Page 50 of How to Ruin a Duke
“Never wasa correspondent more conscientious than you, Mama.”Jeremiah kissed the duchess’s cheek, which affection she pretended to ignore, though he knew she enjoyed the little touches.
The woman should remarry.She had taken good care of her appearance and held a lavish dower portion, though what mature man of sense would willingly take on a widowed duchess prone to managing and carping?
“A lady does not neglect her letters,” the duchess replied, dipping her pen into the ink.“You would do well to stay in touch with some of your university friends, my boy.Life is long and the associations we form in our youth can be some of the dearest we ever enjoy.”
What associations had Mama formed in her youth?She longed to become one of the patronesses at Almack’s, but Emory had scotched such a notion the few times it had come up.Emory had a positive genius for finding the flaws in other people’s plans, though in his defense, becoming further entangled with the pit of vipers at the assembly rooms would have made Mama miserable.
And when Mama was miserable, both of her sons were miserable.
Jeremiah flipped out his tails and took the chair opposite Mama’s escritoire.“Most of the fellows I went to university with are either married or have bought their colors.The ranks here in London are thinner by the year.”
She put down her pen and sat back.“And does marriage or an officer’s uniform turn a man illiterate?Particularly when a fellow is posted far from home, society news can bring great comfort.This business with that nasty book, for example, is just the sort of incident most of your set would find hilarious be they in London, Lower Canada, or India.”
Jeremiah found it hilarious, though the book was refusing to die.Five printings already, and Emory looking delectably frustrated for a change.
“His Grace is trying to find the author,” Jeremiah said.“I can’t tell if he means to sue the fellow or pay him off.”
Mama capped her ink and sanded the letter, her movements unhurried and graceful.“What makes you so sure the author is a man?”
“Because the incidents recounted are true, and they mostly happened in male company.”
She wrinkled her nose, not as splendid a proboscis as Emory boasted, but a nose that could charitably be called aristocratic.“Even that bit about the gin?I cannot imagine my firstborn consuming gin, much less wagering on such a feat.”
“It’s true, all of it,” Jeremiah said, “though the author omitted some extenuating circumstances.I don’t believe Emory has touched a drop of gin since.”
“Then a suit for defamation cannot be brought.”Mama seemed relieved about that.
Jeremiah was relieved as well, because litigation could only pour fuel on the flames of gossip.Poking fun at a titled man who enjoyed a reputation for unrelenting seriousness was one thing, miring a family in scandal was quite another.
“Emory is not one to change his mind once he’s come to a decision,” Jeremiah said.“Why do you say he won’t sue?”
“Because truth is a defense to any claim of defamation, young man.To tell lies about a person is to slander him, to share the truth is entertaining.Publishers know that, and while they might push the boundaries of decency, they avoid lawyers at all costs.I see you are dressed for riding.Are you accompanying me to the park today?”
He’d come to beg off actually.A few hands of cards or a visit to Madam Bellassai’s establishment always made for a pleasant afternoon.
“Emory pled the press of business.He did not inquire as to whether my own business might also obligate me elsewhere.”
“On such a lovely day?Jeremiah, what business could you possibly have to attend to?”Mama smiled at him as if he’d made a jest.“Your cousin Antigone has accepted an invitation to ride with me, and she’s bringing that lovely Miss Faraday.”
Mama was nothing, if not relentless.“Miss Faraday and I would not suit.”
“She’s rich, agreeable, pretty, and pragmatic, Jeremiah.You’d suit.”
“How will she like a remove to India, Mama?I’m told the heat alone can kill a woman of delicate constitution.They have snakes there longer than the train of the monarch’s coronation cloak, and diseases that can debilitate a woman for the rest of her days if they don’t steal her life outright.”
Mama patted his arm.“Such a flair for drama you have.Until Emory has his heir and spare, you won’t be posting to anywhere half so exciting as India, even assuming His Grace does buy you a commission, which we both know he’s refused to do.”
“He has other heirs,” Jeremiah said, not for the first time.“Cousin Eldridge and Cousin Harry.”
“They are eight and eleven years old respectively, and a pair of reckless little scamps.”Mama poured the sand from her letter into the dust bin beside the escritoire.“Until I can find a match for Emory, he will not be swayed.Trust me on that.Perhaps you might use the time with Miss Faraday to extol your brother’s virtues if you can’t see fit to impress her with your own.”
Emory underestimated Mama, and Jeremiah had the sense she preferred it that way.She had a gift for strategy, and Jeremiah had six married female cousins to show for it.
“I’m to sing Emory’s praises?That will be a short chorus, Mama.I love him without limit, but from the perspective of a lady, he’s not exactly brilliant company.”
Mama folded her letter and dripped claret-colored wax onto the flap.A rosy fragrance filled the air, the sealing wax being scented with her signature perfume.
“Emory is a duke, he need not be charming.”She pressed a signet ring into the hot wax and set the letter on a stack of four others.“I suspect he envies you your social skills.You could give him a few pointers.”
