An Inconvenient Duke

by Anna Harrington

“Are you old?”

  God help him now. He answered, deadpan, “Ancient.”

  She nodded somberly. “Auntie says you’re old and that you need to get a wife soon or you’ll be too old to—”

  “Penelope,” Claudia scolded, her face flushing. “I said no such thing.”

  Pippa cast her a dark look, spotting that for the lie it was. Then she brought her mouth close to his ear and countered in a whisper loud enough for Claudia to hear, “She did too say that!”

  Marcus fought back a laugh at his sister’s expense.

  “Uncle Marcus.” Pippa leaned far back to glance up at him. He knew that look—the one she used to twist him around her little finger. “Can I have a piece of cake from last night’s party?”

  “Cook’s already made up a good breakfast for you. You wouldn’t want to insult her by not eating it.” Or make herself sick. He’d learned that lesson the hard way last month by letting her have too many sticky buns. How a stomach that tiny could cast up so much, he still had no idea. And with deadly aim on his boots, too.

  “Not for breakfast. For playing soldier.”

  He frowned. During the past few months since his return, he’d become an expert on five-year-old logic, but this request bewildered the daylights out of him. “Why do you need cake to play at being a soldier, poppet?”

  She stared at him as if he’d gone daft. “Because soldiers march with cakes on!”

  Cakes? That was an interesting change to the uniform code.

  Then it hit him. “Not cakes, darling—caissons.” He grinned at her, ignoring the frown on Claudia’s face that once more revealed her worry that Penelope would be raised by a bachelor soldier when she married and left Charlton Place. “Big boxes on carts. I’ll show you the next time we visit the Horse Guards.” Which, judging from Claudia’s deepening frown, might never happen. “Now give me a kiss and scoot upstairs to get dressed.”

  She kissed his cheek.

  “Thank you.”

  “And Brutus, too.” She touched the horse’s muzzle to his cheek and made the sound of a kiss.

  His lips twitched. “Thank you, Brutus.”

  She neighed in reply.

  He laughed and hugged her. If Claudia was worried about his niece being around soldiers and the cavalry, she’d suffer apoplexy to learn that he’d already bought Pippa her own pony, with delivery set for next week. He’d learned to ride when he was five. There was no reason Pippa couldn’t as well, simply because she was a girl.

  He set her down, and she ran upstairs to her nanny who waited on the first-floor landing, galloping the little horse through the air beside her as she ran. Mrs. Davenport took her hand and led her away toward the nursery on the top floor.

  “You’re so good with her, Marcus.” Claudia gave a reassuring squeeze to his arm.

  He turned his attention to tugging at his gloves. “She should have Anthony and Elise with her.”

  “She doesn’t miss them,” she said quietly.

  “I know.” But then, why would she? Her father had died in the wars when she was only an infant, without having ever laid eyes on his daughter. Then, when Elise died two years later, Penelope had barely been three.

  Miss them? He bit back a pained and bitter laugh. She wouldn’t even remember them.

  “But knowing that doesn’t make it any easier for you, does it?”

  Hell no. And especially not when Pippa reminded him so much of Elise as a girl that sometimes he felt as if he were seeing a ghost.

  “You are wonderful with her, Marcus. What you’ve done in getting to know her, even in just the short time you’ve been home, it’s remarkable. And even though I give you a hard time about raising her to be a soldier rather than a society lady, you’re going to continue to be a good influence on her.”

  “So will you.”

  “Less so.” She bit her lip in a moment’s hesitation, then confided, “Adam asked me to marry him, and I agreed.”

  His gaze jumped to hers. Not that he was surprised that Trousdale had asked, but the timing of it was sooner than expected. Far sooner. He’d counted on having another six months at least of calm in the house to give Pippa and him more time to adjust to one another before the frenzy of wedding preparations had to begin.

  Her face fell. “You’re not happy about it.”

  “Of course I’m happy for you.” But damnably sad for himself that he would be losing her from the house right when he needed her help the most, both with Pippa and with the new dukedom. But he would never be selfish enough to prevent her from seeking her own happiness. “He’s a good man with a solid future.” He took her shoulders and placed a kiss on her forehead. “But I expected him to come to me first to declare his intentions.”

  “Adam’s a modern man. He believes in asking a lady what she wants to do with her life rather than her male guardian.” She sparkled with happiness. “But he’s calling on you tomorrow to formally offer, so do try to act surprised, all right?”

  With a light laugh, he hugged her. Still holding her tightly in his arms, his chin resting on the top of her head the way he’d done since they were children, he asked, “You love this man?”

  “Very much.”

  “And he always treats you with respect and kindness?”

  She leaned back to beam up at him. “Always.”

  “Then I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.”

  He released her and turned away, just in time to see two maids carrying the statue of Caesar down the front footpath. He grimaced at the sight. Judging from how far Claudia had gone with the party last night, her wedding portended to be a monstrous extravaganza.

  He slid her a hopeful glance. “Any chance that I could talk you into eloping?”

  “Not one.” She waved a hand to indicate the party’s aftermath lying all around them. “Last night was simply practice for the wedding breakfast.”

  Heaven help him.

