Ten Ways to Be Adored When Landing a Lord
Page 91
The duke lost his patience, turning to Nick. “You will control your female, St. John.”
“I will say it once more. Treat the lady with the respect she deserves, or I will put you through a wall. Again. And there’s no one here to expel me this time.”
His voice was low and menacing, and Isabel was rendered mute by the angry threat she heard there. The duke watched her response, then said, “Well. That seemed to do it.” Silence fell for a long moment before he added, “Lady Isabel, I should like to see my sister.”
Isabel took a deep breath, finally moving to sit behind the desk. There was something about the position that filled her with confidence. Indicating the two chairs on the opposite side of the desk, she said, “Why don’t we sit and discuss it?” She waited, feigning patience, until the two men sat. “Would you like tea, Your Grace?”
Leighton blinked once, surprised by the shift in her demeanor. “No I would not like tea. I would like to see my sister.”
“And see her you shall,” Isabel said, “but not before we have spoken.”
Leighton looked to Nick. “Is she always this dogged?”
Nick smiled. “Yes.”
“Of course you would find this amusing.” He returned his attention to Isabel. “Lady Isabel. I am aware of what you are doing here in Yorkshire.”
“Your Grace?”
“Not three minutes ago you called me a cretin. I feel confident that we can dispense with the formalities. I know you are running some colony of females here.” Neither Isabel nor Nick confirmed the idea. “I do not particularly care what you’re doing, as long as you don’t bring my sister into whatever nefariousness in which you are involved. Am I clear?”
Isabel leaned forward, placing her forearms on the cool leather blotter atop the desk. “Not entirely, no.”
“Isabel …” Nick’s tone was edged with warning. “Do not incite him.”
The words only inflamed her ire. “Do not incite him? Whyever not? What makes him think that he can barge into my house, threaten my safety and the safety of those who reside here, and simply expect me to turn over the poor girl?”
“She is my sister!” Leighton thundered.
“Sister or no, Your Grace, she arrived here of her own free will, scared and uncertain and desperate to be far from you! What would you have had me do? Turn her out? ”
“You’ve been harboring the missing sister of the Duke of Leighton! I’ve turned London inside out to find her!“
“With due respect, she was not missing to me.”
The impertinent words shocked the duke into silence. She looked at Nick then, not understanding the gleam in his eye. “Are you going to side with him?”
Nick took a long moment to consider his words. “I think it is best to remain Solomon in this particular argument.”
“Well, I’m certainly not cutting the poor thing in half.”
“A pity. That would have made it all much easier.” Nick stretched out his long legs, crossing one ankle over the other. “Do you think perhaps you would be willing to give His Grace a moment with his sister? ”
Isabel’s gaze returned to the duke. “Assuming your sister agrees, I see no reason why we cannot arrange a meeting.”
The duke dipped his head, the portrait of graciousness. “A noble beginning.”
“If you lay a finger on her, I will have you exited from this house,” Isabel said flatly, as though she were discussing the weather.
Leighton and Nick both stiffened at the words, so clearly an affront to the dignity and honor of the duke, but Isabel remained stoic under their surprised and offended gazes, standing and moving to the door.
She did not know him. Nor did she know Nick, for that matter.
A pang of sadness threatened. She set her hand to the door handle and turned back to the two imposing men standing side by side, waiting. “Georgiana is under the protection of the Earl of Reddich. The full weight of the title is behind her.”
She left then, closing the door firmly in her wake, and Leighton turned to Nick, his tone icy. “The Earl of Reddich is an earl. I am a duke. Last I checked, the hierarchy of peerage is still in effect in Yorkshire, is it not?”
Nick felt a pang of sympathy for the man. “I think you should be prepared to forget everything you have ever believed about your power as a duke. Every resident of this house would swear fealty to that woman before they would King George.”
As would I.
Leighton met his eyes. “Don’t tell me. You’re smitten with the girl.”
Nick returned to his chair, allowing the words to flow over him. Smitten. The word did not do justice for what he felt for Isabel. Not after last night, not after this morning, as she had lorded from behind this great desk that had been the seat of men for generations, not after she had fearlessly taken on one of the most powerful men in England … and won.
“Suffice to say, she has earned my respect and admiration. And perhaps more.”
Leighton’s eyes narrowed. “You’re mad to take her on, you know.”
“I do.”
“And yet?”
“I shall do it anyway.”
The duke’s nod was punctuated with the opening of the door. Nick stood again as Isabel reentered, and he was struck by her beauty; even dressed for mourning, the lovely shape of her was undeniable—tall and lithe and perfect. She met his eyes briefly, but her gaze skidded away before he could read her thoughts. Was she as consumed with the events of last night as was he?
