Page 5 of The Duke Meets His Match

Chapter 2

April 1814

Susan sat by helplessly andwatched as her youngest sister, Rebecca, cried buckets of tears. “It is so unfair,” Rebecca sobbed, repeatedly dabbing at her overflowing eyes with her handkerchief. “I’ve climbed that silly fence stile hundreds—thousands—of times!Whymust I fallthistime, and not only that butbreak my legwhen we are to leave for London inonly two days!”

This morning, Rebecca had been carried home by a kind, young stranger,her lower left leg slightly askew. Mama had sent for the surgeon, who had arrived not long thereafter and had set and splinted Rebecca’s broken bone. Now it was afternoon, and a few minutes ago, Mama had given her another dose of laudanum.

“Never mind that,” Susan said. “We are only grateful that someone discoveredyou lying there and brought you safely home. Otherwise, who knows how long you would have been there.” Mr. Arnold, the neighbor whose land was adjacent to their father’s property, had died not long ago, and the new owner hadn’t arrived to take possession of it yet. “You shouldn’t have been attempting to cross a stranger’s property anyway.”

“I don’t see why not. Mr. Arnold always let us.” She sniffed and dabbed at her nose again.

“The new owner is not Mr. Arnold, though, is he?” Susan said.

“But it savesso much timewhen walking to the village.” Rebecca sighed. “I know, I know. It was wrong of me. And now I’m being divinely punished for my trespass, and Icannot imaginea worse punishment when all the news says the French are nearly defeated and the war may end at last. The excitement of being in London at such a time if it all comes to pass! The colors and spectacle of it all! The grand ladies and gentlemen! It was to be rollicking good fun, and now I cannot go!” Her sobbing began anew.

Susan was certainly glad the war might be coming to an end, and she completely understood the English population’s desire to celebrate. She waseven willing to admit that personally witnessing the historic events unfold was an intriguing prospect. But the bowing and scraping and fanning oneself and holding back one’s opinion and smiling demurely in London Society was not something she was particularly looking forward to.

Nor was going to London on her own now at the expense of Rebecca’s well-being.

Susan had primarily agreed to Lady Walmsley’s invitation to join her inLondon for the Season because Lady Walmsley had offered to sponsor Rebecca’s belated come-out, and for that, Susan had been willing to tolerate Society for a few months.

London held bad memories for her—memories that had nearly broken her heart. Not that she had ever cared to admit such a thing to anyone.

“I have discovered that I adore the company of young people,” LadyWalmsley had written in her original letter of invitation. “And when I learned of your brother Lucas’s heroic efforts in Spain that saved the life of my dear great-nephew-in-law, I decided I must do something to repay his generosity of spirit.”

Both RebeccaandSusan had been invited. Susan suspected that her owninclusion in the invitation had been so that Lady Walmsley could reassure theirmother, who would undoubtedly have been more agreeable to giving her consentif Rebecca were to be in London with a family member present. They did have a brother currently residing in London, Simon, but as he was sowing quite a few wild oats, he was not a candidate for the job of responsible familial chaperone.

On the off chance that Mama had not been leaning toward giving herpermission, she had been entirely convinced after Lady Walmsley’s aforementionedgreat-nephew-in-law himself, the Earl of Halford, had written to vouch for Lady Walmsley and encourage Mama and Papa to give their permission. “Dear Great-Aunt Margaret” thrived when she had lively young people to keep her company, he’d said. So Mama had written to James, Susan and Rebecca’s older brother who was a solicitor in the city of Lincoln, to see if he would escort the two of them to London and into the safe hands of Lady Walmsley. James had written back promptly, agreeing to accompany them, and would be arriving later today.

And now Rebecca wouldn’t be going to London after all.

“I cannot abandon you after this,” Susan said at last, noting that Rebecca was finally beginning to get drowsy from the laudanum. “I shall write to Lady Walmsley and inform her of your accident, and I shall stay with you and keep you company and help nurse you back to health.” She leaned across the chaise longue in which Rebecca inclined, Rebecca’s splinted leg cushioned by pillows, and patted her sister’s hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave you.”

“But you must!” Rebecca cried. “How else am I going to hear about anything that happens? You must go and write to me every day! You must attend theparades and the balls and, oh, everything!Whydid this have to happen?” She dabbed at her eyes again. “My handkerchief is worthless; it’s just a sopping rag now.”

Susan felt in her pocket for her own handkerchief to give Rebecca, but shedidn’t have one. She rarely thought about things likes handkerchiefs. “Herenow, it’s time you rested. I won’t have you making yourself ill over this.”

“Nor will I,” Mama said as she entered the room with a tray holding a fresh pitcher of water. She set it down and poured a small amount into a cup. “Take a sip of water, dearest, and then you must sleep. Resting will help your leg heal faster.”

Rebecca handed her soaked handkerchief to Susan and obediently sipped from the cup Mama held to her lips, then she closed her eyes, and Mama set the cup back on the tray. “Come, Susan,” Mama whispered.

“Promise me,” Rebecca murmured, nearly asleep already. “Promise me, Susan. You must go, and you must tell me everything.”

Susan sighed. “Very well, my dear. For you, I will go.”

Rebecca gave a tiny nod and slept.

Mama slipped her arm around Susan’s shoulders as they walked down the corridor to the front parlor. “It’s a sorry state of affairs, to be sure, but she will get over the disappointment.”

“I know that,” Susan said. “She is a sweet girl with a reasonable temperament and understands that life has its disappointments. But I feel so guilty going to London without her when it isshewho was so excited about the prospect. Aside from the historical circumstances, the only interest I had in going was to see the expression on her face as she took it all in for the first time.”

“You are too jaded by half, Susan,” Mama said, patting Susan’s hand.

“And I daresay Lady Walmsley will be disappointed when she discovers thatshe is playing hostess to the old spinster bluestocking and not the bloomingdebutante,” Susan said.

“Nonsense!” Mama exclaimed.

“I shall be thirty this fall, Mama. You know as well as I that I’ve been on the shelf for so long as to be completely covered in dust.”

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