Why Lords Lose Their Hearts

by Manda Collins

  “Thank you so much, Your Grace,” Perdita said sincerely. She was truly appreciative that rather than throwing her out, Archer’s parents had greeted her with open arms. “I don’t know what I’d have done if you and your husband hadn’t been so welcoming.”

  The duchess squeezed her hand. “I know that if Archer thinks you are worth knowing, then you must be. He has always been an excellent judge of character. I think that comes of being the youngest. He often had to guess what his brothers were going to get up to before they even started planning it.”

  Perdita laughed. “That makes sense. I should like to have met his brothers, too.”

  “Oh, then you shall have your wish, my dear, because they are all of them staying here just now.”

  Perdita tried to hide her surprise. She’d gotten the impression that Archer chose to bring her here because of its relative seclusion and safety. Still, she couldn’t be sorry that she’d be able to meet the men whom he was closest to in the world.

  “Now, my dear,” the duchess said. “I will leave you to refresh yourself and to have a bit of luncheon. We will have tea in the drawing room at three. I do hope you’ll join us.”

  Perdita shut the door behind her and went to the bellpull to ring for a bath. If she were going to meet his brothers she’d prefer to make a good impression.

  Seventeen

  Some hours later, Archer entered the drawing room to see that Frederick and Rhys were already there, talking in hushed tones before the fireplace. The way they broke apart when he called out a greeting let him know they were talking about him.

  His mother was seated before the table where the tea would be placed in a few minutes. “Darling,” she said on seeing him, “come sit by me and tell me about your pretty Perdita.”

  “Yes, Archie,” Frederick said, batting his eyelashes, “tell us all about your Perdita. Is she really as pretty as all that, for I cannot quite believe that Baby Archie was able to land a beauty.”

  “Don’t be an ass, Fred,” Rhys said with his usual bossiness. “Archer is a Lisle, after all, and we never settle.”

  “Boys, you are being rude to your brother,” the duchess said to her elder sons. “Don’t make me call your father.”

  Behind his mother’s back Frederick made a rude gesture to Archer, who merely raised a brow at him. “What do you wish to know, Mama?” he said, taking a seat beside her on the settee and kissing her cheek. As the baby of the family he’d often served as the butt of his brothers’ jokes, but there were benefits, as well. One was the close relationship he shared with his mother. While some ladies of the ton only saw their children infrequently and rarely visited the nursery, the Duchess of Pemberton had been very much a presence in her sons’ lives. While she did hire nannies and nurses and later tutors, she made it a priority to spend at least a few hours a day up in the nursery with them. And she wasn’t the sort to hand them back to the nanny as soon as things got difficult. As a result, all of her sons held her in great affection. That they were also close to their father made them a bit of an anomaly within the upper ten thousand.

  “Well,” she said, as she pulled a thread through her needlepoint screen. “I should very much like to know what your intentions are,” she said, “though I don’t suppose you’ll want to tell me that.”

  Archer bit back a sigh of relief. The last thing he wished to speak of while his brothers were present was his intentions.

  “But I will settle,” his mother continued, “for hearing how you know one another and what sort of person she is.”

  Before he could speak, Cam, Ben, his father, and Perdita entered the room. Archer rose to go to Perdita, who looked relieved to see him. He hadn’t considered that she might feel a bit at sea in his parents’ home. He’d just assumed that because she was used to aristocratic homes she’d manage well enough. But this was no regular country visit.

  “Are you well?” he asked in a low voice as he led her to the settee. “Did you find everything to your liking?”

  “Of course,” she said with a sweet smile that reminded him that after days of traveling together he’d missed her these past few hours. Which was ridiculous, but true nonetheless. “Your mama was very welcoming toward me. And your father and brothers were perfectly friendly.”

  Once he’d seen her situated he turned to greet Ben and Cam, who gave him hearty pounds on the back. “Didn’t think we’d see you back in this neck of the woods again, little brother,” Benedick said with a grin. “And here you’ve come, and not only that but with a lovely lady on your arm. Well done.”

