“Our hostess approaches,” Elizabeth said, rising to accept a footman’s hand. “I’ll explain, and you’ll produce a ladylike swoon.”
Technically, Lady Glenys was their host’s unmarried sister, though thank a benevolent providence, Elizabeth didn’t have to explain Charlotte’s bilious stomach to the duke himself. In her experience, dukes did not deal well with life’s most unglamorous realities.
A delicate bunch, dukes. Marquesses and earls weren’t much sturdier.
“Miss Windham,” Lady Glenys said, bobbing a curtsy. “I’ve been anticipating the pleasure of your company in particular. Are Lady Pembroke and Miss Charlotte with you?”
Lady Glenys’s graciousness might have convinced a younger woman, but Elizabeth had been to enough house parties to know what a nerve-wracking undertaking they could be for the lady in charge. Her ladyship had probably spent the day welcoming all and sundry on the steps, while a thousand tasks went awry in the house.
“Charlotte is somewhat the worse for the journey,” Elizabeth said. “Her digestion has grown tentative over these last few miles.”
Charlotte peeked her head out of the coach. A decapitated sparrow would have been more attractive than the pale, bedraggled creature blinking in the late afternoon sunshine.
“My heavenly stars,” Lady Glenys said. “You poor dear. I am so sorry you’re feeling poorly, and will have you up to your rooms in no time.”
Charlotte tottered from the coach, a footman assisting on one side, Elizabeth on the other.
“I’d curtsy,” Charlotte said, “but I’ve no desire to end up face down on your cobbles.”
“Hush, dear,” Elizabeth said as Lady Glenys took a step back. “We’ll simply follow her ladyship into the house and find you a nice, soft, private place to settle yourself.”
The footmen stepped away, hands behind their backs. Lady Glenys looked torn between distress and sympathy, and Charlotte hung heavily on Elizabeth’s arm.
“Can you walk to the house?” Elizabeth asked.
Charlotte glanced up at the crenelated façade, her expression grim. “If I must.”
Why would nobody offer aid? Grooms held teams for two coaches and a landau behind the Windham coach, and Lady Glenys wrung her hands.
“Come along,” Elizabeth said, tucking an arm around Charlotte’s waist. “It’s not far, and you’re a Windham.”
Bootsteps crunched to Elizabeth’s left, and then Charlotte’s weight was plucked away.
“Allow me to aid the lady,” said a tall gentleman in riding attire. “I apologize for presuming, but I’m guessing a bad batch of Merlin Jones’s summer ale is to blame. Lady Glenys, which bedroom?”
He smelled of horses and hayfields, his boots were dusty, and his dark hair was less than tidy. Charlotte’s rescuer had the steady gaze of a man used to solving problems with common sense and hard work. He held her as if striding about with a full-grown woman in his arms was part of his daily routine.
Charlotte would be utterly safe with this man.
Every woman was safe around this man. That conviction landed in Elizabeth’s mind with the same certainty she felt when she picked up a new book and grasped in the very first lines that great treasure lay on the subsequent pages.
Clearly travel had taken a toll on her wits.
“Take her to the Dovecote,” Lady Glenys said. “Both Miss Windham and Miss Charlotte are in the Dovecote.”
Charlotte looked to be enjoying her first convincing ladylike swoon.
“Miss Windham,” the man said. “If you’ll come along?”
He had dark auburn hair, green eyes, and his expression held no flirtation, no suggestion of humor at Charlotte’s expense. Sober and steady when sober and steady were desperately needed.
“My thanks,” Elizabeth said, falling in step beside him. “Who is this Merlin Jones?” And who are you?
“He’s the innkeeper at the nearest coaching inn, and known to occasionally mix up a bad batch of ale. Because he serves the suspect brew only to those traveling on, he’s not held accountable for his mistakes.”
Charlotte’s rescuer spoke with the lilting diction of the educated Welshman, and his fitness was such that even carrying Charlotte up a grand curved staircase, his strength was not taxed. Something about the angle of his jaw suggested Mr. Jones would be held accountable this time.
“The Dovecote is one of the tower suites,” he said. “The views are lovely, and you’re close to both the family wing and the guest wing. If the apartment is not to your liking, I’m sure Lady Glenys can see to other arrangements.”
He was local, then, a neighbor, cousin, or close friend of the family. Was he a guest at the house party? For all his athleticism, he might also be a well-read man, which was Elizabeth’s favorite sort of fellow.
“I’m sure the accommodations will be fine. Charlotte, how are you feeling?”
“A little better,” she said, lashes fluttering. “What a magnificent castle.”
“It can be cold as the devil’s root cellar in winter,” the gentleman said. “This is your suite.”
He carried Charlotte straight into a circular chamber graced with three windows. The walls were easily two feet thick, the plaster a mellow cream. A single red rose sat in a crystal vase on the sideboard.
The gentleman set Charlotte on a tufted sofa and regarded her, his hands on his hips. In his dusty boots and with a streak of dirt on one sleeve, he might have been a steward assessing a heifer gone off her feed.
