“That would be unsporting.” Althea sent her goggling butler a glance and he withdrew. “You are reputed to have a temper, but then, if folk claimed that my mere passing caused milk to curdle and babies to colic, I’d be a tad testy too. No one has ever accused you of dishonorable behavior.”

“Nor will they, while you, my lady, have stooped so low as to unleash the hogs of war upon my private property.” He backed away not one inch, and this close Althea caught a more subtle fragrance. Lily of the valley or jasmine. Very faint, elegant, and unexpected, like the moss green of his eyes.

“You cannot read, perhaps,” he went on, “else you’d grasp that ‘we will not be entertaining for the foreseeable future’ means neither you nor your livestock are welcome at Rothhaven.”

“A neighborly call is hardly entertaining,” Althea countered. “Shall we be seated?”

Lynley Vale had come into her possession when the Wentworth family had acquired a ducal title several years past. Althea’s brother Quinn, the present duke, had entrusted an estate to each of his three siblings, and Althea had done her best to kit out Lynley Vale as befit a ducal residence. When Quinn visited, he and his duchess seemed comfortable enough amid the portraits, frescoed ceilings, and gilt-framed pier glasses.

Rothhaven was a different sort of duke, one whose presence made pastel carpets and flocked wallpaper appear fussy and overdone. Althea had been so curious about Rothhaven Hall she’d nearly peered through the windows, but His Grace had threatened even children with charges of trespassing. A grown woman would get no quarter from a duke who cursed and issued threats on first acquaintance.

“I will not be seated,” he retorted. “Retrieve your damned pigs from my orchard, madam, or I will send them all to slaughter before the week is out.”

“Is that where my naughty ladies got off to?” Althea took her wing chair. “They haven’t been on an outing in ages. I suppose the spring air provoked them to seeing the sights. Last autumn they took a notion to inspect the market. In spring they decided to attend Sunday services. Most of my neighbors find my herd’s social inclinations amusing.”

“I might be amused, were your herd not at the moment rooting through my orchard uninvited. To allow stock of those dimensions to wander is irresponsible, and why a duke’s sister is raising hogs entirely defeats my powers of imagination.”

Because he had never been destitute and never would be. “Do have a seat. I’m told only the ill-mannered pace the parlor like a house tabby who needs to visit the garden.”