“It is indeed,” he replied. “One of the best painters of the era created it. He also painted a portrait of Queen Caroline.”
“Is this your family? she asked, pointing to the portrait.
He nodded. “Yes, my father, my mother, and my sisters. You will meet my sisters soon.
She looked back at the portrait, and he examined her profile. Her nose sloped slightly at the end. As she examined it, she pushed her chin forward, which gave her features a sharper angle. She was beautiful—there was no denying that.
“You do not look much like them,” she observed. Immediately, his tender thoughts about her appearance vanished, and he pulled his shoulders back, standing straighter as if to assert his position.
“Do I not?” he asked, slightly apprehensive, as he sensed the shift in her expression.
“I did not mean for it to be insulting. Just that you must’ve taken after your grandparents,” she replied.
“I am not insulted. Queen Victoria does not resemble either of her parents, either, I’m told. It is not unusual,” he said. “Perhaps you should read novels other than romance to broaden your horizons.” Was he being too defensive? Perhaps, but he would show her no weakness. He would give her no reason to think there was anything amiss when it came to his station. He had worked long and hard to become as influential as he was, and he was not going to let anything stand in his way.
He had done too much to secure his position. His father had done too much.
“I am rather well-read,” she fired back. “My father had one of the largest libraries in England at Pembroke, and once I receive my inheritance, I shall have a great many of those books. It is written so in my inheritance papers. Although, of course, any books I might have received are now your property.”
He pressed his lips together and studied her before replying.
“It is true that everything you inherit will belong to me, as I am a man and you are not. But I would not presume to take possession of anything that is personally yours or anything to which you have an attachment. As for your books, you may choose any of our three libraries and fill them with as many books as you like. Any that you do not like can be moved to the other libraries.”
He shrugged. “Now, since we are discussing things that belong to you, I wanted to let you know that when I returned, I saw your horse, Ambrose, being delivered. He should be in soon.”
At once, all strain melted away from her, and her lips parted, forming an ‘O’ shape. He noted the soft redness on her lips.
“May I go see him now?” she asked eagerly.
“Your Grace,” he said, “you may go wherever you wish, whenever you wish, as much as you like. As much as you might like to pretend that this is a prison, it is not. It is your home. However, I might suggest that I accompany you to the stables so you do not inadvertently stumble on another chamber you do not recognize and should not enter.”
She puckered her lips and stared at him, clearly contemplating a sharp reply. Yet the prospect of seeing her horse evidently disarmed her, and he was pleased when she simply nodded and followed him out of the study.
CHAPTER16
Charity
Charity followed him with a growing sense of unease settling within her. She should have known that he might return from his meeting with his cousin. She had no idea what the pattern of his day was. Therefore, it was foolish to think that he would be out simply because her father had always been out during the day.
And then she had drawn attention to the painting. Why had she done that? Then again, why had he grown displeased?
There was certainly no cause to be upset simply because she had said that he did not look like his parents. As he'd said, many people didn’t. While she resembled her mother, she did not resemble her father at all. Was he angry about something else? He’d looked at her so intently.
“The stable is over yonder,” he said. His voice was warmer and kinder than it had been back in his study. As they neared the stable, she found her heart pounding and her thoughts drifting away from Eammon and their encounter in the study and toward her reunion with Ambrose.
The telltale scent of the stable penetrated her nose immediately as they approached.
“Good afternoon, Hastings,” Eammon greeted a man she assumed was the stable master. “Has the new Shetland pony arrived, then? I thought I’d see him come in on my return.”
“Yes, we just put him up in his box. He’s already making friends with?—”
“He is here?” Charity chimed.
Eammon smiled at this. “It certainly appears so. Hastings, may I introduce my wife, the new Duchess of Leith?”
The stable master immediately pulled his hat off his head and bowed deeply. “Your Grace, of course. It is a pleasure to meet you. I had heard that you had arrived. And I will say, Ambrose is a fine little horse. Very sturdy. Has he been ridden?”
“Yes, when I was a girl, I rode him. But I am afraid I am too tall now, though I am not very tall at all.” She knew she sounded woeful as she said this, and it was true, she longed to ride him again. Not only that, she longed for the days when she had been a child and the best part of her day had been the times her father had taken her and her sister out to see the horses.
