Edward might have dropped his quill if he had not just set it aside. He had wished for another few hours in bed, yet his son, who had always been more slumber-eyed than the Duke, was suddenly running about in the early hours of the morning. “He’s taken it upon himself, has he? Not even fobbed off the task on a footman?”
“That is my understanding, sir. His lordship rose early this morning and left to see to the arrangements.”
“That is absolutely unheard of!” Edward’s back hit the chair with a resounding thud. He had never known his son to take matters into his own hands with such gusto. “I can quite honestly say he has caught me completely unawares, Abernathy.”
“Has he, Your Grace?” Abernathy sounded as if he understood. “One’s offspring is apt to do that to a parent on occasion.”
Edward moved from behind his desk and paced to the hearth. He placed his right fist on his side and rubbed his forehead in thought.
“I believe my son has finally matured and I think he could use a challenge.” What could he do to prepare his heir for the trials that he would someday inherit when the dukedom fell to him? “I’d like you to look into an acquisition, a small estate, something that needs some improvements, for the Earl of Brent.”
“Do you think he can undertake such a task during his matrimonial pursuits, Your Grace?”
“I don’t expect it will interfere with his current endeavors should he be successful in finding a bride. I imagine it might take some time to find the suitable property as well. We shall see.” Edward turned away from the hearth, faced Abernathy, and rubbed his hands together. “It is about time he gained some experience. However, I do not wish to overwhelm him. This new estate should be in some disrepair but not so great that it proves so large a challenge as to discourage him.”
“Noted, Your Grace.” The secretary wrote on a pad of paper. “Is there any location you had in mind, sir?”
“I think the farther from Faraday Hall, the better. I think you would agree it would not do Frederick any good to turn to his father for every small crisis that may befall him. We do not wish to make it too easy.” It was neither here nor there if his secretary agreed with him. Edward knew he was right.
“Understood, Your Grace. I shall make inquiries.”
Edward felt fairly satisfied with this undertaking. It would make a suitable wedding gift if all went well for his son. At the pace Frederick sought out young ladies, there might yet be a wedding by the end of this year. “Have we finished, then, Abernathy?”
“His lordship plans to return in time to accompany you for morning calls.”
Edward straightened, growing alert. “You mean for me to accompany him,” the Duke corrected. He strode across the room, taking his place behind his desk once more.
“If that is what you wish, sir.” Abernathy nodded, which Edward took as an apology for his mistake. “The final item.” The secretary handed a letter to the Duke and made a small bow before taking his leave.
The letter was from Edward’s eldest daughter, Augusta. Opening the missive, he skimmed the salutation and inquiry to his health, looking for the heart of her correspondence. The last line Augusta had written said it all: she was currently on her way to London.
Dressed in a simple, drab brown frock and her hat, Louise headed to the garden with her basket containing her gloves, trowel, shears, and a small knife. She pulled a linen scarf across the lower part of her face out of habit to prevent her from breathing in the pollen that made her sneeze and her eyes water. The strip of cloth did have the added benefit of providing some warmth on this chilly day, as did her broad-brimmed hat.
The few hours she’d waited for the overcast sky to clear and the temperature to rise had done nothing more than delay her presence in the garden. Placing her basket on a planter, balancing it on a corner for stability, Louise took up her gloves and slid them on while she assessed the foliage.
Her gaze followed the winding path, taking in the flower beds, pots, and long planters. Her pretties had always done well, even in their normal low-light condition. This year, however, the occupants of her garden seemed woefully sad with their dismal performance. The honeysuckle that climbed along the back wall lacked robust growth, and absent was its spray of tiny flowers that usually had a near-overwhelming sweet fragrance. The tulips, which she planted in a large rectangular pot to her right, barely managed to emerge from the soil with their small, pointed leaves. They were hardly tall enough to contemplate any sort of bloom.
