Читать книгу The Dark Duke - Margaret Moore, Paul Hammerness - Страница 13

By the time Adrian reached the foyer, a pair of footmen were already carrying in a trunk, maneuvering the bulky piece of baggage up the wide stairs. Outside, three more servants stood ready to receive smaller pieces of luggage at the direction of Elliot’s Italian valet.

Elliot, all five foot nine of him, looking healthy as a horse, his hair lighter from the sun of southern Italy, his eyes bluer in his tanned face, and sporting the latest in European fashion, met his mother at the door, smiling blandly as she embraced him.

“Elliot, my dear boy, how are you?” the duchess cried.

“I am much better, Mama, now that I am here with you.”

The duchess hugged him again, but his attention had already wandered toward his half brother. “I see you have other company, Mama.”

The duchess drew back. “Yes.”

“Elliot, how good of you to arrive at last,” the duke said in greeting.

Lord Elliot made a crooked little smile, one side of his mouth rising slightly higher than the other, and continued to survey the foyer. His gaze came to rest on Hester, who stood silently at the bottom of the stairs, the shawl draped over her slender arm, waiting patiently, more like a good servant than a woman of rank.

The duchess had some right to be vain of her son, Hester thought. He was tall, attractive, fair and blue eyed, his manner pleasing, his posture erect and his movements athletic. His lopsided smile added to his charm and was not nearly so sardonic as his brother’s. They were nearly the same height, and their voices remarkably similar in their smooth, deep tones. She also realized that for a man who had been too ill to travel, he looked extremely healthy. Indeed, it was interesting to contrast the appearance of Lord Elliot with that of the duke upon his arrival.