  “That’s what we meant to say,” Frederick said from an armchair beside the settee. “Well done.”

  “Gentlemen, please,” the duchess said in a scolding tone. “You are making our guest uncomfortable.”

  But as Archer had suspected, Perdita could more than hold her own. “I beg you will not reprimand them, Your Grace,” she said, accepting a cup of tea from her hostess. “For I am quite familiar with this sort of thing, having several male cousins and indeed a brother-in-law of my own.”

  “You are very sweet to excuse them, my dear,” the duchess said, “but my sons know very well that they are being rude.”

  “Sorry, Mama. Your Grace,” Ben said with a slight bow. When Frederick said nothing, the duchess glared at him until he turned red. “Very well, Mama. I apologize, Your Grace. Though honestly, Mama, you are very rough on a fellow’s amour propre.”

  “Frederick,” the duke said with a sigh, “will you never be suitable for polite company?”

  “I assure you, sir, I am quite suitable for some polite company,” his son replied, biting into a macaroon. “Just not here.”

  Changing the subject, Archer said, “What brings you to England, Fred? I thought you would never return from the Continent.”

  “It began to pall,” his brother said with a shrug. “And I thought a bit of country air might do me some good.”

  Rhys scowled at Frederick, but didn’t say anything to refute his brother’s story. Instead he crossed his booted feet and leaned back in his chair. “Archer, why don’t you tell us what it is that made you flee London with the notorious dowager Duchess of Ormond? For the life of me, I cannot think of a reason that does not place you in a scandalous position.”

  Archer’s back stiffened and he put his teacup down. “I should watch my words if I were you, Rhys,” he said in a deadly calm voice. “For you are insulting the lady.”

  “Indeed, Rhys,” the duke said with a scowl that mirrored his firstborn’s. “I have accepted the widowed duchess as a guest in our home, therefore you can have nothing to say on the matter.”

  “I think it very much is my business when our family’s reputation is at stake, Father,” the marquess said, rising from his chair. “This lady has been accused of murdering her husband. As well as carrying on an affair with Archer. Is it really appropriate for him to bring his mistress to stay for an extended visit?”

  Archer stood, and the entire room went still. “Watch yourself, Rhys. I am not above calling you out for your slurs.”

  “Oh, I beg you, please,” Perdita said, standing, as well. “Do not fight on my account. I will simply remove to the nearest inn.”

  Turning to the duke and the duchess, she said, “I apologize for bringing strife into your household. I thank you for your hospitality.”

  “You will do no such thing,” the duke said. “Rhys, Archer, I will see you both in my study.” When neither man broke the stare that connected them, the duke added, “Now.” He left the room, and after a moment, so too did Archer and Rhys.

  * * *

  Perdita had never been so horrified in her entire life. Not only had her presence caused a fight between Archer and his brother, but he’d threatened to call the other man out on her behalf. This was the second time in a week that he’d defended her honor. And honestly, she wasn’t quite so sure she was worth it.

  When their brothers and father left the room, the remaining Lisles, along with the
duchess, put themselves to great pains to make her feel better.

  “Rhys always has been a stiff-rumped beast … er, fellow,” Frederick said with a genuinely apologetic smile. “I’m sorry for my teasing earlier. It’s a great failing of mine. Also, I think it goes for all of us that we’re all madly jealous of Archie at the moment. Who knew he had it in him?”

  “Not I,” Ben said dryly. “Though I always knew he could be persuasive with the ladies. Recall the Kimball twins.”

  All brothers sighed at the name.

  “Your Grace,” Cam said, his eyes the same color blue as Archer’s though with his mother’s dark hair, “the Kimball twins are the daughters of a local squire, and when we were in our teens—I believe at that point Rhys and Ben were off at university—they were the prettiest girls in the county. As their parents were friendly with ours, they were frequent visitors here. And we all harbored, hm, let us say, feelings for them.”

