Page 4 of Fit for a Duke
‘I wanted to be original. And I might have missed.’
Ezra laughed. ‘Let’s go to Grosvenor Square,’ he said. ‘My servants will have prepared breakfast for one. I wasn’t sure if you would be joining me or your maker, and it doesn’t do to waste good food. But I dare say they can rustle up some coddled eggs if you work that famous charm of yours that seems so effective with the ladies—with Miss Hardwick at any rate.’
‘I say, she’s an angel,’ Henry replied, bouncing enthusiastically in his saddle and causing his horse to prance sideways. ‘That’s why I couldn’t permit Carstairs to become all proprietorial when she assures me that nothing has been settled between them. Indeed, I don’t think she even likes him very much—which is a terrible shame because he’s a fine fellow.’
‘The same fine fellow you tried to put a bullet through ten minutes ago?’
‘I keep telling you, I fired into the ground.’
‘Is there anyone you take an actual dislike to?’ Ezra asked.
‘Not if I can help it. Animosity is such a negative emotion. Quite exhausting. I much prefer to see the good in everyone and if I can’t find any then I simply ignore them. You should try it.’
‘Perhaps I shall.’
‘Ha!’ Henry threw back his head and roared with laughter. ‘That I should like to see. You have such a taciturn disposition that you only ever see a person’s faults.’
‘It’s safer that way. One is less likely to be disappointed, as you will be when Miss Hardwick settles her interest elsewhere.’
‘Never!’
Ezra rode on, dwelling upon the pressing reason he had for mixing in society that had nothing to do with finding a wife; a reason that he hadn’t even shared with Henry yet, and might never do so. His priority was to discover who had killed his brother and passed it off as an accident. More expediently, he needed to discover who was responsible for the two attempts that had already been made on his own life.
Someone, it seemed, was determined to kill off all the male heirs to the Wickham duchy. Ezra was the only survivor and a crowded house party would give the perpetrator the perfect opportunity to strike again.
Chapter Two
Clio and Adele peered out of an upstairs window as the first carriages pulled up in front of the entrance portico. Lady Fletcher’s butler greeted the guests with stately aplomb and showed them into the house while an army of servants descended upon their luggage. Clio’s aunt awaited them in the drawing room but neither of her daughters were with her. Beth had been ordered to remain in her chamber. She would make her entrance that evening, when all the male guests would be assembled to admire her, which meant that Adele couldn’t show her face prematurely either. Clio and Adele had no arguments to make on that score and were happy to steer well clear of the orderly mayhem of arrival.
‘That must be the ducal carriage,’ Adele said, pointing to a cream landau conveyed by four matching high-stepping greys.
‘Is that the duke?’ Clio asked, wrinkling her nose as she watched a short man wave away the footman who had stepped forward so that he could help a lady, obviously the dowager duchess, from the conveyance himself. He made an unnecessary display of so doing, Clio thought, as though attempting to assert his authority. Even from her vantage point Clio could see that he was bandy-legged and running to fat. He held a lace-trimmed handkerchief beneath his nose in one hand, as though affected by the country smells, and offered the other arm to the dowager, who placed a gloved hand on it. ‘If so, I cannot understand what all the fuss is about. There is absolutely nothing remarkable about him, and I feel sorry for Beth if he is the man she is destined to spend the rest of her life with.’
‘Of course there is everything remarkable about him, silly. He’s a duke, and his grand position transcends any unfortunate traits of nature. But no, he is not the duke. I have never seen him, but am reliably informed…’
‘By Beth,’ they said together, laughing.
‘Quite.’
‘She hasn’t seen this person either,’ Clio pointed out.
‘Which will not have prevented her from learning everything there is to know about the man. Besides, we must assume that the dowager duchess knows her own son, and she has informed Mama that he is of above average height, with a sweep of thick black hair and deep blue eyes.’
‘Then unless she has grievously misled my aunt, the gentleman we are failing to admire cannot be the duke,’ Clio said, looking down on thinning brown hair and seeing a bald spot on top of the man’s head when he removed his hat before entering the house. ‘I am glad for Beth’s sake.’
‘Almost certainly not. I am sure Beth would have heard if the duke was short and bow-legged.’
‘Perhaps, but would that be enough to deter her?’
Adele shook her head, smiling. ‘Very likely not. Anyway, I believe that this man is the dowager duchess’s nephew, her late sister’s only son. I have heard it said that he made himself indispensable to the duchess after Lord Richard died. The current duke was away with the army at the time and when Lord Ezra returned he found Mr Conway installed at Wickham Hall, where he has remained ever since.’
‘I see. One assumes that he is not married.’
‘Presumably not.’
‘And that he recognises an opportunity when he sees one.’
Clio pressed her nose against the window glass, watching from her vantage point as Mr Conway spent at least a minute emphasising a point to Pearson, waving the hand clutching the handkerchief in the air in added emphasis. Pearson remained impassive as the tirade continued.
