Chapter 3

Johnathan was glad he kept his gloves on because he was certain his palms were sweating profusely. Somehow, he managed to keep his voice level as he greeted the viscount and was introduced to his family, but it didn't quell the anxiousness coursing through him as he led them indoors.

"You must forgive me, my lord," he stated the moment they were all in the foyer. "I shall be the only one to greet you tonight. I'm afraid the rest of my family has already retired to bed."

"I cannot blame you, Your Grace," Lord Sutton stated. "It is we who should apologize for arriving at such a late hour. We found ourselves rather…inconvenienced this morning."

Was it him or had Lord Sutton just shot a glare at his son? Johnathan didn't mind looking at the younger gentleman in time to see a sheepish look come over his face. He did, however, have a problem with looking at Miss Agnes.

She was utterly gorgeous. She had brown hair curled and tucked to the back of her head with a pair of dark brown eyes. She had a smattering of freckles adorning her cheeks, with a slightly cleft chin and perfect pink lips. Johnathan hated himself for noticing, just as he hated how abrupt he had been with her earlier. She hadn't said much to him by way of greeting but the way she narrowed her eyes at him made him think that he might have unknowingly put his foot in his mouth. He didn't dare look her way but he was very aware of her presence. He saw the way her head tilted as she took in the surroundings. He noticed how she paid little attention to the conversation at hand, as if she was far more interested in the floors beneath her.

"Had it not been for the late hour," Johnathan remembered to say, "I would have offered to give you all a tour of the castle."

"That would have been wonderful," Lady Sutton spoke up. She clung to her husband's arm and neither one of them seemed intent on pulling away. "Had it not been for how tired I am, perhaps I would have insisted."

"Be happy that she is," Lord Sutton spoke up, a humorous glint in his eye. "She can be quite persistent when she wants something."

Johnathan told himself to laugh. He felt so on edge that he might have forgotten.

"Then for now, allow me to show you to your chambers," he said. "Mrs. Adams?"

Mrs. Adams, whom he knew had been lingering nearby, appeared next to him.

"Kindly show Lord and Lady Sutton to their chambers." He turned to the viscount and viscountess. "Would you like…"

"Separate chambers?" Lady Sutton finished with a laugh. "Certainly not. One would do."

"Perhaps one far away from everyone else's," Mr. Parsons spoke up. He still had the casual demeanor of a child who had not yet seen the world.

"Ignore him," Miss Agnes stated. "He seems to forget his manners when he's just woken up from his nap."

Johnathan only spared her a glance. He wouldn't allow himself any more than that. He didn't like the way his heart skipped a beat whenever their eyes met.

He nodded but didn't miss the slight frown that touched her brows at his slight dismissal. He hadn't meant to do that. Johnathan tried not to sigh at his slip-up.

Instead, he signaled for two of the footmen, who had been carrying their luggage in, to escort Mr. Parsons and Miss Agnes to their rooms. The weight pressing on his chest grew lighter as he watched the entire family be led away from the foyer. His gaze lingered on Miss Agnes' retreating form, unable to keep himself from admiring how straight and poised she walked, clutching her skirt in her hands. He didn't take his eyes off her until she was out of sight. Even when she was gone, his eyes lingered, his mind drifting back to when he'd stopped her from falling in the driveway.

Johnathan shook his head suddenly to banish the thought. It wouldn't do to pay more attention than was necessary to the viscount's eldest daughter. She was important, certainly. But she was meant for another.

Because she was to be his brother's betrothed, Johnathan had to banish these thoughts and fast.

* * *

The room she'd been brought to was marvelous, large enough to house a small family if the space was used correctly. The entrance led directly into a living space, with a door veering off to the left for the actual bedchamber. There was yet another door within the room that housed a tub and chamber pot with an assortment of towels and sweet-smelling soaps. Despite how late it was, the tub was full of steaming hot water.

The footman had been replaced with a maid when she arrived at her chambers.

"I will not be in need of your services tonight," she told the maid.

Her eyes went wide with surprise. "But, Miss, I was instructed to assist you with getting settled in."

"I will be fine on my own, thank you." Agnes offered her a consoling smile but the maid's worried frown only deepened.

"Perhaps I should help you with your bath before I leave?" the maid suggested but Agnes was already shaking her head.

"I assure you that I will be fine. I am more than capable of doing it on my own." Because the maid did not seem convinced, she added, "And truth be told, I wish to be alone."

