do I think differently of you? Perhaps a little.” Noting the way his jaw was tightening again, she quickly added, “But not in a way that makes me want to demand you return me to the safety of my sister and away from your immoral clutches.”

He laughed again, only this time it was genuine and made his blue eyes sparkle.

“Tell me, my dear, if I haven't made you want to run before you're tainted by scandal, how has your opinion of me been altered?”

Aaron prayed those words didn't sound as desperate to her ears as they had to his own. Nevertheless, he was beyond curious about her answer and his whole body thrummed with anticipation of what her answer would be. Which was ridiculous, mind you. They'd only met just a few days ago and yet, he could think of nothing else but her and her opinion of him. Unbelievable.

“I can't say exactly.” She idly smoothed her thick velvet skirts.

Aaron reached his hand forward and with his fingers tipped her chin back up toward him. “Can you try?”

Her top teeth caught hold of her bottom lip, a habit he'd noticed her doing whenever she was nervous or unsure. He didn't know why exactly, but he found the act entirely erotic and wanted so badly to lean forward and kiss her. Only the memory of her earlier reaction kept his lips where polite society would declare they belonged.

“I don't know what to think,” she admitted at last. Her innocence, though refreshing, was obvious.

Shame washed over him. He was taking advantage of her innocence. “I'm a walking scandal,” he said flatly.

“But you're a vicar.”

“Yes. Only by the grace of God.” He steered the horses to turn back toward the house. “The law was on my side, but that doesn't mean everyone's opinion is,” he explained.

Beside him, Daphne fidgeted and dash it all, Aaron was a man, not a psychic and wasn't sure how to interpret her reaction. Unwilling to risk mortification—and his heart—Aaron didn't break the suffocating silence holding them captives as they returned back to the house.

Then stood paralyzed as she wordlessly accepted his help disembarking the sleigh and walked up the front steps. She stopped under that blasted sprig of mistletoe and turned toward him. "I suppose since you weren't an honorable gentleman who helped me navigate my way up these steps today, I shall impose a most torturous punishment on you."

"Oh?" he said around a throat full of gravel.

"Oh, yes." She heaved a sigh worthy of Drury Lane. "Gareth took Jane for a 'picnic' in the conservatory for luncheon today. I do believe your punishment shall be for you to escort me to and from the conservatory tomorrow."

Ignoring the nervous excitement coursing through him, he offered her a low bow, then said, “As the lady wishes.” He straightened. “Shall I plan to join you for your picnic, too?”

“Only if the gentleman wishes.”

December 23, 1816

“She's quite lovely, isn't she?” Gareth, Lord Worthe, said, coming up behind Aaron and nearly scaring the breath out of him.

“What is it about this family that likes to startle the unsuspected?” Aaron muttered. He refused to be embarrassed that he'd just been caught shamelessly staring at Daphne from across the breakfast room, and by her brother-in-law no less.

Lord Worthe shrugged. “I'm not sure I'd consider the whole family guilty of doing such a dastardly deed.” He gestured to the line that no longer existed for the sideboard in the breakfast room. “Just us clever ones.”

Aaron shook his head and reached for a plate. “An unnerving amount of confidence seems to be another common trait among your breed.”

“I'd say you have that trait, too.” Lord Worthe spooned a large helping of coddled eggs onto his plate. “Otherwise, you wouldn't have such an interest in Daphne.”

Aaron's mouth ran dry. Did Lord Worthe disapprove of Aaron's interest in Daphne? He hadn't considered it until now since the earl had had more than one opportunity to speak to Aaron privately about it. He inclined his chin. “Do we need to speak privately, my lord?”

Lord Worthe speared a pear slice from the bowl and then shook it off onto his plate. “I don't know, Lentz, do we?”

Aaron repressed a groan. What was it about the nobility that made it impossible to just say what they meant? His cousin, Lord Mulwick was the same way. It irritated Aaron to no end. “Does it displease you that I have spent so much time with Miss Daphne?” He hated the way that sounded, but quite honestly couldn't think of a better way to word it while in such a public place.

