Joan stepped forward. “Ah, Your Grace,” she greeted, then hesitated upon noticing the purplish bruise circling his eye. “Merciful heavens,” she said breathlessly, then collected herself. “Come in, won’t you?” She turned to the butler. “Please have tea sent into the red parlor, along with Mrs. Hiddleman.” The housekeeper would serve as chaperone.
“Right away, my lady,” the butler replied and left to do her bidding.
“Will you follow me?” Joan asked, gesturing to the hall.
“Thank you,” the Duke of Westmore replied softly.
Joan silently led him to the east-facing parlor. Early-morning sunshine filtered through the sheer curtains and filled the room with light, making the red settee and chairs seem to glow. “Will you sit? Tea will be in shortly,” she said conversationally.
“Thank you,” the duke repeated.
After Joan took a seat, she leaned forward. “So, who looks worse? You or my brother?”
The duke blinked, then the tips of his ears flushed with color as he sighed. “That is the nature of my early social call, Lady Joan.”
“Ah.” She offered pleasantly, “That is an interesting shade of purple.”
He chuckled. “I thought I looked dashing and dangerous, like a pirate.”
Joan giggled softly. “Certainly like a pirate. And my brother will look like one, too, I’m assuming?”
“Possibly. Though he tends to bruise less than me. Unfair if you ask me, since I usually won the fistfights.”
Joan shook her head. “And what caused the altercation?” She leaned back into the settee.
The duke paused, his amused expression shifting to uncertainty. “That’s the thing. I don’t know. What I think we were fighting about doesn’t seem to be the real reason. Not that any of this makes sense.” He shrugged. “Nonetheless, we shouldn’t have come to blows.”
“No, you probably shouldn’t have. You’ll both cause talk, and somehow I’m sure Morgan will find a reason for it to come back to me.” She sighed.
“Pardon?”
Joan worried her lip, torn between wanting to tell the truth and not disclosing too much information. It was always a fine line, one for which she rarely found the middle ground.
“It’s only that he can be very protective of family.”
“Of you,” the duke stated.
She nodded.
“That’s not a terrible thing.” He shrugged.
Joan gave a small sigh. “Anything excessive can be bad, Your Grace.”
He leaned forward. “Do I sense a challenge?”
“Challenge?”
“Yes, you postulate that anything in excess is bad, am I correct?”
“Ah, I should have remembered you’re a professor. Very well, do your worst.” She mimicked him, leaning in as well.
Mrs. Hiddleman came in with tea. She set the service on the side table and took up a seat in the corner, the perfect silent chaperone.
“Tea first or debate?” Joan asked, her tone cheeky.
The duke narrowed his eyes, then shifted his gaze from the tea to her and then back. “Trick question, but one I will answer. Tea first.”
“Excellent choice,” Joan replied. “Shall I pour for you?”