Hobbes had reminded him when he left early that morning. “If you won’t wait for an appropriate hour, can you at least be respectful upon your arrival?”
“Does she deserve it?” Ronan had asked in return, more sarcastic than serious. His butler had simply sent him a look before returning in doors.
Respectful. What is that supposed to mean here?
He didn’t have a chance to say a word as Isla suddenly darted away, flighty and gone in a heartbeat. A tension in his chest fizzled without her there. The fight he was ready to take on would have to wait.
Meanwhile, the woman was turning back to him. She was the mother, Mrs. MacLaren. Babbling about how they had lost their official title but not the family name of past nobles, she rambled as she led him into the nearest sitting room.
“Tea, Your Grace?”
“I would hate to bother you.”
“Oh, it’s no bother. We haven’t much variety at this time, but I’m sure we have something. Oh, do you like it?” The woman noticed the way he eyed the fireplace. Mostly because there wasn’t a fire going, but she mistook it for the tiled framework. “This caught my eye the moment we arrived. I could stare at it all day. Why, I believe this was put in…”
Off she went, rambling again. Not his favorite sort of habit. Clenching his jaw, Ronan forced himself to sit through it.
He wouldn’t be rude. Not yet. He would prove Hobbes wrong; that was a favorite hobby Ronan once had. And besides, he wanted to save his energy for her. For Isla MacLaren, the young woman who had claimed for all and sundry that he had asked for her hand in marriage.
“There you are!”
Standing as the door to the hall widened, Ronan stared as Isla slipped back inside. Her cheeks were flushed in a way that made the freckles on her face stand out. It had been so long since he’d seen a lady with freckles. The sight broke something in him. He clenched his hat tightly, not caring if it bent.
After Isla nodded to her mother, she breathlessly took another step in but stopped to glance at him warily. Like she was wondering if he might attack. Should he? But then she moved along to sit on another chair.
“Well!” Mrs. MacLearn beamed at her. Then at him. And then around again. “Well! Isn’t this lovely? And on such a bleary day. Such a treat.”
The woman wouldn’t stop talking and Isla wouldn’t talk. Whatever words Ronan had spent a long ride preparing this morning were gone. Everything was wrong. His skin itched and the damp infested his hair. That needed to be cut again as it tickled his neck.
What did Julian say last Twelfth Night? I’ve lost my appetite for conversation? I suppose he was right after all. I cannot imagine a single thing to say.
While his hostess extolled the virtues of her silent daughter––Isla is a gifted singer and pianist, loved by her younger sisters, and a graceful dancer––he subtly checked the tall clock behind Isla. He waited for thirteen minutes. Ten minutes was too shortand thirty were too long for a proper visit, so surely thirteen would do.
He lowered his gaze to see Isla watching him with a raised eyebrow.
Perhaps this was a fool’s errand.
Standing, Ronan announced, “I must go.”
“What? Already?” Their hostess startled and stared up with wide eyes. She wrung her hands before glancing at the clock herself. “But we haven’t had the chance to serve you tea. Might we serve a tray before you take your leave? I’m certain we could have something prepared for you.”
“No, I would rather not––”
Now Isla jumped in, scrambling to her feet. “He teases, Mother. The duke wouldn’t dream of leaving so early. He has twelve minutes more free before he must be on his way. He is, after all, a gentleman.”
She spoke British English perfectly. He had expected an accent, like the one he could hear in her mother’s voice. But the words were proper and gracious and very much unlike the wild creature he had first seen in the doorway a short time ago.
And she’s rather bold.
Curiosity made him think.
“Yes, I will have a cup of tea after all,” Ronan decided.
“Certainly! I shall straightaway…” Mrs. MacLaren trailed off as she reached the door. He noted the hand pull in the corner that she didn’t even glance at. Not only was she opening doors, but was she about to prepare the tea herself? Then he noted her darting eyes, hesitant before making a decision with a slight nod. “I’ll keep the door open and expect you two to mind yourselves, please.”
Across the room, Isla inhaled sharply. But she said nothing as her mother took her leave so now only the two of them remained.
Ronan slowly turned his head around to meet her gaze. Having returned to her seat, she descended carefully back onto the cushion.
