As the visitor strode to the steps toward the front door, Hannah wrinkled her nose. Though his hat concealed most of his hair and shadowed his face, only the Duke of Suttenberg possessed such arrogant mastery, as if he viewed himself ruler of all the earth instead of only his own properties.
Though she’d planned to enter through a side door, Hannah followed him up the front stairs so she could better observe the full force of his snobbery. And if she were honest, catching a glimpse of his handsome face would be no hardship. As long as he didn’t turn his intimidating stare her way, she ought to manage to hold on to her wits.
He glanced over his shoulder. Her breath stilled. Though she’d spent time in his company four times—yes, she’d kept track—she was never fully prepared for his masculine allure. She’d seen plenty of gentlemen, including her brother-in-law, Cole. But the Duke of Suttenberg’s face never failed to turn her to a blithering pool of mush.
The duke cast a passing glance over her and intoned, “Inform your master I am arrived.”
Hannah’s mouth dropped open, and her face burned with one-part humiliation and two-parts anger. He didn’t remember her. Worse, he’d mistaken her for some house girl. A servant.
The butler opened the front door, drawing the duke’s attention. “Ah, Your Grace. My lord is expecting you.”
The duke entered without casting a second look at Hannah. Arrogant, thoughtless cad! That he would forget someone whom he should recognize by now spoke volumes to his conceit. Clearly, he viewed her as too far beneath his notice to have gone to all the trouble of remembering her face. True, she didn’t like being the center of attention, but neither did she want to be treated as if she were a patch of mud to be scraped off one’s boots.