‘I merely commented to your father that if he could spare me anyone to assist, I would be most grateful. I may have remarked that you appeared in need of distraction. If Sir Edgar chose to combine those two facts, I can hardly be held responsible for that, can I?’
Eleanor cursed inwardly. She knew he would never admit it.
‘Lady Peyton.’ Rudhale inclined his head and smiled down at Eleanor. The unsettling feeling rose in her stomach again. ‘I will not hold it against you if you prefer to return to your woman’s work. I shall tell your father you prefer to spend your days sewing with your mother and sister.’
Still holding Eleanor’s gaze, Rudhale circled around her so he was now outside Sir Edgar’s door. He continued smoothly, ‘I am sure he will understand and I shall manage as best as I can. I would not want you to feel under obligation to do this if you feel the task is too daunting.’
Too daunting! Eleanor’s pride flared at the implied insult and blood rushed to her cheeks. The jibe about woman’s work had been bad enough, but she would not stand by and be held as incapable.
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