The maid thinned her lips, but at last she nodded. "I understand, Miss. Please, don't hesitate to ring for me if you need my assistance."

"I won't. Goodnight."

Agnes smiled as the maid walked away, not releasing the breath she'd been holding until she was already a few feet away. She would have felt rather guilty denying the maid her sleep just because she longed for a bath.

It wouldn't stop her from actually having the bath, though. She stripped carefully, taking care not to tear her underclothes or tangle the strings of her dress.

She spent enough time in the tub for the water to grow cold and once she was done, she rummaged through her luggage to find her nightdress before sliding between the cool sheets of the four-poster bed.

The duke was certainly wealthy. It showed in every inch of the castle, from the intricate molding of the ceiling to the polished floors to the thick and soft bedding. It was a pity he was so rude.

She sighed, closing her eyes and relaxing. Sleep claimed her quickly but not before she thought of her brief interaction with the duke as much as ten times.

The clink of glass was what woke her the next morning. Agnes pried her heavy lids open to see the same maid from last night setting out her perfume bottles.

Anges released a low groan as she stretched. "Good morning," she mumbled.

"Miss!" the maid yelped, nearly dropping the bottle in her hand. She whirled to face Agnes with eyes as wide as saucers. "Did I wake you?"

"You did," Agnes said, yawning sleepily behind her hand. "But it is fine. I am to wake anyhow."

That only flustered her even more. She quickly set the perfume down, clasping her hands before her and bowed her head. "Forgive me, Miss Agnes. I shan't let it happen again."

Agnes sat up, her hair tumbling down her shoulders. The mornings always felt as if she was emerging from murky waters, her mind a fog and her eyesight blurry. She couldn't help squinting at the maid and the other woman flinched at the look.

"What is your name?" Agnes asked her.

The maid hardly met her eyes. "Gemma, Miss."

Thank you, Gemma, for unpacking my luggage. And I assure you, you needn't worry about waking me in the morning. Had you not, I might not have gotten out of bed until well after midday. That would be quite rude to our hosts, I'm sure." She said the words lightly but Gemma still hadn't met her eyes. Agnes sighed. "Shall we get started with getting ready then?"

"Yes, Miss."

As if grateful for something to do, Gemma got into action. Any attempt Agnes made at conversation after that was met with stuttered sentences and an averted gaze.

Was this how all the servants acted? Agnes wondered if that had anything to do with the duke.

She kept her questions to herself as she got dressed for breakfast. As she made her way down to the dining room, led by the maid, Agnes tried to keep her curiosity to a minimum. There would be enough time for exploring later, she assumed.

Everyone else was already there. There were two new people seated on one side of the table and yet Agnes hardly paid them much mind. The moment she stepped through the doors, her eyes met the duke's.

She forgot her manners. Every bit of ladylike grace vanished from her mind the moment he captured her gaze. He paused in his eating as if he too was taken by the sight before him.

How in heaven's name did he become even more handsome than last night? The duke looked away, resuming his eating. Agnes felt a chill wash over her at the slight dismissal. Perhaps to others, it did not seem like anything had happened. But the tense moment between them had not only gone noticed by her, had it?

Agnes raised her chin, approaching the unoccupied chair between her brother and her mother. "Good morning, everyone," she greeted. "I hope I am not too late."

"You are if you allowed me to be at the table before you," Paul said instantly, giving her a cheeky grin.

Agnes didn't spare him a glance, primly placing her napkin on her lap as she said, "You offend yourself more with that statement than you do me," she said. "I shall give you some time to think of a better response."

Paul scowled at her but she was saved from the inevitable bickering when her mother cleared her throat slightly. "Agnes, you have not yet been introduced to Lord Christopher Harken and the Lady Claymore, the dowager duchess, have you?"

"I have not." Agnes cursed herself inwardly for having forgotten that there were two strange faces in the room.

Heavens, have I forgotten the reason I am here in the first place?

She pasted a smile onto her face as she looked at the gentleman sitting next to the dowager duchess. He was quite like his brother, the duke, though far lankier with a leaner face. Not to mention the fact that he looked as if he was about to empty his stomach at any moment.

This was the man she was supposed to marry. He was handsome enough, she supposed, though not as devastatingly so as the duke. Agnes blinked, banishing the thought as quickly as it came. She should not be comparing her intended to that of another man. Even if it felt as if that man's eyes were boring into her at that very moment.