  “I didn’t know about that,” their mother said with surprise. “I thought you hated them.”

  “That is the way young men show their affection, Mama,” Benedick said with a grin. “Did you not know? That and pulling at their hair.”

  “They did have lovely hair, didn’t they?” Frederick asked in a dreamy voice. “And wonderful, large—”

  “Eyes,” Cam said with a glare at his brother. Who only laughed and gave Perdita a saucy wink. “In any event, we were all besotted with the twins and we wanted desperately for them to put at least two of us out of our misery. At the time, Archer was twelve, I think?”

  “Yes,” Frederick said with a grin. “His voice had just changed and he liked to go around reciting poetry in his new deeper voice. It was like a new toy.”

  “Hah,” Cam laughed. “I remember that! It’s why we got him to do it.”

  “Do what?” Perdita asked, intrigued despite herself. The idea of Archer at twelve, just coming into his deep voice—which was one of his best features—was so endearing. She’d bet he had floppy blond curls and an angelic face. How could the Kimball twins resist?

  “We had just read Romeo and Juliet and Fred had the idea to have him recite Romeo’s speech from the balcony scene under their bedchamber window one summer night.”

  “You didn’t?” their mother gasped, horrified. “Why didn’t the Kimballs tell us about this? Oh, you boys! I had no idea you were getting up to something like this!”

  “Of course we went along because Archer was far too young for them. They were fourteen and as I said before, they had very large—”

  “Eyes,” Cam said again. “At any rate, we went there, and had Archer recite the words while Fred and I stood in the moonlight, gazing up at their windows with calf’s eyes, and when they called down and told us to wait for them, we thought we’d won at Ascot.”

  “When they finally came out, we were waiting for them in the garden. Archer had tagged along because he thought it was his right as our orator.” Frederick made an annoyed face. “Leave it to him to talk his way into things. He was always doing that. He should have been a barrister.”

  “So what happened?” Perdita prodded.

  “We thought they’d take one look at us, fall in love, and kiss us senseless.” Cam shook his head at the memory. “Instead they took one look at us, and asked where the one who’d recited the lines was. Archer stepped forward and they both walked up to him and each one kissed him on the cheek.”

  Perdita couldn’t help but laugh. It served them right for using his gift for themselves.

  “That’s not all,” Frederick said with a grin. “They told us that we should be ashamed of ourselves for taking advantage of our sweet brother. Then they flounced off. Never to speak to us again.”

  Cam ran a finger under his neck cloth. “Not quite.”

  Frederick’s eyes widened, “What?”

  But Perdita had guessed. “You kissed one of them later, didn’t you?”

  Looking guilty, Cam nodded. “Not for about a year or so, but yes. I think it was Amy.” His brow furrowed. “Or was it Amanda?”

  “You never could tell them apart, could you?” Frederick asked with disgust. “Amy was the one with the mole on her right cheek. Amanda had it on the left.”

  “I thought it was the other way round,” Cam said with a frown.

  While the two debated the issue, Perdita was brought back to reality as she remembered Archer, Rhys, and their father leaving the room in a cloud of anger. As if sensing her worry, the duchess patted her hand. “Don’t worry, my dear,” she said in a low voice. “I doubt their father will let them shoot each other. He dislikes violence. And besides that, by questioning your presence here, Rhys has questioned his father’s decision, which my Harry will not stand for.”

  Perdita hoped she was right. Because if she were the cause of a rift between Archer and his family she’d never forgive herself.

  * * *

  Archer barely managed to rein in his temper as he followed his father and Rhys to the study. This was the site of every dressing-down he’d ever received at his father’s hands. And he was old enough to recognize that one of them was about to endure the same sort of scold. He just hoped it would be Rhys and not himself.

  “Shut that door behind you, Archer,” his father said as they stepped inside. “I have no wish for the servants to overhear this.”

