The Duke Broke the Rules and Chose the Wrong Sister — Only to Discover His Real Love

room. The conversation continued. Lady Danvers guided it toward music, charities, and the upcoming visit of an elderly aunt. Eleanor answered beautifully. Lord Danvers made approving remarks. Clara returned her attention to the garden, though Arthur noticed that she did not open her book. When tea ended, the household rose in small coordinated motions. Eleanor approached Arthur near the mantel. "I hope Clara did not seem too odd," she said quietly. "She has strong feelings about small things." Arthur looked toward the terrace where Clara had stepped outside and was standing beside a stone planter, looking up at the pale afternoon sky. "No," he said. "I would not call them small." Eleanor followed his gaze, and for the first time since he had arrived, something uncertain crossed her face. It was gone quickly, replaced by the composure she knew how to wear. "Of course," she said. Arthur bowed to her and took his leave, but the house seemed different as he crossed the hall. The portraits watched him from the walls. Men in powdered wigs and women in pearls stared down from generations of good marriages and careful alliances. He had grown up beneath faces like theirs. He had learned very early that a title was not a possession. It was a cage inherited with the keys already lost. At the foot of the staircase, he paused. Through the open doors behind him, he heard Clara's voice. She was speaking to a servant who had dropped a glove near the terrace. Her tone was low and kind, without the sweet performance some ladies used when servants could hear. It was the same voice she had used with him in the conservatory. "Consistent," he thought. That was the word that settled in him. Clara was not gentle in the dark and vain in the light. She was not clever only when no one important could object. She did not change shape to fit the person looking at her. The realization should have been simple. Instead, it disturbed him more than any flirtation could have done. That evening, Arthur walked the grounds with Lord Danvers after dinner. It was not formally announced as a conversation about marriage, but the direction was clear. They took the gravel path around the formal garden, where lanterns had been lit along the trimmed hedges, and Lord Danvers spoke of family histories, land boundaries, and the future with the careful confidence of a man approaching agreement. "My Eleanor has been raised with duty in mind," he said. "Not every young woman understands what a title demands." "No," Arthur said, "not every young woman does." "She is steady. That is worth more than romance in my view." Arthur