Louise turned her attention toward the back corner where her hollyhocks usually grew. “Oh, dear,” she said in a miserable tone, recalling the beautiful pink tower of flowers that had occupied the space the year before. The flanking ferns grew low, covering the stalks, and had withered and blackened from the excess moisture. “How sad you all look. Water is the last thing you need. Betty’s done the best she could. I don’t know that you would have fared any better if Dora had helped.”
Strolling down the path toward the locked iron gate that led to the street, Louise turned her attention to her climbing roses that covered the south-facing back wall. Profuse new bright green growth sprouted even though no more than the smallest amount of light reached the bushes, yet she could not see a hit of buds. Delphiniums, usually tall and growing abundantly enough to hide the wall itself, were also missing.
What her plants needed, from what she could discern, was warmth and light. Exactly how Louise would remedy this, she wasn’t exactly sure. Gazing around, beyond the brim of her hat, she blinked up toward the sky. She decided the canopy of the trees needed to be thinned to allow the sunlight to reach her poor posies.
“Yes, that’s what we shall do,” she told the flora around her. “It will not be much longer, my pretties. Soon you shall have the nourishment of the golden light.”
There was much work to be done, and it was best Louise got started.
Lady Augusta strode into the foyer of Worth House. “Hello, Ralston.” She gazed around the room as she drew off her gloves, relishing the familiar sight of the curved banister of the staircase and the molded cornices leading to the tall ceiling.
“Welcome, Lady Augusta,” the butler intoned. “His Grace informed the staff to be expecting your arrival.”
“My father doesn’t happen to be about?” Augusta hadn’t really thought there would be a chance he’d be at home in the middle of the day.
“I’m sorry to say that His Grace and Lord Brent have gone driving in the Park. They left some time ago.”
“In the Park?” She narrowed her eyes at the butler, discerning whether he told her a Banbury tale. That would be quite unlike Ralston, but even more unlike her father to take a drive in Hyde Park. “At the fashionable hour?”
It was astonishing, actually. Although her father had accompanied her to various social engagements during her Season, as he probably had all his daughters, the Duke had never been seen in the middle of the day when he should be attending Parliament.
“I suppose they won’t return for some time, then?” Augusta contemplated what she might do while alone.
“Yes, my lady. If I may bring something to your attention”—the butler cleared his throat—“this, I believe, might be of interest to you.” He held a silver tray, the one used for visitors’ calling cards, where Augusta saw a familiar name.
Augusta’s eyes went wide when she noted the new address. “Char-Char is at home? This is above anything wonderful!”
“Yes, my lady.” There was a cheerful lilt in Ralston’s normal somber tone. He must have understood exactly how much it meant to Augusta to be able to see her sister.
“Where is my maid Beatrice?”
“I believe she is overseeing the handling of your trunks.”
Augusta had no patience for all that. “Tell the driver I wish to be off at once to see my sister.”
Within the hour, Augusta had arrived at Danbury Place and descended the lowered steps of her carriage. Soon she stepped up the walkway and into the foyer and
asked the butler to announce her arrival.
“Char!” Augusta disregarded every bit of propriety and extended her arms.
“Gusta!” Charlotte dashed from the corridor to receive, and bestow, a loving embrace. “It is so very good to see you!”
“My dearest Char-Char.” Augusta hugged her sister tightly. Dressed in light blue, looking lovely as ever, Charlotte’s perfectly shaped face with her perfect facial features in perfect proportion was framed with shimmering golden-blonde curls. Her resemblance to an angel did not stop there. Her disposition and character had never been faulted by anyone. She was an undisputed darling. “I had no notion we should see one another so soon.”
“Nor did I.” Charlotte held her sibling at arm’s length. “How wonderful it is to look upon you, and how well you appear.”
“Have you received Moo’s—”
Charlotte hushed Augusta and glanced around. “The foyer is no place to discuss our private affairs. Do you have time to”—Charlotte began in hesitation—“of course you do, that’s why you’ve come, of course. And you left the children in Suffolk?” She turned to address the butler. “Partridge, have a tea tray brought to the front parlor, if you please.”