"It is nice meeting you, Lord Christopher," she greeted politely.

Lord Christopher gave her a weak smile, then winced. He rubbed his temple in a half-hearted attempt to cover it up. "Likewise, Miss Parsons."

"And it is a pleasure meeting you, Your Grace," Agnes finished, looking at the dowager duchess.

Her beauty could not go unnoticed. Yet despite the attractive style of her hair and her pleasant features, she looked utterly without life.

"I suppose I am too," Her Grace murmured. She stared listlessly at the table, nibbling on a piece of toast.

There was an uncomfortable beat of silence before His Grace cleared his throat. "Did you all enjoy your first night's rest at Claymore Castle?"

"Oh, quite so, Your Grace," Mary answered chirpily. "I must admit that it took quite a bit of effort getting out of bed this morning. You must tell me from where you procure your bed sheets."

"I shall have my housekeeper let you know," he said. "I'm afraid I have not paid much attention to such details."

"Nor would I have expected you to," Solomon spoke up. Agnes wouldn't be surprised if he had his hand under the table holding his wife's. They'd never been able to keep their hands off each other. "Such details do not concern men, usually."

"I suppose so," Mary sighed. "I shall have to add it to the list of other things I wish to ask the housekeeper about then."

"Perhaps I could assist you with anything you would like to know?" the duke offered. "If it is in regard to the castle, I may be able to appease your curiosities. This residence has a rather rich history, after all."

Agnes didn't look at the duke as much as she paid attention to his words. He was rather polite and approachable this morning it seemed. Not nearly as abrupt as he had been last night. Though perhaps that had only been reserved for her.

"Brother, please," Lord Christopher groaned, pressing the heel of his hand against his temple. "I hope you do not intend to bore our guests with such things."

The duke's jaw twitched. It was slight, quick, and hardly noticeable. Agnes would have missed it if she hadn't been staring at him so intently, despite her better judgment.

"Only if they wish to hear of it," His Grace said after a moment, long enough to make her know that he was choosing his words carefully.

"I doubt anyone would want to know of such things," Mr. Harken grumbled. He reached for his cup and took a deep gulp of whatever was inside.

The silence that ensued afterward was strife with tension. Agnes looked from Lord Christopher's obliviousness of his brother's growing ire, to the way the duke clenched his jaw, to Mr. Chistopher slumping his chair, to His Grace's left eye twitching.

She watched as the duke swallowed his rise of emotions and said in an even tone, "You must forgive my brother's crassness. He is feeling rather unwell, you see."

"I'm sure your brother can speak for himself," Agnes said before she could stop herself.

The duke's thick, dark brows raised slightly in surprise. Even Lord Christopher sat up a bit straighter, clearly not expecting to hear such a thing.

"I did not mean to imply that he did not," the duke said at last.

"If that is the case, you have failed. Though if the words were said out of care, then I suppose I can understand."

This time, His Grace's brows dipped all the way down into a frown.

Agnes looked away from him, focusing her attention on the gentleman who deserved it. He was the reason she was here after all.

"Please, sir, you needn't force yourself to be here if you are feeling unwell. I'm sure no one will mind if you take some time to recover."

Lord Christopher glanced at his brother, then back at Agnes. "That is quite kind of you, Miss?—"

"Kind but unnecessary," the duke cut in, his voice cold. "Christopher would have remained in bed if he did not deem himself well enough to break his fast with us."

"Can you not see how close he looks to bringing up his food?" Agnes challenged, raising a brow at the duke. "He is positively green."

"Rather choice words for a gentleman who has not taken a single bite of food since he sat down."

"That alone should prove my point."

"Or rather, it proves that I know my brother far better than you do."

"Or so you would like us to believe, I am sure."

The duke was not able to keep the scowl off his face at this point. For every retort Agnes gave, his frown dipped lower. And for every response he sent back, she felt her hackles rise. She did not make it a habit of arguing with people she hardly knew. While she enjoyed friendly debates, going back and forth with a man she'd just met hardly seemed fruitful. And she was defending someone she did not know either, even if that someone might be her future husband.

Yet she could not help herself. She glared at the duke and he glared right back at her, clenching his fist so tightly that it almost shook atop the table. No one spoke. She didn't like this at all. This was not what she had planned. He was not what she'd planned.

She would have to stay away from him, she decided. It shouldn't be that difficult, should it?