Winning a Lady's Heart (Danby #1)(12)

She shifted in her seat.

“You said you love him?”

This again? Must he torture her?

“Yes,” she said patiently.

He drummed his fingertips on the desktop, the quiet staccato the only sound in the otherwise silent library. “My reports indicated Pembroke is a handsome chap. Is that what captured your fancy?”

Indignation swelled in Alexandra’s breast. She gritted her teeth. “I assure you I am not so empty-headed to fall in love with a gentleman simply because he is handsome.”

She tried not to be offended when Danby didn’t concur.

“You do know the previous Earl of Pembroke was a rotten bounder? I’m sure his son is not very different.”

Alexandra flew from her seat. “He is nothing like his father. Why he is hard-working and kind and—”

Danby arched an intimidating brow, bringing her words to a staggering halt as she realized she’d not only challenged the duke, but also defended a man wholly undeserving of her support.

Perhaps it was fatigue from her two and a half days of travel at a breakneck speed. Perhaps it was the presence of her grandfather. But all energy seeped from her and she slid into her seat. Alexandra closed her eyes and wished, for the thousandth time, that some mistake had been made, that Nathan was not a scoundrel, and that her father had been wrong.

“Are you finished, Alexandra?”

She nodded.

“You’ve always been something of a counter.”

She blinked. “I’m sorry?”

Danby waved his hand. “As in numbers. Certainly an odd habit, but no need to apologize for it.”

Alexandra couldn’t help it; she dropped her head into her hands and rubbed her eyes in weary consternation. Was there anything he didn’t know?

“I pride myself on knowing everything there is to know about my offspring,” he said in response to her silent question.

If she weren’t so blasted frustrated by his uncanny ability to anticipate her questions before she even vocalized them, she could admit there was something almost sweet about those words…well, minus the way he referred to them all as offspring. It put her in mind of his neatly-kept, well-organized, prized stables.

Seeing as Danby’s words were more statement than question, they didn’t merit a response. However, Alexandra chose to respond anyways. “Yes, I’m a counter.”

He placed his elbows on the desktop and leaned forwards. “Hardly a habit to be so grim about. It is not as though you are drinking and gambling like that cousin of yours.”

Alexandra passed a hand over her mouth to smother a laugh. With a vast number of cousins, Danby’s words could be applied to any one of them.

“Uh, thank you, I think, Your Grace.”

“Just stating a fact, gel. Definitely another skill you didn’t get from that father of yours.”

“No, you are correct, Your Grace.”

He snorted. “Of course I’m right. Your mother was always the one with a head for figures. Too bad she wasn’t born a lord.”

Alexandra’s head was beginning to spin, and not from fatigue, but rather the odd direction Danby’s course had meandered down. She couldn’t quite determine why he should make mention of her peculiar little habit.

“Tell me, Alexandra,” Danby asked, interrupting her silent musings. “Someone who counts as much as you do must have counted a host of reasons Pembroke was worthy of you.”

And that was not the direction she’d thought the duke had been taking her down. Her breath whistled between her teeth, and she clasped her hands, clutching them to her stomach to stifle the pain.

“You cannot possibly wish me to enumerate the reasons I loved—”

“Love.”

“The Earl of Pembroke,” she spoke over his interruption. Duke be damned, she’d run out of patience with the steady line of questioning from him and his offspring.

“I’m not asking, gel.”

I’m demanding.

She sighed. His point had been made. So be it. How much more could it hurt to tick off her list of reasons she’d fallen in love.

“I can enumerate a thousand and two reasons I love His Lordship. He knows I loathe being called Alexandra—” and instead called me, my love— “when most don’t even know I have any preferences. He taught me to play hazard because I asked it. He makes me laugh. He humors my love of poetry. He has taken to counting—”

The duke rang for a servant, interrupting her recitation. She fell silent. A short knock sounded at the door.

“Enter,” Danby barked.

The door opened and she craned her head over her shoulder to see the butler enter, bearing a silver tray with a calling card.

“Show my next guest in.”

Milne nodded and hurried off to do Danby’s bidding. Alexandra was mildly curious to know which poor relation had arrived to face the duke’s displeasure—mayhap one of the gambling and drinking ones.

She waited, like a child spared from practicing her letters, for Danby to request a continuation of her list. Instead he rubbed his jaw line.

There was another knock.

This time Alexandra didn’t turn around to see who entered.

“Come in, come in,” Danby called, jovial towards the sudden guest. He waved the individual over.