Next to him, the irritating Lord Worthe chuckled. “Not at all.” His face grew more serious, almost dark. “As long as your intentions are honorable.”

“They are, my lord.” He meant that, too. He might be more forward with her than was appropriate at times, but nobody could ever doubt that his intentions were good.

“Again, I ask you, Lentz, should we arrange a time to talk somewhere more—” he cast a pointed look over his left shoulder, a reminder they were in a room with no less than twenty other people, who thankfully were on the furthest end— “private?”

Understanding took root in Aaron's thick skull. “You mean about...” he started in a low whisper.

Lord Worthe who'd just finished filling his plate nodded once.

Aaron was a bit taken aback. Was her brother-in-law and acting guardian ready to marry her off to anyone? A sick feeling formed in his stomach. “I don't know if…” He swallowed. “It's a little soon, is it not?”

Lord Worthe shook his head. “I don't think so. I knew my wife only a matter of days before becoming betrothed.” He shrugged. “Sometimes when you know, you know.”

“Indeed.” And Aaron
did
know. Ever since he'd first seen her, he'd known something was different about her.

“Enjoy your breakfast—” the earl waggled his eyebrows— “and luncheon.” He gestured to where Lady Worthe and Daphne were seated in the back corner of the room. “I must be off to more attractive company. You're welcome to join us if you'd like.”

Aaron had planned to anyway, but to be polite accepted not that he'd be a good eating companion this morning now that he'd just as good as received Lord Worthe's blessing on a match between him and Daphne.

There was something different about Aaron today, but Daphne couldn't puzzle out what it was.

He'd seemed more quiet and reserved at breakfast. At least his voice anyway. His eyes spoke a different story. They were deep and intent as if he were lost in deep contemplation of how to move a mountain. She'd never tell him this and risk inflating his ego, but she rather liked seeing him brood. It made him more masculine somehow.

“Are you ready for our picnic?” the object of her thoughts asked, giving the small hamper in his left hand a small swing.

“Yes.” She took his arm and allowed him to lead her into the blustering outdoors. Thankfully the conservatory wasn't that far from the house and would at least have a more agreeable temperature than the front lawn. “Brrrr. Aren't you cold?”

“Of course I am, but it wouldn't be very manly of me to vocalize it, would it?”

She allowed him to open the door to the conservatory for her. “I see your point. But if your idea is to hide how cold you get out in the weather, you gave yourself away with all those furs you've been wearing.”

“Pride only goes so far.” He closed the door to the conservatory behind them, then placed his open palm on the small of her back. “Let's find a place as far away from the door as we can.”

Daphne couldn't argue with that. With the weather as atrocious as it was and the walls of Danby Castle closing in more and more each day, it would seem the only means for people to escape the duke would be to picnic in the conservatory.

Aaron steered her toward the back corner. “The sun seems brightest over here.” He set the picnic hamper down and knelt beside it. The hinges creaked when he opened the top. He pulled out a large blanket.

Daphne reached for the blanket and began spreading it out.

Aaron stood and took an end of the blanket. His fingers brushed hers and even through the layers of gloves, she could feel the heat of his body.

“Come, let's eat,” Aaron said, dropping back to his knees on the blanket. He reached for the hamper and pulled out a thermos. “Cook made a batch of turtle soup for my lady.”

“Oh,” Daphne feigned surprise. “Is someone else joining us?” She bit her lip and cocked her head to the side.

“No.” Aaron reached forward and used his thumb to release her bottom lip from the hold of her top teeth. “Only you.”

A lump of unease filled her throat. He'd made such a comment several times before, but today something about it was different. She couldn't tell if it was the look on his face or his tone or the calm in his movements or even just the intensity in his eyes. Perhaps it was all of it. She didn't know and it would be dangerous to think about it. They were...friends? No. Well, yes, they were friends. But were they more than just friends? They'd spent an unmarked amount of time, alone no less, with one another since arriving. So much so that she hadn't even
met
her other cousins. Just seen them all in passing.