“I will say it once more. Treat the lady with the respect she deserves, or I will put you through a wall. Again. And there’s no one here to expel me this time.”
His voice was low and menacing, and Isabel was rendered mute by the angry threat she heard there. The duke watched her response, then said, “Well. That seemed to do it.” Silence fell for a long moment before he added, “Lady Isabel, I should like to see my sister.”
Isabel took a deep breath, finally moving to sit behind the desk. There was something about the position that filled her with confidence. Indicating the two chairs on the opposite side of the desk, she said, “Why don’t we sit and discuss it?” She waited, feigning patience, until the two men sat. “Would you like tea, Your Grace?”
Leighton blinked once, surprised by the shift in her demeanor. “No I would not like tea. I would like to see my sister.”
“And see her you shall,” Isabel said, “but not before we have spoken.”
Leighton looked to Nick. “Is she always this dogged?”
Nick smiled. “Yes.”
“Of course you would find this amusing.” He returned his attention to Isabel. “Lady Isabel. I am aware of what you are doing here in Yorkshire.”
“Your Grace?”
“Not three minutes ago you called me a cretin. I feel confident that we can dispense with the formalities. I know you are running some colony of females here.” Neither Isabel nor Nick confirmed the idea. “I do not particularly care what you’re doing, as long as you don’t bring my sister into whatever nefariousness in which you are involved. Am I clear?”
Isabel leaned forward, placing her forearms on the cool leather blotter atop the desk. “Not entirely, no.”
“Isabel …” Nick’s tone was edged with warning. “Do not incite him.”
The words only inflamed her ire. “Do not incite him? Whyever not? What makes him think that he can barge into my house, threaten my safety and the safety of those who reside here, and simply expect me to turn over the poor girl?”
“She is my sister!” Leighton thundered.
“Sister or no, Your Grace, she arrived here of her own free will, scared and uncertain and desperate to be far from you! What would you have had me do? Turn her out? ”
“You’ve been harboring the missing sister of the Duke of Leighton! I’ve turned London inside out to find her!“
“With due respect, she was not missing to me.”
The impertinent words shocked the duke into silence. She looked at Nick then, not understanding the gleam in his eye. “Are you going to side with him?”
Nick took a long moment to consider his words. “I think it is best to remain Solomon in this particular argument.”
“Well, I’m certainly not cutting the poor thing in half.”
“A pity. That would have made it all much easier.” Nick stretched out his long legs, crossing one ankle over the other. “Do you think perhaps you would be willing to give His Grace a moment with his sister? ”
Isabel’s gaze returned to the duke. “Assuming your sister agrees, I see no reason why we cannot arrange a meeting.”
The duke dipped his head, the portrait of graciousness. “A noble beginning.”
“If you lay a finger on her, I will have you exited from this house,” Isabel said flatly, as though she were discussing the weather.
Leighton and Nick both stiffened at the words, so clearly an affront to the dignity and honor of the duke, but Isabel remained stoic under their surprised and offended gazes, standing and moving to the door.
She did not know him. Nor did she know Nick, for that matter.
A pang of sadness threatened. She set her hand to the door handle and turned back to the two imposing men standing side by side, waiting. “Georgiana is under the protection of the Earl of Reddich. The full weight of the title is behind her.”
She left then, closing the door firmly in her wake, and Leighton turned to Nick, his tone icy. “The Earl of Reddich is an earl. I am a duke. Last I checked, the hierarchy of peerage is still in effect in Yorkshire, is it not?”
Nick felt a pang of sympathy for the man. “I think you should be prepared to forget everything you have ever believed about your power as a duke. Every resident of this house would swear fealty to that woman before they would King George.”
As would I.
Leighton met his eyes. “Don’t tell me. You’re smitten with the girl.”
Nick returned to his chair, allowing the words to flow over him. Smitten. The word did not do justice for what he felt for Isabel. Not after last night, not after this morning, as she had lorded from behind this great desk that had been the seat of men for generations, not after she had fearlessly taken on one of the most powerful men in England … and won.
“Suffice to say, she has earned my respect and admiration. And perhaps more.”
Leighton’s eyes narrowed. “You’re mad to take her on, you know.”
“I do.”
“And yet?”
“I shall do it anyway.”
The duke’s nod was punctuated with the opening of the door. Nick stood again as Isabel reentered, and he was struck by her beauty; even dressed for mourning, the lovely shape of her was undeniable—tall and lithe and perfect. She met his eyes briefly, but her gaze skidded away before he could read her thoughts. Was she as consumed with the events of last night as was he?
