by Ella Quinn
Alex recalled what his brother-in-law had said.
“There will come a time when a lady catches your eye and the rest of your body will follow suit. No matter what you do, you cannot get her out of your mind.”
He drank half his glass of champagne. “Why are females so difficult?”
“If you ask them, they will tell you we are the difficult ones.” Huntley handed his goblet to a passing footman. “Why would we want them to be different than they are? Where would be the challenge?”
“A challenge.” Alex had been leaning against the wall but now straightened. He hadn’t thought of it that way. Dorie was definitely a challenge. His greatest one yet. “Did you know she is introducing me to other ladies?”
Her brother grinned. “I did tell you she was managing.”
Managing, beautiful, outspoken, and Alex didn’t think he could live without her. Perhaps it was time to admit he was in love. And like any good challenge, he had to have a plan. He had thought they were coming to know each other during their morning sessions. But obviously not well enough or she wouldn’t still be trying to find him a wife. He had to do something to convince her that he loved and wanted her, but other than taking her into his arms—he could imagine the poor maid’s reaction to that—what? If he hadn’t promised not to tell her that he’d offered for her he could tell her that. But he had. And the situation with Miss Chatham was complicating matters. He was surprised Huntley hadn’t mentioned it.
Dorie had a tight, polite smile on her face as she walked off the dance floor with Fotheringale. That made Alex feel better. Tomorrow he’d ask her if she’d like to go for a carriage ride.
Damn. He was already taking Lady Joan tomorrow and Miss Chatham the next day. Well, then the day after. But tomorrow he was sending messages to the ports to ask about the weather. Dursley better have a good reason he was taking so long. Alex had serious courting to do.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The day after Lady Bellamny’s ball, several bouquets of flowers were delivered from Fotheringale. The notes all had the same message, that he hoped she forgave him. One bouquet was composed of her favorite flowers—daisies and nigellas, trimmed with ivy. It had to be Lord Exeter. He was the only gentleman who had asked which blooms she liked the best. She opened the note.
I hope you suffered no ill effects from the incident yesterday. I intend to speak to the young men who were so reckless.
Yr. devoted servant,
Exeter
P.S. If you will have your groom tell my groom when you plan to ride in the morning, I will present myself in the Park at the appointed hour. In the event your mother is also reading this missive—as I shall read notes from gentlemen sent to my sisters—I do not intend an illicit meeting.
Dorie laughed out loud, drawing her mother’s attention. When Mama came over Dorie handed her the message. “I never knew he had such a good sense of humor.”
Her mother appeared perplexed. “But you mentioned that he was funny.”
She was laughing too hard to answer Mama. “I suppose I did.”
A few minutes later, her mother chuckled. “Very well done, indeed.” She gave Dorie an appraising look. “Are you certain you do not wish to consider him as a suitable husband?”
That brought her amusement to an end. “No. If he were truly in love with me, would he not try to arrange a secret time for us to be together?”
Her mother’s brows rose to the edge of her lacy cap. “Not unless he was a here-and-therian who was looking to be called out by your father and brother.”
Just the thought made her ill. “They would not do that. Dueling is illegal.”
“Well, perhaps not,” Mama admitted. “They are much more likely to send the man on a trip to the Antipodes.” She glanced at the note and chuckled again. “I shall send a message to the stables that Lord Exeter’s groom is to be told when you are riding.”
Oh, good Lord! Why had Dorie handed her mother the missive? She had completely forgotten that her mother was not supposed to know she rode in the morning. But Mama just acted as if it was no surprise to her. “How long have you known?”
“My dear girl, from the moment you decided to call for your horse at such an ungodly hour. How did you think that I would not have been informed?”
“I thought only Papa knew.” What really amazed her was that her mother never said anything.
“He did, as well as the night footman, the stable master, your maid—although she did not mention it—the scullery maid, and Cook.” She had no idea she was so horrible at skulking around. “You needn’t frown so. If you learn nothing else from this, you now know that it is hard to keep a secret in a large household.”
What disgusted her most was that she was not as clever as she thought she was. “Apparently.”
Her mother just smiled. “We love you and want you to be happy. Even if that means you have to get up with the sun and ride ventre à terre.”
“If I had known that, I could have slept longer.” As she would tomorrow.
This time her mother laughed from deep within.
As she made her way to the music room, she thought about the gossip she had heard at the ball last night. Even if she wanted to consider Exeter, she could not. According to the gossip, it was now certain he would wed Miss Chatham. Her father was only waiting for the offer. And since Lord Exeter was an honorable gentleman who had raised expectations, it would not be long. He was most likely only riding with her in the morning in order to have someone to race against.
The next morning, Exeter stood next to Willa waiting for Dorie.
“Good morning.” She expected him to merely assist her to mount; instead he placed his hands on her waist and lifted her onto her horse. Goodness. She had forgotten his strength and the breathless feeling she got from being lifted.
