every man she spoke with, looking at them as if they were the only person in the room, asking in her soft tones about their families and their lives, as if she truly cared. After only moments in her presence, each man, young or old, all walked taller.
Her expressions revealed her true feelings when she thought no one watched; her hurt when Catherine and her parents scorned her, her amused disapproval at Catherine's flirtatiousness, her alarm when she could not remember a name right away, her sweet pleasure when others remembered her. Seeing her thoughts cross her face so plainly had been so entertaining, he wanted to sit down and watch her. Her genuine kindness continued to amaze him. She'd been compassionate to Catherine Sinclair's friend. Her reaction to the footman dropping a tray of food at the dinner party revealed no anger, no vindication, only concern for the footman's distress and embarrassment for being the focus of attention.
Cole scowled. Kindness. Bah! When did that become anything but blasé? So she was uncomplicated and wore her heart on display. So what? He did not want to marry for several more years, despite his aunt's machinations. Surely it would take another decade or so to find a suitable girl. That settled, he squared his shoulders and left the study to find Stephens.
"Oh, Cole, there you are, dear."
Cole arranged his mouth into a smile. Then when he turned and saw his aunt, his smile turned into a grin. Her turban sat crookedly upon her head.
"We were just discussing you, dear. Come into my room, I need to speak with you."
Cole grimaced. That never boded well. Perhaps someone convinced her that he'd developed an interest in their daughter. His hopes of escaping faded as he followed her to her room.
She sat at a chair near the fireplace and turned toward him. “May I offer you a drink, dear?"
Cole waved it away. “I already had a brandy downstairs."
"Now, dear, tell me. What do you think of the duke?"
"I wish I'd met him sooner."
She leaned back, pleased. “And his sister?"
Cole blinked. His sister? Oh, the redhead who giggled too much. “She's not someone I had thought of at all, Aunt."
"Cole! She is our host's sister. She likes you. Be honest, what do you think of her?"
Since this would surely be a long night, Cole found a comfortable chair. “She is unremarkable."
Aunt Livy's face fell. “Oh, that's too bad. She would be an excellent match, you know. And the duke thinks highly of you. He would probably give his consent."
He raised his brows. “Are you saying other fathers would not give their consent?"
"One never knows. And you have developed a bit of a reputation, you know."
"Good. It will scare off any promising matches."
She pulled her turban off and waved it at him. Her hair stuck out in all directions, making her appear as if she'd suffered a terrible fright. “You are heartless, you know that?"
Cole fought to keep his face straight at the comical sight. “If I ever make the mistake of forgetting, I am sure you will remind me soon enough."
"Cole, be a good boy and find someone soon. I won't live forever and I wish to meet your son before I die."
Cole frowned. “You are only sixty and in excellent health."
"Then think of your father."
"Yes. He had the misfortune of having a son like me. And Jared. Then Grant. I wouldn't wish children such as us on any respectable girl.” Cole leaned back with his hands folded behind his head and stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles.
"Perhaps your heir will be respectable. Not like you. Nor Jared."
"No, I think Jared makes even me seem a gentleman."
"Your poor mother,” she lamented.
"Have you ever considered that it might be your influence upon us, Aunt?"
She wagged her finger at him. “Come, now, Cole. My own children turned out all right. And perhaps your children will be more like Christian."
Cole grinned. The perfectly perfect Christian should have been the heir to the earldom. He was good, and
Her expressions revealed her true feelings when she thought no one watched; her hurt when Catherine and her parents scorned her, her amused disapproval at Catherine's flirtatiousness, her alarm when she could not remember a name right away, her sweet pleasure when others remembered her. Seeing her thoughts cross her face so plainly had been so entertaining, he wanted to sit down and watch her. Her genuine kindness continued to amaze him. She'd been compassionate to Catherine Sinclair's friend. Her reaction to the footman dropping a tray of food at the dinner party revealed no anger, no vindication, only concern for the footman's distress and embarrassment for being the focus of attention.
Cole scowled. Kindness. Bah! When did that become anything but blasé? So she was uncomplicated and wore her heart on display. So what? He did not want to marry for several more years, despite his aunt's machinations. Surely it would take another decade or so to find a suitable girl. That settled, he squared his shoulders and left the study to find Stephens.
"Oh, Cole, there you are, dear."
Cole arranged his mouth into a smile. Then when he turned and saw his aunt, his smile turned into a grin. Her turban sat crookedly upon her head.
"We were just discussing you, dear. Come into my room, I need to speak with you."
Cole grimaced. That never boded well. Perhaps someone convinced her that he'd developed an interest in their daughter. His hopes of escaping faded as he followed her to her room.
She sat at a chair near the fireplace and turned toward him. “May I offer you a drink, dear?"
Cole waved it away. “I already had a brandy downstairs."
"Now, dear, tell me. What do you think of the duke?"
"I wish I'd met him sooner."
She leaned back, pleased. “And his sister?"
Cole blinked. His sister? Oh, the redhead who giggled too much. “She's not someone I had thought of at all, Aunt."
"Cole! She is our host's sister. She likes you. Be honest, what do you think of her?"
Since this would surely be a long night, Cole found a comfortable chair. “She is unremarkable."
Aunt Livy's face fell. “Oh, that's too bad. She would be an excellent match, you know. And the duke thinks highly of you. He would probably give his consent."
He raised his brows. “Are you saying other fathers would not give their consent?"
"One never knows. And you have developed a bit of a reputation, you know."
"Good. It will scare off any promising matches."
She pulled her turban off and waved it at him. Her hair stuck out in all directions, making her appear as if she'd suffered a terrible fright. “You are heartless, you know that?"
Cole fought to keep his face straight at the comical sight. “If I ever make the mistake of forgetting, I am sure you will remind me soon enough."
"Cole, be a good boy and find someone soon. I won't live forever and I wish to meet your son before I die."
Cole frowned. “You are only sixty and in excellent health."
"Then think of your father."
"Yes. He had the misfortune of having a son like me. And Jared. Then Grant. I wouldn't wish children such as us on any respectable girl.” Cole leaned back with his hands folded behind his head and stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles.
"Perhaps your heir will be respectable. Not like you. Nor Jared."
"No, I think Jared makes even me seem a gentleman."
"Your poor mother,” she lamented.
"Have you ever considered that it might be your influence upon us, Aunt?"
She wagged her finger at him. “Come, now, Cole. My own children turned out all right. And perhaps your children will be more like Christian."
Cole grinned. The perfectly perfect Christian should have been the heir to the earldom. He was good, and
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