  She placed her hand on his shoulder, the simple gesture spinning affection through him. “You’re a good brother, Marcus Braddock. You’ve always been my hero. Nothing will ever change that.” She paused for effect, unsuccessfully stifling her grin at his expense. “Even if you are old as Moses.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Thank you.”

  She rose up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Then she was gone, gliding away toward the garden doors.

  He stared after her. Sweet Lucifer…Claudia was getting married, and he wasn’t at all prepared for it. He was a soldier, for heaven’s sake! What did he know about wedding ceremonies and breakfasts? Nothing in his life had trained him for this. If only he could rally some help around Claudia’s engagement the way he used to rally troops. If only—

  The solution popped into his head. He smiled. Oh, it was perfect!

  Snatching up his hat from the hall table, he hurried back upstairs to Elise’s room. He had a wedding to prepare for…and now the perfect excuse for staying close to Danielle.

  Five

  Dani read the note that had been delivered to her that morning and bit her lip.

  “Bad news, miss?”

  Forcing a smile, she glanced up at her maid’s reflection in the dressing table mirror as the woman pinned up her hair. Unfortunately, she also caught her own reflection. And cringed.

  Oh, she looked a fright! Dark circles surrounding puffy red eyes, pale skin, bloodless lips…but she wasn’t surprised, given that she’d spent last night weeping into her pillow.

  Her maid stilled as she placed a pin, frowning in concern. “Miss?”

  Alice had been with her since Dani returned from school when she was eighteen and embarked on her first true season. But even though her maid was now one of her closest confidantes and one of the few people she trusted with her secrets, she wouldn’t place the burden of Elise’s death onto Alice’s shoulders.

  “It’s nothin
g important,” she dismissed, folding the letter and tucking it away into the pocket of her pelisse. “Just a note from Lady Hartsham.”

  Beatrice McTavish had been irksome of late, sending all kinds of notes. But from the excitable tone behind them, Dani assumed that Lord Hartsham had once more been attempting to control his wife’s activities and so had been making the woman nervous. Again.

  “Is it about Nightingale?” Alice whispered.

  Dani darted a paranoid glance at the door to make certain no one had come in and overheard the name of her secret charity. Especially Harriett. The viscountess knew absolutely nothing about what Dani had been up to in the past four years since her father accepted a diplomatic position in the Court of St James’s and her parents left for Italy. If her aunt ever found out—especially if she discovered that she was the reason for it all—she’d suffer apoplexy right where she stood.

  Or more likely, knowing her aunt, she’d want to help. Which absolutely could never happen.

  No. Danielle had to keep Nightingale a secret. Too many lives were at risk. Including her own. She owed that loyalty to Elise’s memory and to all the women still in need.

  Even now, a brewer’s wife in Ealing was waiting for her help. Thank goodness she’d already planned to meet with Jenkins and Kimball tonight to make arrangements. The former smugglers, who knew her only as Nightingale, would gladly accept the generous payment she’d offer in return for their services in escorting a desperate woman out of London.

  “I need you to deliver a note.” Although they were alone, Dani lowered her voice. “To confirm tonight’s meetings.”

  “Aye, miss.” Alice nodded, knowing how to contact the men through the innkeeper’s wife at the Golden Bell Tavern along the Strand by using false names and taking a circuitous route to return home. Neither the two men nor the innkeeper’s wife knew Dani’s true identity or those of the other women involved. That was exactly how she planned on keeping it.

  Her shoulders sagged. The whole situation had become far too perilous. This wasn’t at all what Nightingale was supposed to have been, but it had grown out of control. Now it was a burden that weighed upon her, one made nearly unbearable by what Marcus had revealed last night.

  A vanishing. When Marcus had said that, she knew he’d told her the truth, that Elise’s death had been exactly as he suspected. He wouldn’t have known to use that word unless it was in the note, which wouldn’t have existed at all unless Elise had established her own network behind Dani’s back. To know that she had a part in her best friend’s death had shattered her insides like glass, right there in Marcus’s arms.

  Elise had lied to her. The stubborn, reckless woman had gone and done exactly what Dani had warned her not to do. She’d put her life into unnecessary danger—

  No. She’d gotten herself killed.

  Sickening nausea roiled inside her. Last night, when Marcus revealed that to her, she’d wanted to flee, to cry and curse and scream! But she’d been trapped within his arms in the middle of the party, with nearly every pair of eyes in the room on them while he’d unwittingly taken Elise from her once again. And this time, so much more brutally.

  So she’d fled behind her only possible defense—her temper. But that anger had come naturally once she realized why he’d asked her to dance, once she felt betrayed.

  He’d wanted answers, but she couldn’t give him any. Not when so many other lives were at risk. This secret she would take to her own grave. Just as Elise had. Too much had been sacrificed to betray those women now.

  “Danielle!” Her aunt’s shout rattled the windows on all four floors of the Bedford Square town house.

  Dani rolled her eyes. Who needed a call bell around Harriett?

  “Join me for breakfast!”

  With no other choice, she yelled back, “Coming!”

  “I don’t think you are!”

