Humbled by her apology, Archer kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry I went against your wishes, darling. But know this. I will only ever do so when I think your own choice endangers your life. I won’t ever do it on a whim. Or to punish you.”
“I know you won’t,” she said, once more snuggling up against him.
Pressed up against one another, they fell back asleep.
Sixteen
The next day’s travel was much more pleasant, and Perdita found Archer to be an easy traveling companion. Not too talkative, but not completely silent, either. They talked about books, and mutual acquaintances, and Archer entertained her with some rather unflattering impressions of many members of the ton whom they both found silly or insufferable. He was never cruel, though.
She had supposed they would stop for a brief luncheon, but Archer said that they were almost at their destination. She had supposed to travel much farther that day.
“Will you please tell me where we are bound?” she asked for what felt like the millionth time. “This mysteriousness doesn’t suit you at all.”
He gave a short bark of laughter. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Your Grace. You’ll discover soon enough. And to be honest I’d put our destination off for another hour if it were possible.”
That brought her up short. Why on earth would he take her somewhere that he didn’t wish to go?
When the carriage passed through an ornate gate with a coat of arms she’d seen somewhere before, she felt one particular suspicion winnowing its way to the front of her mind. “That gatehouse is lovely,” she said, hoping to spark some telling conversation.
“I’ve always thought so,” Archer said with a tight smile. “When we were boys my brothers and I used to sneak out of the main house and come here to winkle biscuits from Mrs. Rushton, the gatekeeper’s wife. I’m not sure who lives there now. The Rushtons are long dead.”
“This is your father’s estate,” she said, all the little clues falling into place. “Why on earth would you bring me here?”
Immediately she began brushing out her gown which was travel worn and dusty from the road.
“You needn’t go to trouble with your appearance,” Archer said with wry amusement. “You look lovely as ever. Besides, my parents have traveled before. They understand you might be a bit dusty.”
“But these are your parents, Archer,” she said, running a hand over her hair, which she’d dressed herself. She wished for the hundredth time that he’d let her bring her maid. “They’ll already think I’m your mistress, seeing as how we traveled in a closed carriage from London.” She hated thinking that they might think less of her because of it. She’d known she’d meet them one day. Archer had been her friend for years, and of course when they came to town he would introduce them.
Or would he? She wasn’t so sure now.
“So what if they do?” he said with one brow raised. “To be honest, I think they’ll fall dead on seeing me with a lady at all. Much less one of your stature and beauty.”
“This isn’t funny,” she said, exasperated by his refusal to take her concerns seriously. “I am mortified.”
“Because you’ll be seen with me?” he asked, his mouth tight.
“No, you fool,” she said, losing her temper. “Because they’ll think I’m some conniving harpy who’s using you to gain an introduction to them.”
“Oh, so now I’m the innocent young lad blinded by love into bringing a social climber into his parents’ superior sphere?”
Perdita sighed. If he was going to be this way, they might as well just stop talking. “That’s not the way I meant it.”
“Then how did you mean it? And might I remind you that you are a duchess? I hardly think you need their social support.”
She sighed. That was true at least.
“But why here?” she asked again, never having been answered the first time. “This will surely make things difficult for you with them.”
His eyes grew serious, even stern. “Because this is the one place I could think of where I felt I could keep you safe.”
* * *
A few minutes later, Archer stepped out, opting to hand Perdita down rather than let the footman do it. At the door, Fawkes, the butler at Lisle Hall since he was a child, beamed. “Lord Archer, what a pleasant surprise, if I may be so forward.”
“You may indeed, Fawkes,” he responded. He’d always held the old man in affection. Especially since he’d helped him and his brothers out of some of their worst scrapes. “May I present Perdita, the widowed Duchess of Ormond? She’s going to be staying with us for several days.”
As he’d predicted, Perdita had emerged from the carriage looking as beautiful as she always did. And of course charming Fawkes to the core. “It is my pleasure, Mr. Fawkes,” she said, giving him her sunniest smile. “I hope you will tell me some tales about Lord Archer in his boyhood, for I just know he must have been positively incorrigible.”
The older man bowed, and Archer thought he saw his ears redden. “It will be my pleasure, Your Grace,” he said. “Though in all fairness, his lordship was perhaps not the most incorrigible of them. That was likely Lord Frederick.”
“I thank you for the vote of confidence, Fawkes,” Archer said with a grin. Frederick had been a rascal. “Might you tell me where my parents are at present?”
“They are waiting for you in the blue drawing room, my lord,” the butler said with a smile. “They saw the carriage and guessed that it might be you.”
Archer shook his head at their almost intuitive ability to know when one of their children was in trouble. It had been this way ever since they were small.
“Thank you,” he said to the man. “I’d like the dowager to be put in the rose room, if that’s available. And we are both starving so if cook won’t be too put out we should like a bit of luncheon in our rooms in, oh, around an hour?”
The arrangements made, he took Perdita’s arm and led her up the wide main staircase.
“I like Fawkes,” Perdita whispered as they went. “He seems fond of you.”
