Page 11 of The Truth About Love and Dukes

“Tea, miss,” the housekeeper announced as she entered the room. “Mrs. Gibson’s made some lovely iced cakes today. A pity His Grace won’t be able to enjoy them,” she added, making no effort to hide her disappointment as she set the tray on the tea table beside Irene’s chair.

“A great pity,” Irene agreed with cheer as she reached for the teapot and the strainer. “But please thank Mrs. Gibson, and assure her we shall enjoy the cakes enormously.”

The housekeeper didn’t seem at all gratified to hear it. Still looking quite let down, she left the room.

“Well?” Clara asked the moment the housekeeper was out the door. “Why did the duke want to see you?”

“Why does it matter?” Irene countered as she strained tea into two cups and added sugar.

“I can’t believe you’d even ask me that,” Clara said as she took the cup and saucer Irene held out to her. “Of course it matters! He’s a duke.”

“So?”

“Irene! You know I read about the doings of the aristocracy in Society Snippets every day. So do you.”

“I read our paper because, as the editor, doing so is one of my responsibilities. It’s different for you. Your job as my secretary doesn’t require you to read what we publish.”

“But I like to read it. I like gossip.” She lifted her round chin a notch as she sat back with her teacup. “Especially about handsome dukes and their scandalous mothers.”

Irene wrinkled up her nose in distaste at her sister’s description of the duke. “Handsome is as handsome does.”

“Oh, stop! You sound like Papa’s Cousin Martha.”

She did, a fact she found terribly disheartening, but she turned away, pretending vast interest in the cakes Mrs. Gibson had taken such pains to decorate. “Either way, I didn’t think him particularly handsome.”

“Tell it to the marines! You know as well as I do he was handsome as sin.”

Irene made a face. “I doubt that man would know a sin if it bit him. He’s so stiff-necked, he ought to be a vicar, not a duke.”

“If he was a vicar, no woman in his parish would ever miss services.” Clara sighed, fanning herself with her free hand. “So splendidly tall, and with such wide shoulders.”

Irene groaned. “Oh, Clara, don’t be mawkish.”

Clara was undeterred. “Beautiful eyes, too. You must have noticed that much, at least.”

Beautiful or not, the thing she’d noticed most about his eyes was how disapprovingly they’d studied her. Everything about her appearance had been dissected, judged, and no doubt found wanting. Just the memory of his disdainful gaze made her feel hot and angry and thoroughly stirred up all over again.

“As for the rest,” Clara said, her voice intruding on her elder sister’s thoughts, “you enjoy hearing gossip about him and his set as much as anybody, Irene. I know it, whatever you say. Why, changing the newspaper to a scandal sheet was your idea.”

“I’m glad so many people enjoy reading about the doings of dukes, believe me,” she answered, relieved her sister had abandoned talk of the Duke of Torquil’s eyes and shoulders. “But for my own part, I couldn’t care two straws. And why should I?” she added, feeling prickly all of a sudden. “It’s not as if they care about us. Lilies of the field, all of them, and so I said.”

“Irene, you didn’t call him that to his face?”

She wriggled a little at her sister’s appalled expression. “I might have done,” she muttered, tugging at one ear.

Clara stared at her, shaking her head. “The Duke of Torquil is wasted on you. If a rich, handsome duke ever came to call upon me, I’d die of happiness.”

“No, you wouldn’t, for you’d be forced to listen to the horrid things he says,” Irene countered and took a cake from the tray. “You should have heard him today, talking about how his mother’s marriage to Foscarelli would be beneath her, and such a horrible blow to her family.”

“Well, that sort of thing is bound to cause a scandal and have an impact on all her relations.”

If my mother’s life is ruined as a result of your advice, what responsibility do you bear?

Heavens, she had to stop that man’s words from rattling around in her head. Irene suppressed an oath and took a bite of her tea cake. “Still,” she said after taking a moment to savor Mrs. Gibson’s lemony sugar icing—if not the reason for it, “the duchess is capable of deciding for herself who to marry, isn’t she?”

“The duke is no doubt displeased over the match. And he’s obviously concerned that his mother is being taken advantage of by Foscarelli.”

“Perhaps, but when I wrote back to her, I did point these things out, and I advised her to consult her solicitors, draw up a marital settlement, and tie up the money. I don’t know if she did so in the end, but I was very clear about it in my correspondence. And from her words to me, it was obvious she is fully aware of the impact her choice will have upon her family. As for her son, I don’t see how his disapproval is of any concern to us.”

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