Lord Claybrook seemed kind, and he wouldn’t force her to go back to England with him. He had said he wanted to stay within the Holy Roman Empire, as he would inherit the nearby estate of his uncle, the Earl of Keiterhafen. If she married Lord Claybrook, she could stay close to her family.
As a duke’s daughter, it was her duty to marry as advantageously as possible. How spoiled she would seem if she ignored her parents’ wishes by refusing to accept a suitor who would advance their family’s holdings and bring about peace and harmony to the people whose lives depended upon it.
She had already delayed the process so long, her younger sister was now of age to marry. It didn’t seem too much to ask, however, that she be allowed enough time to get to know him. She must first believe she could love him and that he loved her. But if she could not find a good reason not to accept Lord Claybrook, he seemed her best choice.
Lord Claybrook, she realized with a guilty feeling, had stopped talking and was staring at her with a look of frustration on his face. Oh dear. She had insulted him by not listening to his long diatribe on hunting.
“Forgive me, Lord Claybrook. My mind wandered. What were you saying?”
“I was telling you about my hunting dogs. I thought you were interested in learning about me, Lady Margaretha. But I shall not bore you any longer.”
“Oh no! You mustn’t think — ” That she wasn’t interested in his hunting exploits? She couldn’t lie. “I was rude, and I hope you will forgive me. I do want to learn more about you. Most people complain that I talk too much, and I didn’t want to annoy you with too much chatter.” She smiled, hoping to return him to a good humor.
Lord Claybrook smiled back and reached out a hand to her. Straight white teeth shone among his good-looking features — hard-planed chin and cheekbones, a prominent brow, and dark brown eyes that were perfectly spaced. Her maids all told her he was her most handsome suitor yet.
Margaretha allowed him to take her hand, and he raised it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “You are much too beautiful to off end, Lady Margaretha. Of course, I must not expect a gentle lady to be interested in hunting. Although many ladies do go out hunting with their men. But your delicate nature becomes you.” Still holding her hand, he bent to kiss it again.
Perhaps she should be moved, at least a little, by his gesture, but it didn’t make her heart flutter in the least, the way Britta said hers did when Gustaf smiled at her. But perhaps it wasn’t Margaretha’s way to be moved to flutterings of the heart by a man’s smile or kiss. Her mother said love grew out of mutual respect and friendship. So far, Lord Claybrook hadn’t given her any reason to not respect him. Unless she considered his irrational choices in clothing.
Just then her father, Duke Wilhelm, and her eldest brother, Lord Valten, came into the Great Hall wearing leather tunics, leather breeches, and shoulder capes — their usual riding attire.
“Shall we hunt?” Lord Claybrook asked them, an eager glint in his eyes.
“Perhaps tomorrow,” her father answered him. “I shall ask my falconer and the dogs’ handler to be ready in the morning. For now, I thought we could take a ride around the town.”
“It would be my pleasure, your Grace. Do I have time to change my hat?”
“Of course,” her father said, as a flicker of amusement crossed his face. Her brother Valten’s expression, on the other hand, was openly scornful.
Lord Claybrook made an elegant bow to his host and then turned to Margaretha. “Will you join us, my lady?”
“No, I thank you.” She knew her father was still trying to make out the man’s character, and he could do it better without her along. “Enjoy your ride. I will be here when you get back.” She smiled, trying to seem amenable and friendly.
Lord Claybrook’s gaze lingered on her before he bowed and strode away.
Her father smiled at her, looking pleased. Valten just scowled.
“How is my beautiful daughter this morning?”
“Very well, Father.” Margaretha went forward and embraced him. If only she could find someone as perfect as her father. He made every other man she’d ever met seem unworthy.
Perhaps this was the reason she’d never found a suitor very appealing; she always compared him to her father.
She pressed her cheek against his shoulder. He would never force her to marry, but she also felt he had been a little disappointed that she had rejected the Duke of Beimerberg last fall, and the Earl of Rimmel last summer, both within the first week of meeting them.
Some others hadn’t even lasted that long. Would he ask her how things were progressing with Lord Claybrook?