  After doing as he’d been directed, Archer stepped forward to stand behind one of the chairs facing his father’s enormous mahogany desk. Rhys stood behind the other.

  “Father, I fail to see why simply stating the facts about the lady and the rumors that follow her makes me the villain here,” Rhys said before either Archer or his father could speak. “She truly is rumored, along with her sister and friend, to have murdered her husband. A duke of the realm! Even if she didn’t do it, I fail to see how her presence here cannot bring down suspicion upon our own household.”

  Archer was ready to jump in, but his father spoke first. “Rhys, I appreciate your concern for the family name, but you forget that you are not yet the Duke of Pemberton. I am. And as long as I am, I will make the decisions about whom to welcome and whom to banish from this house. And despite your misgivings, I trust Archer in this.”

  The marquess let out a grunt of frustration. “Papa, he is obviously having an affair with the woman. Of course he trusts her. Men will believe anything when it comes from a beautiful piece of—”

  Archer’s arm shot out as he gripped his brother by the neck cloth. He didn’t even realize he was doing so until he saw Rhys’s face turn red with fury. “Let me say this again, my lord,” he said through clenched teeth. “The lady is my guest and my friend. And I will not have you or any man speak of her in such demeaning terms. Do I make myself clear?”

  Though he could see that Rhys longed to tell him to take himself off to the nearest lake and jump in, his brother finally nodded. “Crystal,” he said. Then to Archer’s surprise, he continued. “I was wrong to speak of her in such terms. I apologize.”

  He felt some tightness within him relax as he loosened his hold on his brother’s cravat and stepped back. One thing he could say about Rhys. He always admitted when he was wrong. And was never slow to apologize for it. He was still angry with him, but the apology went a long way toward soothing his ruffled feathers.

  “I believe Archer has stated the case better than I could, Rhys,” the duke said firmly. “I hope I won’t hear you speaking that way about any other lady who is a guest in this house ever again.”

  “Yes, Father,” Rhys said with a nod. “I apologize to you, as well.”

  “Apologies are very nice,” the duke said, his lips pursed, “but what I think you fail to realize is that I take this family’s good name very seriously. And I understand your concerns for what might be said about us for harboring the duchess. But perhaps I should let your brother explain the matter to you.”

  He waved a hand to the chairs, and the brothers sat. Quickly, Archer explained what had happened the day that Gervase had been k
illed, as well as what was going on with regard to the threats against Perdita.

  When he told the story about what had happened at Vauxhall, Rhys swore. “What kind of monster thinks to do that? It’s as if he is searching out her deepest fears and then enacting them upon her. The sort of man who would send a minion to throw pig’s blood on a lady is not far from perpetrating violence against her person.”

  At his brother’s capitulation, Archer breathed a sigh of relief. He’d known that as soon as he told him he’d understand why he was so worried about Perdita’s safety. “I agree,” he said with a nod. “Which is why I thought to bring her here.”

  “Because of the guards,” Rhys said, grasping the situation immediately. “I think that’s sound reasoning. Also, because you know Lisle Hall so well, you know every possible entrance or vulnerable spot. You can ensure that she remains in the safer parts of the house.”

  The hall dated back to the Normans, and like most older estates, it had been built upon, generation after generation, and thus had four wings dating from different eras. The original hall was no longer safe and had been blocked off years ago, lest the curious sons of the family should attempt to go exploring. The family stayed in the most recently constructed east wing, which offered more modern amenities than the others, though when there were a number of guests staying at the hall, they would sometimes use them to house overflow visitors.

  “I agree,” Archer said, grateful that his brother had changed his tone. It would have been possible to remain here while they were at daggers drawn, but it would not have been pleasant. For either him or Perdita. Not to mention his parents.

  “There now,” the duke said with a smile, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  “I only needed to hear the details of it, Father,” Rhys said with a shrug. “If the situation had been what I thought, I should have continued to fight you. No matter how unpleasant things might have become.”

  “I know, son,” the duke said. “I should have expected nothing less.”