Page 103 of Never a Duke
The coach came to a halt before the Woodruff town house, and Walden handed the ladies down.
“A word of advice?” Walden said quietly as the footmen escorted the women to the door.
“I am all ears.” In Ned’s experience, Walden never handed out advice. The duke was a firm believer that experience was the best teacher and often the only effective teacher.
“Be Lady Rosalind’s intended before all else, Ned. Be worthy of her regard first, and let proving yourself to the world take a distant second.”
“I have no need to prove myself to anybody.”
Walden’s smile was crooked. “Of course you don’t. Neither do I. Perish the thought. We are gentlemen in good standing with our ladies, after all.” And to His Grace, this was obviously all that should ever matter.
Ned and the duke joined the women at Woodruff’s front door. One of the footmen banged the knocker three times, then withdrew as far as the steps.
“Ivor,” Her Grace said to the second footman, “you will accompany us.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Ivor’s smile would have done credit to a plundering Viking.
The door opened, and Rosalind sailed past a venerable butler. “Cranston, please inform my father and brothers that Their Graces of Walden and Mr. Ned Wentworth have come to call. I will escort our guests to the formal parlor.”
Cranston had likely never greeted such exalted personages, but he clearly realized that a visit at such an early hour was not social.
“I don’t believe Lord Lindhurst has come down yet, my lady.”
“Then please wake him,” Rosalind said, passing over her bonnet and cloak. “I insist.”
Cranston’s brows rose.
“As do I,” Ned said, adding his hat to the heap in Cranston’s arms. “As do Their Graces. Please have Woodruff, Lindhurst, and Mr. George Kinwood in the formal parlor at once.”
“And no perishing tea tray,” Rosalind added.
“Very good, your ladyship.”
Rosalind led them down a corridor that could have done with a good dusting and into a parlor that clearly saw little use. The room hadn’t been aired in some time, the hearth was not only unlit, but also hadn’t a fresh fire laid, and nary a single bloom graced either of the vases on the mantel.
“Rosalind.” The Earl of Woodruff paused just inside the parlor door some moments later. “You will explain yourself.”
Rosalind flinched under his lordship’s peremptory tone, then stood straighter. “Good morning, my lord. I believe you know Their Graces and Mr. Wentworth?”
“I know Their Graces, and I have had the dubious honor of meeting Wentworth. Why have you inconvenienced a duke and duchess and upset the peace of my household at this hour?”
“It’s no bother,” Her Grace said. “We’ve come to hear you explain why you should not be arrested for kidnapping, bribery, interfering with the king’s justice, wrongful imprisonment, and a few other felonies. His Grace will provide details when your sons have joined us.”
Woodruff inhaled through his nose, the sound approximating a windbroken coach horse. “Your Grace surely jests.”
“She does not,” Rosalind countered. “And you cannot bluster your way out of responsibility, Papa.”
“I do not bluster, Rosalind. Persist in this farce and I will disclaim any further connection with you.”
Ned was ready to pummel the old windbag for that, but Rosalind merely looked intrigued.
“Is that supposed to be a threat? If so, I must inform your lordship that the prospect of being disowned looms rather like a temptation.”
“You impertinent, disrespectful, ungovernable…” Woodruff took a step toward Rosalind. She stood her ground, while Ned took the place at her right, Walden at her left, and Ivor at her back.
“Your lordship should sit down,” Rosalind said. “You will give yourself an apoplexy if you yield to a fit of choler now.”
“I’d listen to her,” Her Grace added. “The discussion will be trying for all concerned, most of all for you.”