“Good morning.” He looked a little sleepy, and she hoped nothing was amiss. “Thank you for sending the message.”
“My mother sent it.” She took up her reins and started Willa.
He blinked and looked as if he was truly awake. “I thought she didn’t know. I mean, I added the postscript, but I actually did not expect her to read it.”
“Well.” Dorie grimaced. “That was my fault. I laughed so hard when I read it that I handed it to her.” She blew out a resigned breath. “It turns out that she has known all along. I am not nearly as sneaky as I thought I was.”
Lord Exeter grinned. “That’s not a bad thing.”
“I suppose not.” She had a hard time not grumbling.
Once they reached the Park, they alternated between racing and walking their horses. Titan still refused to run past Willa, and Dorie could swear the mare was flirting with the gelding.
“I am to be admitted to the Lords later this week,” he commented. “Your father and Lord St. Eth are sponsoring me.”
“As pleased as I am to hear that, I still do not fully understand why none of your father’s friends came forward.”
Shrugging, he shook his head. “They thought I should wait until autumn.”
“Whatever for? You are a peer and should take your seat. Whether or not their wives wish to ask you to their entertainments should have no bearing on that.” Not only that, but he had been accepted at Almack’s.
“The new governess, Miss Holliwell, is excellent,” he said changing the subject. “I shall make a point of thanking your mother for her recommendation.”
It was on the tip of Dorie’s tongue to tell him she had made the recommendation, but she did not. It was better if he thought her mother had done it. “Just do not do it before eleven in the morning.”
His smile almost blinded her, and she wished she had not held him at arm’s length for so long. “I’ll keep that in mind, my lady. I would like you to call me Alex.” He slid her a glance, but she could see nothing but friendship in his eyes.
&nbs
p; That would not be wise. She could not call a gentleman by his first name when he was going to wed another woman. “I do not think it is appropriate.”
His lips formed a thin line, showing his disapproval, or disappointment, and he gave an imperceptible nod. “Very well.”
* * * *
Later that morning, Dorie stood behind Exeter looking over his shoulder as he began to transcribe the numbers from several invoices to the current journal. A pot of tea, now grown cold, still stood on the end of the table.
He had easily mastered every aspect of estate management they had discussed from the care of tenants, to animal husbandry, to drainage and crops. He had even risen to the level of being able to argue with her about the merits of certain theories over others. Yet how he never managed to make his accounts balance was a mystery to her.
Then she saw it. “That is seventy-two not twenty-seven.”
Staring at the page, he blinked. “Ah, so it is. Thank you.”
A few seconds later he transposed another set of numbers. “Thirty-nine, not ninety-three.”
Throwing his pencil down in frustration, he leaned his head back against the large leather chair. “This is hopeless.”
“Perhaps if you take more time and look at the figures carefully.” She lowered herself slowly onto the chair next to his.
“I do look at them carefully, but sometimes, a lot of times, the numbers just do not make sense.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Or rather they do, but they’re not the right numbers.”
She had a cousin who complained that letters changed shape and wouldn’t remain still. Could Exeter have the same type of problem with numbers? “Do you just switch them around or do they move and change shapes on their own?”
“They do not move.” Turning his head, he glared at her. “I simply have trouble seeing them properly at times.”
That was better than what her cousin had to deal with. Still, one must be able to do one’s accounts. How else would he know if someone was cheating him? “Is it only when you are writing numbers down?”
His lips formed a thin line as he drew in a breath. He obviously did not like her questions. “No. It takes me a few moments before I can make out the time on my watch.” Exeter blew the breath out. “I’ve had this problem all my life.”
“However did you get through school?” She had heard how demanding Eton could be.
“A friend looked over all my work before I turned it in. Tests were more difficult, but I managed to pass.”
“Have you always done your own accounts?” Not that he had had much of a household before he took the title.
“When we were traveling, my valet kept the books. But I cannot ask him to perform that function for the household or, indeed, for the estates. I suppose I could rely on my steward, but I need to know if he is doing his job properly.”
That was true and the reason they were going through this. But without someone monitoring Exeter’s—she could not continue thinking of him in such a familiar manner. Still, she would not call him Alex—failure to write numbers down correctly, he would not be able to make out if they were correct. She thought of the charities in which she was involved. “You need a bookkeeper, possibly more than one.”
He stared at her, frowning. “A what?”
“A bookkeeper. Someone whose job it is to keep account of the finances. If you have two bookkeepers and they do not meet, then you will be able to ensure that you have a check of sorts.”
His brow cleared and he grinned at her. “You are amazing. I would have never thought of hiring someone whose sole function was doing the accounts, but I believe you are correct.”
Dorie allowed herself to bask in his approval. Gentlemen seldom appreciated a clever lady. Some of them didn’t even listen to a lady who was shouting a warning. Yet more to the point was where to find an accomplished bookkeeper or two?