  Despite herself, Dani couldn’t help but give a faint giggle when Alice burst into laughter. The release of that small laugh was a godsend given the weight that pressed in upon her. And thank God for it, because there had been a point last night when she wondered how she would be able to live with her guilt over Elise.

  But now she knew she would find a way, that it would be the little things that would guide her through…like her aunt’s antics and her maid’s concern.

  With a grateful squeeze to Alice’s arm, Dani stood and made her way downstairs.

  Harriett was a wonderful woman, kind and generous, always loving, although her lack of propriety even in the most obvious circumstances entertained Dani to no end. It used to embarrass the daylights out of her. Those stories her aunt so dearly loved to tell at parties were enough to make a young lady faint from mortification. All apocryphal, all just odd enough to keep the attention of even the most bored lord, they usually involved one of Harriett’s escapades from her younger and more exuberant days when she’d been one of society’s most sought-after ladies. As an earl’s beautiful daughter, she’d taken society by storm.

  But then she married Viscount Bromley, and her life went horribly wrong.

  When she was a girl, Dani had thought her great-aunt so very odd, relishing being the center of attention and flirting with the young dandies rather than sitting sedately with the matrons her own age. Harriett had come to stay when Dani was fourteen. At the time, she’d thought that her parents had taken her aunt in when the old viscount left for Ireland because Auntie was too irresponsible to stay by herself. Only later did she discover the truth. That Dani’s mother had surprised Harriett with an unannounced visit to find that the viscount had beaten her to within an inch of her life. A beating that hadn’t been the first.

  Mama had spent the next sennight nursing Harriett back to health until she was well enough to travel. Once her aunt was safely ensconced with them in Bedford Square, her father paid a visit to the viscount. Dani would never learn what Papa said to him that day, but her great-uncle left England and never returned.

  Since learning what happened, Dani had come to understand her aunt in a completely new way. She loved and supported Harriett however she could and greatly admired her strength and resilience.

  If not her stories.

  “Good morning, Auntie.” She glided into the morning room to find Harriett at the little card table by the window with the breakfast dishes already in place. Her aunt offered her cheek for a kiss, and Dani obliged, then slid into her chair. “You should have started without me.”

  “Breakfast isn’t nearly as interesting, my dear, when you’re not here.”

  Dani didn’t believe that for a moment. “No one else to fight with over the strawberries, you mean?”

  Harriett winked. “Drummond doesn’t brawl with the same spunk as you.”

  The butler stifled a smile as he stood by the door at the ready.

  “That’s because he gets paid to let you win.” With a smile for Drummond, Dani popped one of the red berries into her mouth. “But I’ll race you to the last one if you’d like.”

  She cackled out a laugh. “Agreed!” Yet she spooned several onto Dani’s plate without any argument, then reached for the silver pot. “Chocolate?”

  “Please.” Dani held out her cup and did her best to hide her concern as she asked, “What was so important that I join you this morning?” Despite a dearth of berry fights, Harriett didn’t normally mind eating alone. It gave her time to pore over the Morning Post, freshly ironed and left by her chair when Drummond carried up the breakfast tray. “Not enough news in the paper this morning to keep your interest?”

  “News? Ha!” She topped off her own cup of chocolate. “I’m only interested in the gossip page. Such nonsense and twaddle, and about the best of society, too.” Then she smiled gleefully, like the cat that had gotten into the cream. “I devour every word of it!”

  With a laugh, Dani tore off a bit of toast and popped it into her mouth.
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br />   “And your meeting tonight?”

  Dani froze in midchew. She asked carefully around the toast, “How do you know about that?”

  “You told me. Remember? The lecture you plan on attending.”

  “Oh.” Relief sank through her. Her secrets were still her own. “That.”

  Harriett stabbed a kipper with her fork and set it onto her plate. A deft stroke of her knife beheaded it. “I might attend with you.”

  “I don’t think you’d enjoy it.” Dani focused her attention on spreading marmalade across her toast. There was no lecture scheduled for tonight. That was simply the excuse she used whenever she needed to meet with her contacts for Nightingale.

  When her aunt said nothing, waiting for her to continue telling more about the nonexistent lecture, Dani shrugged as casually as possible. “It won’t be at all exciting for you, Auntie.”

  “What is it about?”

  She thought quickly—“Canals.”

  “Canals?” Harriett blinked as she absorbed that. “Venetian?”

  “English.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “Yes.”

  Her aunt frowned, puzzled. “You think you’ll find a lecture about the Bridgewater Canals interesting?”

  “Well, I hope so.” Dani couldn’t look at Harriett during that lie and took a bite of her toast. She hated lying to her aunt, always had. After four years, she still wasn’t used to it. “The Duke of Bridgewater has always struck me as an interesting man.”

  “I knew the duke.”

  “Did you?”

  “I was once courted by the duke.”

  That didn’t surprise her.

  “Believe me when I assure you that Little Scroop, as we called him, was not at all interesting.” Resting both elbows on the table, she held her cup between her hands as she pondered the man. “I daresay watching the water flow in one of his canals proved vastly more fascinating.”

  Dani put a strawberry to her lips to hide any traces of a smile.

  “No wonder he died a bachelor.”

  At that, she popped the berry into her mouth to keep from laughing.