Ever since Miss Cavanaugh descended her carriage, he was drawn to her. He ran his hands through his hair, then scrubbed his fingers over his face. No. Love was a dangerous game. A game he'd once gambled at and had lost everything. He'd vowed never to do that again and yet, here he was following this young lady around as if she contained the very air he needed to breathe. This needed to stop. Now. Well, not now, but today. Yes, today, he committed to himself as he made his way down the hall to the library. Before breakfast he'd received a missive, presumably from the duke, instructing Aaron to meet him in the library at ten o'clock. The old codger had added a subscript to the bottom of the missive that ten o'clock meant ten o'clock, not two ticks past ten and not two ticks before ten. Aaron shook his head. Gads, the man was precise. All the more reason to leave today. An image of the lovely Daphne formed in his mind, complete with porcelain cheeks with a small flag of red in the center of each.
