“Not in Dartmouth. My word stands firm here.”
She stepped closer to him and leaned in conspiratorially. “Fair or not fair?”
He knew what she was doing—trying to figure him out. Was he a tyrant, a man of decency, a charmer whose promises were as frivolous as his heart?
He chuckled in her face. “I’m fairer than any man in the castle or the three villages because I have no favorites. I feel the same way about everyone.”
Her pretty smile returned, tempting him to stare at it. “The people who spoke to me in the village seem very fond of you.”
He thought of Old Beatrice. “Some have been acquainted with me since my childhood,” he told her quietly. “Their opinions of me have no bearing on how I feel in return.”
She became quiet for a moment, then. “Who hurt you?”
He raised his gaze to her. “What?”
She appeared as if she wanted to say more. She didn’t.
“I’ll let the men who are protecting the Gable holding know that you are to have access to anywhere you wish to go, as long as you have an escort.”
She nodded, still looking at him as if she were trying to see inside him.
Not wanting anyone to see that deeply, he turned away and went to his horse.
“Hey—” she stopped, and then, “My lord, thank you for the invitation to the ball. I—”
“I didn’t send it.” he said, mounting his horse and chuckling, though he was angry at whoever gave her the invitation. He didn’t want her at the castle with his stepmother and her son.
“Oh, I assumed you did.”
“Why would you assume that?” he asked lightly.
Her lips tightened. “Because I don’t know your stepmother, and she doesn’t know me. Since you’re the only Barrington Idoknow, I thought it was you.”
He thought it was amusing that she lost her temper so fast. Despite being nothing but a pain in his neck, and reviling him every chance she got, she was amusing.
“What are you called, little lion?”
“Aria.”
Damn him. He was tempted to smile. “Aria, as in a solo performance in an opera. Your name is musical.”
“Do you like music?” she asked him.
“Yes. Yes, I do.” he told her. Then, “What family are you from?”
“The Darlings.”
“Aria Darling?” he repeated, well-practiced at keeping any emotion from his heart, or his expression. Most of the time.
He’d already been ready to smile, so it came more easily when he spoke her name. He suddenly felt as if he couldn’t breathe. His belly also knotted and made him feel ill.
“Miss Aria Darling from New York City. You might not feel welcome at the castle, so it’s best if you don’t attend. It’s probably something you wouldn’t like anyway.”
Her expression hardened, and he was sorry that it had.
“Oh, of course I was about to decline before you began talking,” she let him know icily and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Well, it was…interesting. Goodbye, or farewell, whatever you people say in this century.”
Her voice faded into a mumble as she turned.