“I am fond of him,” Archer said softly. “He made what might have been an awful boyhood a bearable one.”
He realized that was the first thing he’d said to her about what it had been like growing up at Lisle Hall. Ah, well. She’d find out soon enough.
Outside the blue drawing room he turned to her and kissed her briefly on the mouth. “Courage,” he said with a lopsided grin. Taking her arm, they entered the room.
His father, he noticed to some surprise, looked much older than he had the last time Archer had seen him. His mother, however, looked the same as ever.
“You might have sent word that you were coming, Archer,” the duke said with a frown. “We might have been entertaining.”
Both his parents had risen at their entrance, and his mother in particular was giving Perdita speculative looks. “Introduce us to your friend, Archer,” she said, stepping forward to give him a brief hug.
“Mama, Papa,” he said, feeling suddenly nervous, “may I present Perdita, the widowed Duchess of Ormond?”
He watched with some amusement as his mother’s eyes widened and his father’s narrowed. Predictable.
He turned to Perdita, who was looking rather nervous herself. For some reason that gave him courage. “Your Grace, these are my parents, the Duke and Duchess of Pemberton.”
There was a long pause while they all stared at one another. At a total loss for words. Then, his mother, ever the peacemaker, stepped forward and offered Perdita her hand. “My dear, we are of course pleased to meet any friend of Archer’s. And I cannot tell you how sorry we are for your loss.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Perdita said, and Archer was pleased to see her looking a bit more relaxed. “It was some time ago.”
“But one never gets over a thing like that, does one?” his mother persisted. Archer was somewhat relieved when his father stepped forward and bowed over Perdita’s hand. “Welcome to our h
ome, Your Grace. I hope that you will be comfortable here.” Though the look he flashed at Archer indicated that might depend on what his son had to tell him about her reasons for being there.
“Why don’t I show you up to your chambers, Your Grace,” his mother said, slipping an arm over Perdita’s shoulders and leading her from the room.
Archer felt suddenly bereft at the loss of her presence. But at least here she would be safe, he reminded himself.
His father had some of the best guards in the county thanks to an incident where his mother had been accosted in her own garden by a man from town who suffered from a diseased mind. If the gardener hadn’t come upon the man shouting at her, she might easily have been assaulted. Since then, the duke had seen to it that the house and the first few acres of the park were guarded round the clock. It was perhaps overkill, but Archer was glad of it now that he was trying to keep Perdita safe.
With the ladies gone, the duke walked over to a sideboard and poured them both a glass of brandy. “I am surprised to see you here, Archer,” the duke said, his back still turned to him. “I thought you had forgotten how to find the estate.”
“I find that my position with the duke takes up much of my time,” Archer said, though he didn’t bother adding that of late he’d spent more time watching over Perdita than he did dealing with the duke’s correspondence. “I hope it’s not an imposition.”
“Of course not,” his father said, turning from the sideboard with their drinks. He indicated with his head that they should take seats before the fire. At least it wasn’t the study, Archer reflected. That had been the site of all his boyhood scolds. The drawing room was at least neutral territory.
“Though I must admit,” the duke continued, “I was surprised to see you with the duchess. Wasn’t she the sixth duke’s wife? The one who is involved in so much gossip these days?”
“I see your contacts in town are informative, as always,” Archer said, taking the seat opposite his father. “Though it is true, there has been some talk.”
“I believe someone accused her of killing her husband?” The duke’s expression didn’t change.
Archer wished he could know what he was thinking. He might be better able to form his argument that way. But it was impossible to tell the direction of his thoughts. As usual. “Yes, there has. But it isn’t true.”
“You were there?” the duke asked. “I don’t recall you saying anything about it in your letters.”
“No, I wasn’t there. But I was privy to the story just after it happened.” He told his father about what had actually happened to Gervase, his treatment of Perdita, how she and Isabella and Georgina had been targeted by someone who blamed them for the Duke of Ormond’s death.
His father shook his head in disbelief when Archer was finished. “That is certainly a complicated tale. Though I had heard something to that effect about the young duke and his dealings with women. There was talk that he’d beaten a whore to death not long after he left university. It was hushed up, of course, because he was a duke, but you know how rumors go. Especially among the older peers. We do like a good gossip, I am ashamed to say.”
Archer, who hadn’t heard that about the prostitute, blanched. Had Gervase lost his control in the same way with Perdita? It was not to be borne.
His father, to his credit, said, “I admit now that I am sorry I encouraged you to take that position with young Ormond. He was not the kind of man in whose employ I wished you to be.”
At an earlier time in his life, Archer would have given his right arm to hear those words from his father’s mouth. But he was surprised to realize that perhaps because recounting the tale to Perdita had lanced the old wound, he no longer held a grudge against his father over the matter. “I am grateful to hear you say it, Papa, but I have reconciled myself to the matter. I would, however, like to discuss purchasing a small property some time before we leave.”
The duke’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. It wasn’t for nothing that he’d raised five boys. “You’re in love with her, I take it?”
