Page 61 of How to Ruin a Duke
The novelty of being told to hush and then given an order scrambled Thaddeus’s wits, for he not only obeyed her and resumed his place on the loveseat like a good duke, he also made no pretense of putting distance between his hip and hers.
And neither did she.
“Finish your tart,” he said.
She delivered such a look to him as would have made a lesser man back slowly for the door.
“I beg your ladyship’s pardon.Perhaps you’d consider finishing your tart before we embark on a tedious discussion.I would not want to distract you from your pleasures.”Nor could Thaddeus form a proper thought while watching her consume her sweet.Perhaps the infatuations and flirtations that so violently afflicted Antigone, Jeremiah, and other family members were an inherited trait.
The notion was more encouraging than lowering.Thaddeus stuffed another bite of buttered bread into his mouth and fixed his gaze on the pattern of mock orange boughs on the worn carpet before the hearth.
“Where would you like to start?”her ladyship asked, dusting her hands several long moments later.
“With a list of suspects,” Thaddeus replied.“Preferably a short list, full of people I don’t like and can easily buy off or intimidate.”
“You intimidate nearly all who meet you.”She wrapped up the bread and put the lid on the butter crock.“I shudder for the young ladies who stand up with you for their first waltz.”
“I am competent on the dance floor.”In fact, he enjoyed a vigorous set with an enthusiastic partner.
“You are magnificent but your proportions mean most women struggle to keep up with the sweep and scope of your dancing, especially inexperienced women cowed by your glowers and scowls.”
Thaddeus tore another pear tart in half and held out the larger portion to Lady Edith.He was torn as well, between pleasure that she had watched hismagnificentwaltzing, and frustration that he’d never asked her to stand up with him.
“I couldn’t possibly eat another bite,” she said, wrapping up the basket of pear tarts and the cheese in another square of linen.
“Liar.”Thaddeus held the tart up to her mouth.
She nibbled, watching him all the while, and his battle against obvious signs of arousal lost ground.
“We will need pencil and paper,” she said, patting her mouth with a table napkin.
I will soon need to stand in the cold rain without my coat.“Excellent idea.”He retrieved those items from the desk as Lady Edith finished tidying up their meal.
“I will put the leftovers in the pantry,” she said, “and you can start on a list of people who have motive to wish you ill, plus literary ability, and enough proximity to you to paint you in a credibly bad light.I’ll be right back.”
“No hurry,” Thaddeus replied.“I fear the list will be quite long.”
And she still hadn’t told him what he could offer her by way of compensation.
The parlor became smallerthan ever with His Grace of Emory on the love seat.When he rose to pace, Edith noticed how low the ceiling was, how worn the carpet, and that the water stain where the walls met was growing.But sharing a parlor picnic with him also gave the room a cozy quality, taking off the chill of a dreary afternoon.
Or the food had done that.Good food that had to have come from the ducal kitchen.She recognized the weave of the table napkins, and the flask was embossed with the family crest.A griffinsegreant,prepared to do as griffins legendarily did and guard priceless treasures on both land, in the manner of lions, and as the eagles did, from the heavens.
Who guarded Emory’s reputation, and who benefitted from tarnishing it?
“Before we make your list,” Edith said, resuming her place on the loveseat, “can you tell me a bit more about the famous curricle race?”
“The infamous race.What would you like to know?”
“You are not by nature incautious.What possessed you to bet another peer that you could beat him to Brighton in a vehicle you’d never driven before, much less by moonlight?”
The duke held up the plate with half a pear tart.Edith took a bite because she did not want to seem rude.
“I chose to start at moonrise,” he said, “because the roads are less crowded and fewer people would be abroad to witness my folly.”
“Why race at all?”
He helped himself to a bite of the tart.“My dear, idiot brother had bet his new curricle that he could travel the distance to Brighton and beat his opponent, if not the Regent’s record.He must have been half-seas over to make such an asinine wager.Beating the Regent’s time publicly is not the done thing, moreover, Jeremiah had only recently won the curricle in a game of cards.He wasn’t experienced enough to handle such an unstable vehicle at speed, much less in a race.”
