Page 4 of The Design of Dukes
Granby went completely still, nostrils flaring in apparent outrage, like an angry bull about to charge.
She’d unintentionally hit a nerve.Good.
Dressed in all that black, it would be easy for Granby to be mistaken as a bleak mountaintop in some inhospitable place. She could practically see the snowcaps hovering about his shoulders. He was rather intimidating, but unfortunately, her temper had full control of her mouth at the moment. Besides, Granby would hardly assault her with Blythe so close.
“You appear to have more to say,shrub. Don’t let me stop you.”
“Your tailor has measured incorrectly, a situation you should remedyimmediately, Your Grace. I’m not sure whether he is incompetent or merely lacks talent. At the very least, his eyesight should be checked.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my tailor,” the duke said in a chilly tone.
Blythe, no longer able to control himself, turned his back on both of them, his shoulders shaking with mirth.
“I respectfully disagree, Your Grace.”
“There is nothing respectful at all in your tone.” The mountain moved in her direction, a dangerous light flickering in his eyes.
Strangely, Romy felt not an ounce of fear, another failing which her brother Leo at times likened to stupidity. But the skin of her arms and chest prickled in a most curious manner at Granby’s nearness. She sniffed the air.
Granby smelled woodsy, as if he’d been tromping through the wilderness all day. Like an ogre.
“You should find a better tailor.” Romy lifted her chin, daring him to object before taking a step back further beneath the tree. “Your Grace.” She dipped politely once more before turning and striding off in the direction of the small crowd surrounding the refreshment stand set up in the center of the lawn. Lemonade and servants would offer her some protection.
A slight rumble sounded in the distance. Thunder. Or Granby. She wasn’t sure.
Turning her head up toward the sky, Romy was gratified to see a darkening of the clouds just as the first drops of rain hit her arms. She doubted Granby would care enough about her condemnation of the length of his coat to pursue her during a rainstorm.
Hopefully, they would not cross paths again.
1
Eighteen months later, London
Romy rubbed her fingers over the sample of damask. The fabric was beautiful but far more suitable for a sofa or chair than a gown. She made a mental note to speak to Madame Dupree, though she supposed someone like Miss Hobarth, who was chattering away happily beside her, would hardly note the difference.
I can hardly allow Miss Hobarth to go around looking like a sofa cushion.
“I am so pleased to see you, Lady Andromeda. London has been dull without your company. I know how difficult the time away has been.” Miss Hobarth gently touched Romy’s forearm.
“It has indeed.” A mild understatement. The death of Romy’s father, the Duke of Averell, had been far worse than any travail Miss Hobarth could imagine, though she meant well. Watching her father’s formerly robust form waste away to nothing while her two brothers remained estranged from him had been a frustrating circumstance. The anger still lingered at Tony, now the Duke of Averell, as well as her other brother, Leo. Tony at least seemed to have taken the reins of the family and dukedom firmly while her illegitimate brother fell further into his grief. As did Romy’s mother. But Mama was finally starting to recover after a frightening collapse in which Romy had feared for her mother’s health.
“Will you be staying in town long?” Miss Hobarth examined a bit of wool dyed a deep green.
“I’m not certain.” Maggie, Romy’s sister-in-law, had begged the family to visit London as she and Tony could not come to Cherry Hill at present. Leo had taken off for New York on business, leaving Tony to manage his gambling hell, Elysium.
Business.Romy wondered if Georgina, Lady Masterson, would like being referred to as if she were an invoice requiring payment. Leo had gone after Georgina, who had fled England for her native New York, last year. Honestly, it had taken him far longer to follow her than they’d all thought.
Mama, finally starting to wear pewter instead of black, had reluctantly agreed to come to London, mainly so that she could be with her grandson, Freddie, who was beginning to take his first steps.
“I do hope you stay long enough for me to ask your advice. I’m having several new gowns made, and you know better what I need than my own mother.” Miss Hobarth snuck a look at Mrs. Hobarth who was across the room. “What a stroke of luck to find you here today.”
“Lucky indeed. Madame Dupree was kind enough to inform me of some new silks she’d received, else I wouldn’t be here.” It was a half-truth. Romy would have been there regardless.
“I’m certain the help you gave my sister was what helped her land Viscount Lowell.”
“How is Lady Lowell?” Miss Hobarth’s elder sister had been indireneed of assistance. All the Hobarths sported hair in varying shades of ginger and seemed determined to dress only in chartreuse, with as many strategically placed bows as possible. It was a testament to her diplomatic skills that Romy had managed to steer the eldest sister toward more complimentary colors.
“Deliriously happy.” Miss Hobarth grinned.