Archer simply nodded. “It is a complicated situation. She is, as one might expect, reluctant to marry again so soon after gaining her freedom from her husband. But I would like to ensure I have some means of taking care of her if we are to wed. I have invested the money that my aunt left me and it has done quite well.”
“That seems sensible,” the duke said. “I will be more than happy to discuss the matter with you.” His brow furrowed. “You are not in the least bit like the late duke, however. If the duchess can’t see that then perhaps she’s not the wife you’re looking for.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Archer said, surprised at how warm his father’s approval made him feel. “However, I do understand her reasoning. She was in love with him at first, you see, so she doesn’t trust her own judgment. And means to marry someone she doesn’t love.”
“It’s a damnable coil, son,” the duke said wryly. “I don’t mind telling you that I have my doubts about your pursuing someone who is so muddled about what she really wants. Marriage is difficult enough without having your wife distrust you simply because she trusts you.”
When put that way it was rather more complicated than Archer had thought. Even so, he still meant to convince her of his suitability. “I’ll deal with it, Father. For now, what I wish from you is quite simple. I want to keep her here for a bit until I can figure out who is threatening her.”
“Of course, that will be fine,” the duke said with a nod. “You know how your mother loves having guests. Though you may not have come at the most … amenable time considering you wish to marry the young duchess.”
A knot of dread formed in Archer’s stomach. “What is it?”
“Well, it’s nothing too awful,” the duke said with a half grin. “It’s just that your brothers are here.”
Archer’s mouth fell open. “All of them?” he asked in a bewildered tone. “How on earth did that happen? And why wasn’t I invited?”
“Oh, give over,” the duke said. “There were no invitations. Rhys is here because he makes his home here, of course. Benedick has the living so he’s always underfoot. You knew that, too. Frederick was a surprise, I must say. He appeared out of the blue one afternoon saying he’d grown tired of Paris and needed a bit of rustication. Your mama thinks he had his heart broken by some Continental harpy, but I don’t think he’s got a heart to break. Then Cam is here, of course, because he’s in search of another rock for his collection or some such nonsense. He spends most of his days down at the beachhead, though.”
Archer heaved a great sigh. He had thought they’d be here alone with his parents. Not the most entertaining of situations, but far, far better than being here with all of his brothers underfoot. Trying to figure out why they were here. What was going on among them. Thinking it would be a great deal of fun to seduce Perdita away from him.
Dammit.
His father gave him a look of commiseration. “I daresay it won’t be as bad as all that,” he said. “And at the very least they can serve as additional watchdogs for your Perdita. It will take a determined troublemaker to infiltrate six Lisle men in protective mode.”
“I suppose,” Archer said with another sigh.
“Come on, son,” the duke said, rising from his chair. “Go upstairs and change out of your travel filth and have something to eat. You know your mama demands we all be in attendance for tea at three sharp.”
Morosely, Archer followed his father up the stairs to his bedchamber.
* * *
Perdita looked avidly around her as she followed the Duchess of Pemberton up the stairs to her bedchamber. Everything was a possible clue to the inner workings of Archer’s mind. Perhaps this painting had been one that he’d liked as a child. Perhaps that rug had cushioned his fall when he’d tripped chasing one of his brothers. It was impossible not to see this house as the one in which he’d grown up. And despite herself, she was fascinated by it.
Not the leas
t of her interest was centered upon the woman at her side. Though Archer seemed to have taken most of his looks from his father, who had the same blond hair—though the duke’s was graying at the temples—and build, it was his mother whose fine features he’d inherited. From the straight line of his nose to his high cheekbones, Archer looked like his mother. Though on Archer the features were masculine, on his mother they were ethereally lovely.
“I’m so pleased that Archer brought you to visit us,” the duchess said as they passed what looked to be a music room. “I don’t think he’s ever brought a lady to visit before.”
That wasn’t all too surprising, Perdita supposed, since Archer didn’t spend a great deal of time pursuing women. At least not that she could recall. Since he’d been at Ormond House he’d been fairly focused on his position. She didn’t recall his name being linked with any ladies.
“I am grateful to you and His Grace for having me,” Perdita said aloud. “We arrived here without notice, so I do understand that I am perhaps throwing your household into a bit of a crisis.”
“Oh, not at all,” the older lady said, stopping before a doorway, and opening the door to reveal a prettily decorated room with rose silk on the walls and lovely rose-patterned bed hangings. “Here we are.”
“What a lovely bedchamber,” Perdita said, stepping in, appreciating the plush Aubusson carpets beneath her feet. “I know I’ll be quite comfortable here.”
“There is a dressing room with a lovely large bathtub through that door. If you wish to have a bath, just ring the bell. Is your maid with you?”
“I’m afraid not,” Perdita said, cringing at what she must be thinking. “We left rather in a hurry.”
If she was curious, the duchess didn’t show it. “Then I will have the housekeeper assign one of the parlormaids to look after you.”
Why Lords Lose Their Hearts Page 16