“At once, my lady.” Partridge stepped away to see to the task.
“I’m quite certain Sarah and Michael will go along quite well with their father.”
“And that wonderful nanny. You should never let her go. Now, come this way, Gusta.” Charlotte clasped her sister’s hand and led the way into a large room. Decorated in an Oriental style, the parlor relied heavily on silks and velvets in red, black, and gold with ornate Asian motifs. “It seems so odd to make myself feel at home in a place I have never stepped foot in before yesterday.”
“Is it any different from Montrose? When you first arrived, that is.” Augusta followed her sister, stepping onto an enormous Oriental rug and rounding a deep red, golden-floral-embroidered brocade settee where they finally both sat.
“My dearest husband never left my side once we arrived at Montrose, and there we are so happy. But here…I am not lonely but must wait for his return. I haven’t occupied this residence for even a whole day, and it is very strange to me. I am so glad you have come.”
“Oh, do stop!” Augusta scolded her sister for her tiresome rant. How quickly they fell into their usual behavior when they came together. “We have more important matters to discuss.” She opened her reticule, pulled out a letter, and handed it to Charlotte. “I have Moo’s latest right here, and you must read for yourself what she says.”
Charlotte took the missive and appeared to be reading it. Augusta drew off her gloves and waited. She could, without trying, recall each word Muriel had written to them:
Dearest siblings,
I had not realized until I had completed my short stay with each of you after my wedding that all of us have abandoned our dear Papa. We have been constant companions of our dear Papa since the death of our mother. Now that all of us have married, we have left him alone.
I am of a mind that he is far from his dotage, and he is in need of companionship. I expect with a bit of combined effort on our parts we can successfully find him a new wife. Our Papa is not presently of a marriageable mind but I am certain together we could convince him to remarry.
I will remind you of our father’s adage of which we are all too familiar, “There is nothing we cannot do if we put our mind to it.” I urge each one of you to join me in this endeavor.
Please consider my suggestion and try to think of a plan. I will give this topic the utmost priority and contact you when an infallible strategy comes to mind.
Yr. sister,
Muriel
“I received the very same some months ago.” Charlotte confessed rather meekly. “That’s what brought me to Town.”
“Is it? And are you in agreement with Moo?” Augusta wondered exactly what her sister’s views were on the topic of their father marrying again.
“Actually, I have not given the notion a second thought,” Charlotte remarked in an offhanded manner as if it did not matter at all.
Her response was not to be believed!
“Char-Char, you never could tell falsehoods. It might be the only thing you cannot do well.” Augusta regretted her childish scold almost immediately.
“Oh, Gusta! How could you! Do not make me admit you are right and Moo has sent a second—”
“Or even a third missive?” Augusta gazed at her sister with much interest. “You must have some opinion regarding this matter. What are your thoughts about Papa remarrying?”
“Well…yes, I have a notion it might be a good idea, don’t you think?” Charlotte spoke quietly. “Only think of our poor papa, all alone. How will he ever manage to go on year after year without the benefit of our company? Without any companionship whatsoever?” Her voice grew stronger. “Yes, come to think of it, I am fully persuaded Moo has the right of it. Do you not think so?”
“I believe she has some valid points.” Augusta would not have traveled to Town if she had not agreed with her sisters.
“He makes the effort to visit in our various houses, which are spread far and wide across the country, and we, of course, will all return to Faraday Hall on special occasions, but he shall have to face every day on his own. Is that above all too sad?” As Charlotte approached the conclusion of her discourse, her eyes filled with tears. “I do not think he can manage that, and I cannot bear the thought of him in such a circumstance.”
“He’s doing the very thing now. He has been since Moo married last year and left for the Continent. Honestly, Char-Char, why do you upset yourself so? Crying does nothing to aid us. If we are to help him find a wife, do you not think we should make a combined effort?” Augusta noticed her sister’s tears ebb. Her previous expression of sorrow was soon replaced by one of willfulness.
