While he read, he could swear Mrs. Warner continued to glare at him for several minutes.
He refused to look up. He’d thrown down the gauntlet. In precise terms, so she had no doubts about what he initially hoped for.
He was still waiting for an invite half an hour later, when there was a knock on the door.
“Yes, what is it, Mr. Brown?” Mrs. Warner asked before he could.
“A special delivery for Lord Rafferty, madam.”
Adam came to his feet. “Send her in, Brown,”
“Her?” Mrs. Warner queried.
He tossed his book aside. “My daughter.”
The light of Adam’s life, Ava, rushed into the room. He grunted at the impact of her small body against his but tossed her up into his arms easily enough. “You got my message?”
“I did.” The girl kissed his cheek loudly and wrapped her arms tightly about his neck. “I thought you were coming home yesterday.”
“I had a tiny mishap,” he told her, patting her back. “Nothing to worry about.”
She drew back, frowning. Ava had his eyes but her mother’s slighter build, thank heavens. Today, her long hair had been pulled back—but then he noticed what she was wearing, and scowled. “What did I say about wearing those breeches beyond the estate? They are only for fencing lessons.”
“I’m sorry, Papa. Don’t be cross.” She looked so honestly distraught he held his tongue to hear her excuse first. “I had to take my lessons before I left but then the carriage was ready and my luggage loaded. I was already in the carriage before I realized I’d forgotten to change.”
His daughter could be flighty at times, a whirlwind of excitement. He would have preferred she not look like a hoyden, but there was no pretending she wasn’t occasionally.
He reluctantly glanced beyond Ava, expecting to see disapproval. Rebecca and the butler were watching them. The butler was trying not to grin. Rebecca’s expression had become utterly unreadable though.
He eased his daughter down to her feet and turned her about to face the sort of woman Ava might have to impress one day, bracing for the worst possible introduction ever. “Mrs. Warner, I don’t believe you have met my daughter, Lady Ava Croft of Gable Park. Ava, may I introduce Mrs. Rebecca Warner, one of the Duke of Stapleton’s daughters.”
“Oh,” Ava squeaked as she stepped out of his reach.
Rebecca drew closer, eyes skimming over his girl from head to toe—but then a sudden smile burst over her face as she curtsied. “A pleasure, my lady.”
“A pleasure indeed, madam,” Ava replied before dipping into a curtsy that wobbled just a little.
Rebecca’s smile diminished very slowly. “I trust you enjoyed your lesson, my lady?”
“Oh, I did!” Ava told her with unabashed excitement.
“Do you practice the sport often?”
Puzzled by Rebecca’s mild tone, Adam raised his eyes quickly. She seemed not to disapprove—at least not yet.
Ava nodded enthusiastically to the other woman. “Yes, madam. Every day. It’s invigorating exercise.”
Rebecca’s brows lifted a little. “Indeed it is. Have you ever fenced against a real opponent?”
“Only Papa, and only once because I cut him.”
“A shallow cut,” Adam hastened to add. Ava had been upset enough over the incident.
Rebecca clucked her tongue. “You should know better than to fence with real weapons without adequate protection, my lord.”
“I know that now. At the time, I hadn’t realized how quickly my girl could swing the blade. A mistake I have not made again.”
Ava’s face fell. “I may only use wooden swords now.”