She must have heard something about him before his arrival, because she didn’t like him. He’d felt her disdain the moment he touched her hand, smoothing his thumb over the delicate bones and slender fingers that had fit into his own so perfectly.
But though she didn’t know him, she’d darted her gaze away, lips pursed with displeasure. So it was evident she did not approve of her brother’s choice of man of affairs. It made him wonder how he had been described to her by her brother or by Roseford. He might have to explore that more closely in order to know where he truly stood.
“And so what do you think of it?” Brighthollow asked as he stepped up next to Morgan and the two observed the big manor house together.
Morgan nodded. “It’s a fine seat, Your Grace. Which I’m certain you already know.”
Brighthollow chuckled. “I am biased, I suppose. As my wife said, you’ll be given time to settle in. There will be a long period of transition, for your sake and for my own.”
“Why for yours?” Morgan asked.
Brighthollow shrugged. “I’ve run my own estate for a long time. Letting go will not be easy, though it is necessary. My time is required elsewhere.”
Morgan followed the duke up the stairs and into the foyer. There was a bustle of activity going on around them, but his focus was entirely on the retreating back of Lady Elizabeth as she and the Duchess of Brighthollow entered a parlor just off the foyer.
“Your sister is older than I assumed, based on your description of her during our travels.”
Brighthollow’s brow furrowed slightly. An interesting tell, given that it was clear he adored his sister. But something troubled him about the subject. Morgan wondered what, exactly.
“I suppose that is an old habit. Although Lizzie is twenty, I still sometimes see her as the little girl I raised.” His smile was soft. “But don’t let her know I said it. She wouldn’t want to be seen as a child.”
“Ah, if you raised her, I suppose that makes sense,” Morgan said, filing the information away with all the rest, as was his habit. “And do I answer to Lady Elizabeth, as well as to you and the duchess?”
Brighthollow seemed taken aback by the question, and for a moment he said nothing. Then he responded, “I…suppose. Yes. If Lizzie needed something you could provide, then yes, you would answer to her.”
“Hmmm,” Morgan murmured in what he hoped was a disinterested tone.
Certainly, his new employer wouldn’t care for the thoughts Morgan was having about Lady Elizabeth. An innocent like her was lovely, for sure, but out of his reach for a variety of reasons.
“I doubt she would ask for your help, truth be told,” Brighthollow continued with a deeper frown. “Although…” He seemed to consider something for a moment, then shook his head. “No. My sister is shy. You needn’t trouble yourself with her. If she requires anything, Amelia and I are the ones who will provide it. You can focus on a great many other duties.”
“Of course,” Morgan said.
Brighthollow motioned for him to follow. “Now they have taken your trunks up to your chamber. I’ll find someone to escort you there and allow you a few moments to gather yourself.”
Morgan nodded his thanks, but as Brighthollow called for a servant, his mind kept going back to bright blue eyes. For a man drawn to trouble, he could recognize it when he saw it. And now he’d have to fight his impulses if he didn’t want to create even more of it for himself.
Lizzie paced down the long hallway, hands clenched at her sides and body on high alert. She felt wound too tight and had been this way for hours, since the arrival of Morgan Banfield into her home. No, not arrival. Invasion. That was the right term. He had invaded like a Viking, fitting considering the beard, and then he’d…winked at her.
She shook her head. Oh, how she hated that one man, one stranger, one foolish little flit of an eyelid she couldn’t get out of her mind, could affect her so. It was too much power for someone else to hold over her. And it was too much like the terrible past.
She huffed out a long breath as she neared the library and tried to find her focus. Here, at least, she would find peace. She always did.
Except as she entered the large room, with its high bookshelves and sweet little nooks and crannies for reading, she came to a sharp halt. The very man who had troubled her thoughts for hours was standing in her ultimate sanctuary, a book perched in his long, lean fingers. He had shed his jacket at some point, leaving him in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and an intricately stitched waistcoat that fit his broad chest far too well.
His back was to her, so she had an opportunity to escape. Only she didn’t. Instead she froze as he reached up to casually place the book back on the shelf an arm’s length above him. His shoulders flexed against the white linen fabric of his shirt.
Once he had replaced the book, he turned and flashed a smile at her that revealed even, white teeth. It was not as if he was surprised to see her, he seemed to have known she was there gaping at him all along.
“Good afternoon, Lady Elizabeth,” he drawled.
She shifted. He was being nothing but polite to her, and she still wished to run in the other direction. It was very rude to be that way when he’d done nothing directly wrong. She was just judging him by another man with another face. It was unfair and she knew it.
“G-good afternoon, Mr. Banfield,” she managed to squeak out. She took a cautious step farther into the library. “Are you settling in well?”
He nodded as he looked around with a smile. “It is a fine estate, which your brother told me I could explore at my leisure. I was making the attempt when I was waylaid here. It is the best room of the house so far.”
She blinked, for she agreed about the assessment. She didn’t like being of a mind with him. It felt…a little like a trap. She cleared her throat. “The, er, music room is another of my favorite haunts.”
Now why had she told him that? He certainly couldn’t care about her tiny little interests. Nor should she offer them to him as if he were anything more than a stranger.
But to her surprise, his eyes lit up. “Ah, I have not yet found the music room. I assume you play pianoforte?”
She nodded. “I do.”
“I have been known to play a tune or two, myself,” he said with another smile. This one felt a bit more genuine.
She stared at him. He liked to read and to play piano? Those were not the activities she would have guessed were the favorites of such a man.
She pursed her lips at the connection she hadn’t wished to find and changed the subject. “You are Robert’s brother.”
His brows lifted. “Yes. Robert. So informal with the great Duke of Roseford?”
Heat filled her cheeks at the observation and she dropped her gaze to the floor. “Well, I’ve known him almost all my life, so perhaps I am a little more familiar than I normally would be with a duke,” she explained softly. “He and my brother are very close.”
“Yes.” There was a flicker of something…dark in his stare. Something a little sad. Then he masked it and smiled. As if this were all a game. For the first time, she noticed he had a dimple beneath those whiskers. “And your brother tells me I also work for you, my lady.”