“We are not to speak of it, Gusta—not even to acknowledge we’ve received any of Moo’s letters. That’s what she said, can you not recall?” Charlotte stood and strode from the settee. “And I believe it is an excellent idea that none of us knows what the other has planned. It is as Moo said, ‘You can behave with honest delight when Gusta hosts an evening of music and invites some acquaintances with the distinct purpose of exposing Papa to a few new ladies for whom he may develop a tendre. You may recall that our parent holds some distaste for any pretense of duplicity he may detect.’”
“That is nonsense!” Augusta remarked with disgust. “What are we supposed to do, prance around pretending she hasn’t written to us? It’s no secret that she’s thought up some other plan—a script for each of us to follow—in hopes of finding Papa a new wife.”
“That may be so, Gusta, but I, for one, wish to give dear Papa every benefit to discover his new duchess.” Charlotte crossed her arms, which made her appear as determined and stubborn as she sounded.
Augusta drew in a breath and eased back, forcing herself to relax before continuing, “Then I suppose it will not interest you to hear that he is, at this very moment, out for a drive in the Park.”
“Papa?” Charlotte’s arms dropped to her sides.
“With Freddie.”
“Do you mean to tell me Freddie has managed to—” Charlotte ran back to the settee, returning to her sister’s side; she leaned close, eager to hear more. “Who is he with? Papa, that is? Does this mean he already found a lady whom he fancies?”
Augusta stood, removing herself from her sister’s further prying. “I thought you believed it best that we did not know the actions of the other siblings?”
“I did—I do. Of course I—” Charlotte straightened on the settee, finding her composure. “I must confess that I am so very curious. How could I not be? And you are horrible not to tell me.”
“I cannot tell you, Char, because I do not know.” Augusta had to admit that she could not wait to learn the details. She would not allow Freddie to step foot out of Worth House until she knew exactly what had transpired before her arrival. There wa
s no doubt that he had received the very same correspondence she and Charlotte had, and with further instructions, perhaps ones more detailed than ones dispatched to the sisters. “I am sure we will learn all in due time. We must be patient. If we show any sort of anxiety when Papa exhibits interest in a lady he will find us out for certain.”
“I suppose you are right. We must remain calm and uninterested, but how can we?” Charlotte exhaled and drew in a slow breath. “Very well. But really, Gusta, how are we to maintain such a show of indifference?”
“Perhaps Moo is correct, the less we know of each other’s plans—and activities”—Augusta added, stressing the importance—“the better we are able to behave naturally.”
“You must admit, Gusta. When it comes to chicanery and misdirection, I really do think Moo knows best.”
Augusta had to agree.
CHAPTER FIVE
Edward led the way from the mews into the back entrance of Worth House. “It seemed to me you did not take as much pleasure in Miss Davies-Holmes’s company as she had in yours this afternoon.”
Ralston appeared just as the Duke entered, divesting him of his outer raiment.
“Nonsense,” Frederick replied, stepping in immediately behind his father. He dropped his gloves into his hat, which he’d handed over to the butler, then shrugged out of his coat. “I don’t know what you mean. I had a most enjoyable afternoon with Miss Davies-Holmes. She is quite refreshing compared to the normal overly style-conscious female who thinks only of feathers and frippery.”
A lack of interest in accessories could not be the reason for his son’s attraction to the young lady. Miss Davies-Holmes was as quiet as a church mouse and was known to have fortune, but Frederick need not marry one. She was far from a great beauty, and Edward’s earlier opinion had been generous; truth be told, the girl looked plain to the point of being almost unattractive. If he remembered correctly, beauty meant much more to a young buck in choosing a wife than it would to an older man. There must be some quality that Frederick knew Miss Davies-Holmes possessed. Might there possibly be an exceptional attribute Edward had failed to see?
The Duke Dilemma Page 5
