The Duke Laughed at Her Old Plow Horse — She Was the Only Rider Still Mounted at Dusk

The Duke Laughed at Her Old Plow Horse — She Was the Only Rider Still Mounted at Dusk

Chapter 10

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Eleanor entered a moment later having shed her dirt-stained riding jacket. She looked smaller without it. More vulnerable. But the iron in her spine remained. She moved to a decanter on a side table that held a small amount of amber liquid.

Her hands were steady as she poured two glasses. She handed one to him. Her fingers brushed his for a fleeting second. Her skin was cold. "Please," she said, gesturing to a worn leather armchair by the fire.

He sat. The chair groaning in protest. He felt large and out of place in his fine clothes. An intruder in this sanctuary of faded gentility. She did not sit but stood by the mantelpiece.

One hand resting upon it as if for support. She stared into the flames. "My cousin," she began. Her voice low and even. He believes that a woman is incapable of managing an estate.

He believes I will fail. He's doing everything in his power to ensure it. Alister swirled the brandy in his glass. The warmth from the fire was beginning to seep into his bones. "What I saw today was not failure, Miss Vance. " She gave a short, mirthless huff of breath.

What you saw today was desperation. Julian has allies, men of business, lawyers. They challenge every decision. They frighten the tenants. They want to prove neglect.

They want to prove Oakhaven is no longer productive, as my grandfather's will stipulates. She finally turned to look at him, her gaze direct, unblinking. The firelight caught in her eyes, turning them the color of moss and gold. He told me I would be a laughingstock. And I was.

Your Grace laughed. It was not an accusation. It was a simple statement of fact laid bare between them. The memory of it burned in his throat, more potent than the brandy. He met her gaze.

He would not lie. He would not prevaricate. She deserved more than that. "Yes," he said, his voice quiet. I did.

And it was an act unworthy of a gentleman, and certainly unworthy of you. For that, I offer my sincerest apology. She held his gaze for a long moment, then gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. She had not expected the apology, he realized. She had only expected the truth.

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The Duke Laughed at Her Old Plow Horse — She Was the Only Rider Still Mounted at Dusk

14 Part