“Where would we find one?” His hair was mussed, making her want to straighten it. Staring at the column, he dragged a hand down the side of his face. “I don’t think I know anyone who has a bookkeeper.”
She was pleased they were thinking along the same path. Where did one find a bookkeeper to hire? The person must also be honest and reliable. “I know that some businesses hire them.”
He tapped his long fingers on the desk, then glanced up at her. “We could ask at Rundell and Bridge.”
“That is an excellent idea!” Dorie found she was excited to be included in the search. After all, he had said “we.” “Shall we call for my phaeton?”
Exeter threw her a quizzical glance. “Ah, yes. We would not wish to waste any time.”
She pulled the bell-pull and informed the footman who answered that she required her carriage and that his lordship would like a cup of tea while he was waiting for her. “I shall be back directly. I must change my gown.”
Without waiting for him to respond, Dorie hurried out of the study, her maid on her heels. “My lady, the primrose carriage gown?”
“That is a good choice.” Thirty minutes later, she descended the stairs to find Exeter waiting for her in the hall.
“Your phaeton has just been brought around.” He offered her his arm as she reached the bottom step.
“Banwell, we are going to Rundell and Bridge and shall return as soon as we have completed our undertaking.”
Exeter helped her into the phaeton, then went around and climbed into the passenger side. Her groom let go of the horses and scrambled on the back as Dorie started out of Grosvenor Square. The distance to Ludgate Hill was less than three miles, but the traffic was heavy and it would take some time to arrive at the jewelers. This was actually the first time she had driven her carriage anywhere other than to the Park, but she knew the way well, having been there many times with her mother and sister-in-law.
Speaking of mothers. “Have you heard from Lady Exeter?”
“I did.” He had a look of chagrin on his handsome face. Why was she noticing it now? “She was not at all happy that I refused to allow the girls to live with her.” He pulled his lips down ruefully. “Neither was she pleased with my tone in the letter.”
Dorie wondered exactly what her ladyship was thinking, wanting her daughters to come live with her. She had harmed them enough. Nevertheless, it was still hard for any mother to be denied her children, even when her actions had caused the problem. “You might take them to see her this summer as long as no one knew about it.”
“Perhaps.” He lapsed into relative silence.
She decided to focus on small talk. “The weather has been lovely.”
“Yes. I am informed that the first shoots have started appearing in the fields.” He sounded as if he was thinking about other things.
“That will be good news for the whole country.” She used a cheery tone, but it was true. They had barely recovered from the disaster of two summers ago and this year had not started out to be promising.
“I must apologize. Your suggestion about the children was a good one.” He shrugged. “I am not certain how happy my mother would be to see us after I berated her for marrying so quickly and leaving Penelope and Phillida to bear the consequences of her behavior.”
Dorie wondered what they would encounter if they did visit. She did not know how his sisters would react to seeing their mother then being made to leave. What if someone discovered Lady Exeter had not been cut from their lives? Unfortunately, she had not spent much time with them to know how they felt at all. Although her younger sister had. Would Ophelia share what she knew?
“Well, in that case, you are probably right to leave well enough alone.” Unless Dorie discovered something that would change the circumstances. “Did you have a pleasant ride with Lady Joan?”
“She is very nice,” he said noncommittally.
“I have always found her so. She is…Oh, what is the word? Energetic. That is
it. She is always so much fun to be with, but can be calm and patient when needed. Very few things upset her, or make her angry.” Thus making her the perfect woman to finishing raising Exeter’s sisters.
“Did you know that she has no opinion when it comes to politics and prefers not to be involved?”
For the love of God! She was a duke’s daughter. Surely she knew how important being a good political hostess was. “I cannot believe it. Her family is as politically active as mine is.”
“I was surprised as well. It appears that her family is so voluble about the subject that she has developed an anathema to politics. She prefers to engage in charitable activities.”
Dorie had had no idea. Of her friends, only Henrietta and Augusta discussed politics. Unfortunately, Joan’s lack of interest made her completely unacceptable. Well, that had not gone well. There had to be the perfect lady for him. One with whom he could share his interests, duties, and love. Of course, if he was going to marry Miss Chatham, Dorie was wasting her time. That match still did not feel right. “Naturally, a lady should have her charities, but it is also important that bills are passed to improve the lot of our countrymen and women so that they are not dependent on charities. Which, by the way, never have enough funds for their needs.”
“I cannot say that I know much about private charities. Although, I have been speaking with your mother and some other ladies about where best to invest in them.”
That was a surprise. “Well, if you want my opinion.” Dorie and Exeter were on Fleet Street and the traffic, vehicular and pedestrian, was so horrid that she did not dare look at him. But out of the corner of her eye she saw him nod. “I would speak to Lord Merton and Lord Worthington about the charities their ladies founded. That is where my money is going.”