“Fresh air, I think,” he said, wrestling two of the windows open. The latch screeched in protest, but the breeze was heavenly. He then knelt before the sideboard. “At the risk of being indelicate, you might also need this.”
He rose, holding a porcelain basin painted with daffodils.
“At the risk of being pathetic,” Elizabeth replied, taking the basin, “we thank you. You are being very kind, sir.”
Though not exactly proper. Why didn’t the fellow introduce himself?
The gentleman bowed. “I’ll leave you, then, ladies. A footman is on duty at all times at the top of the steps and will alert the kitchen should you need anything. Welcome to Haverford.”
Elizabeth dipped a curtsy, and then took the place beside Charlotte when the gentleman had quietly closed the door on his way out. He was a handsome specimen, in a mature, un-fancy way.
A bit short on charm, though. “Shall you live, Charl?”
“I’ve been carried to my boudoir in the arms of a duke,” Charlotte said, flopping against the back of the sofa. “I’m not sure I can bear the strain such an honor has put on my maidenly nerves.”
“Your color has improved, but do you mean to tell me that was His Grace of Haverford?”
About the Author
Grace Burrowes grew up in central Pennsylvania and is the sixth out of seven children. She discovered romance novels when in junior high (back when there was such a thing), and has been reading them voraciously ever since. Grace has a bachelor’s degree in political science, a bachelor of music in music history (both from Pennsylvania State University); a master’s degree in conflict transformation from Eastern Mennonite University; and a juris doctor from the National Law Center at the George Washington University.
Grace writes Georgian, Regency, Scottish Victorian, and contemporary romances in both novella and novel lengths. She’s a member of Romance Writers of America, and enjoys giving workshops and speaking at writers’ conferences. She also loves to hear from her readers, and can be reached through her website, graceburrowes.com.
You can learn more at:
GraceBurrowes.com
Twitter: @GraceBurrowes
Fcebook.com/GraceBurrowes
Also in the Windham Brides Series by Grace Burrowes
The Trouble with Dukes
HIGH PRAISE FOR
THE TROUBLE WITH DUKES
“The hero of The Trouble with Dukes reminds me of Mary Balogh’s charming men, and the heroine brings to mind Sarah MacLean’s
intelligent, fiery women…This is a wonderfully funny, moving romance, not to be missed!”
―Eloisa James, New York Times bestselling author
“Sexy heroes, strong heroines, intelligent plots, enchanting love stories…Grace Burrowes’s romances have them all.”
―Mary Balogh, New York Times bestselling author
“The Trouble with Dukes has everything Grace Burrowes’s many fans have come to adore: a swoonworthy hero, a strong heroine, humor, and passion. Her characters not only know their own hearts, but share them with fearless joy. Grace Burrowes is a romance treasure.”
―Tessa Dare, New York Times bestselling author
“Grace Burrowes writes from the heart―with warmth, humor, and a generous dash of sensuality, her stories are unputdownable! If you’re not reading Grace Burrowes you’re missing the very best in today’s Regency Romance!”
―Elizabeth Hoyt, New York Times bestselling author
“The Trouble with Dukes is captivating! It has everything I love in a book―a sexy Scotsman, a charming heroine, witty banter, plenty of humor, and lots of heart.”
―Jennifer Ashley, New York Times bestselling author
MORE RAVES FOR
THE TROUBLE WITH DUKES
“Exquisite writing, outstanding characters, a gorgeous romance, and a nailbiter of an ending. The Trouble with Dukes is the definition of a perfect historical romance!”
―Fresh Fiction
“Gorgeously written and thoroughly delightful, this is a wonderful start to a new series.”
—Library Journal, Starred Review
“Intrigue and suspense keep the pages turning, as does the romance…Readers who enjoy Tessa Dare will embrace the realistic problems and humor Burrowes presents throughout this affecting and clever tale.”
―Booklist
“Burrowes has a knack for giving fresh twists to genre tropes and developing in unexpected and delightful directions.”
―Publishers Weekly
Fall in Love with Forever Romance
TOO SCOT TO HANDLE
By Grace Burrowes
From award-winning author Grace Burrowes comes the next installment in the New York Times bestselling Windham Brides series! As a newly titled gentleman, Colin MacHugh has no wish to entertain all the ladies suddenly clamoring for his attention. But when the intriguing Miss Anwen Windham asks for his help to save a London orphanage, he has no idea how much she’ll change his life forever.
SUMMER ON FIREFLY LAKE
By Jenn Gilroy
In the tradition of New York Times bestselling authors Susan Wiggs and RaeAnne Thayne comes an emotional new love story from Jen Gilroy. Single mom Mia Gibbs and divorcé Nick McGuire are content to live their lives alone—until they begin to fall for each other. Can the two find the courage to take a second chance on lasting love?
Can’t Stop Lovin’ You
By Lynnette Austin
Maggie Sullivan can’t wait to get out of Texas. Luckily, she just got the break she needed to make her big-city dreams a reality. But then Brawley Odell swaggers back into Maverick Junction…Fed up with city life, Brawley jumps at the chance to return home—and get back to the smart, sassy woman he’s never been able forget. But how will he convince Maggie that their one true home is with each other?
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Too Scot to Handle Page 31
