The Duke of Distraction

by Darcy Burke

  “They’re in the barn.” Mrs. Jenney led them to a shelter several yards from the cottage. The building had three full sides, with a half-wall along the fourth. They passed through an open doorway to a penned area filled with straw. And a litter of terrier puppies nursing on their mother.

  The sides of the pen were only a foot high—easy enough for the mama to scale and impossible for her pups. One of them stood and stretched, then waddled over to the edge where they were standing.

  Sarah immediately dropped down. “How old are they?”

  “About five weeks now, miss,” Mrs. Jenney answered.

  “They will soon be able to leave the pen,” Felix observed.

  “Undoubtedly,” Mrs. Jenney said.

  Sarah pulled off one of her gloves and reached over into the pen to stroke the puppy’s head. This one was the lightest of the bunch, a pale cream. “They are absolutely adorable.”

  “Go on and pick her up, then,” Mrs. Jenney suggested, as if Sarah needed much urging.

  Removing her other glove, Sarah handed them to Dovey. Then she scooped the puppy into her arms and stood, cuddling the animal to her chest.

  Felix could see she was already in love. “What would you name her?”

  Sarah nuzzled the dog’s head. “Blossom. Because she’s beautiful, and she smells so very sweet.”

  “Well then, it sounds as if she’s yours already,” Felix said.

  “I can’t take a dog.” She squatted down and put the dog back into the pen. Another trotted toward her, this one darker with a reddish hue. The animal thrust its head into Sarah’s hand, and she picked it up next.

  “You’re right,” Felix said. “Clearly you must take two.”

  She put the dog back in the pen and stood, shaking her head at him. “What if my husband doesn’t like dogs?”

  “Then he shouldn’t be your husband.”

  Mrs. Jenney looked confused, and Felix said, “He’s hypothetical at this point—the husband.”

  She nodded. “They’ll be fully weaned in a few weeks. You could take one—or two—then, if you like. Two of them are spoken for. The darkest one there.” She pointed to one that was nearly red and to a second one that was lighter and by far the largest of the litter. “And that big one. My son calls him Hero.”

  “What a wonderful name,” Sarah said. Her gaze was so wistful, so full of yearning, that Felix could hardly stand it.

  “Sarah, you’re taking a dog,” he said. “I insist. Make your choice. Blossom or the other one.”

  “She’s a girl too. My son’s taken to calling her Poppy. She’s the friendliest of the bunch.”

  Sarah frowned. “I would hate to take your son’s dog.”

  “Oh, she isn’t his. Their mother is his pup, and he wouldn’t trade her for anything. And we’ll keep whatever pup is left when the other five have been taken.”

  “It’s settled, then,” Felix said. “We’ll pick up Blossom and Poppy in two weeks. Will that be sufficient time for them to wean?”

  “Oh yes, sir. That would be just fine.” Mrs. Jenney smiled widely, revealing a gap between her front teeth. “I’m so pleased they’ll have such a loving home. It’s obvious you love dogs,” she said to Sarah.

  “I do.” Sarah positively beamed, and Felix was aware of a tightening in his chest. Blast it all.

  “Would you like to play with them a bit?” Mrs. Jenney asked.

  “I would, thank you.”

  Mrs. Jenney stepped away from the pen. “I’ve lemonade in the house if anyone would care for some.”

  “Would you mind if I went inside, Sarah?” Dovey asked.

  “Not at all.” Sarah didn’t look up from the puppies. She bent down and scooped Blossom up, then moved to sit on a pile of hay nearby.

  When Mrs. Jenney and Dovey had left, Felix picked up Poppy and joined Sarah. The puppies allowed a bit of coddling before they demanded to be put down so they could explore.

  “This was lovely of you,” Sarah said softly. “Thank you.”

  “I know how much you adore dogs.”

  “I do. My parents wouldn’t let me have one in London.”

  He hadn’t realized that was the case. “I didn’t mean to provoke any unpleasantness.”

  “No, it’s fine.” Her gaze followed the puppies as they wrestled with one another.

  He thought about what might be going through her head. She wanted to honor her parents by getting married, and yet here she was with a pair of puppies, something they’d denied her. If she could accept the dogs, perhaps she’d come back around to pursuing her hat making. He hoped that would be the case. She deserved happiness—a happiness of her own making and not anyone else’s.

  Such as you have?

  He swatted the voice to the back of his mind.

  She looked over at him. “Thank you. I shouldn’t take them, but I will.”

  “Good.”

  She smiled, and while he’d provoked several the last few days, this was the truest, most brilliant one yet. Her blue eyes sparkled, and her skin glowed. “This is the happiest I’ve felt in a long time.”

  “I can tell.”

  “What you do…creating diversions and amusements. It’s more than that. You bring people genuine joy.”

  “I try.”

  “Is that what makes you happy?”

  “Yes.” He said it without thinking. Because avoiding thinking too deeply was part of what made him happy. No, not happy. It was something else.

  She cocked her head. “Have you ever tried to make your aunt and uncle happy?”

  The change in topic—sort of—made him laugh. “I’m not sure. I have arranged for them to avoid each other, so in that sense, yes, I suppose I have. They rarely spend any time together. She’s always in Bath or York, and Uncle Martin is always here.”

  “How sad.”

  Felix shrugged. “I don’t think they’re sad. They’re making the most of a bad situation.”

  “Their marriage is a ‘bad situation.’”

  “Now you see why I have no interest and why I caution you to be certain it’s what you want.”

  “Is that the truth?” she asked. “Living with your aunt and uncle after your father died, that’s why you refuse to marry?”

  Felix’s insides twisted. This was dangerous territory—the places in his heart and soul he didn’t touch. He searched, desperately, for humor where there was little, or none, to be found. “I hope you aren’t going to pity me. There’s no need for that.”

  “No, I was merely trying to learn something new about you.” One of the puppies nudged her skirt, and Sarah scooped her up, settling the animal in her lap. Then she reached down and picked up the second and deposited her beside her sister. They curled together so that it was hard to see where one ended and the other began.

  “I’m beginning to realize there is a great deal I don’t know about you.”

  His discomfort with the conversation grew. “You know the same as Anthony. Or anyone else.”

  “I do? I would have thought Anthony would know you better. But if we all see the same Felix…” Her voice trailed off, and he didn’t like the direction her thoughts were taking.

  “I’m not a terribly exciting person,” he said. “I am precisely the man you see—entertainment maker, laugh provoker, and puppy obtainer.”

  “Yes, but I think you’re so much more.” She gave him an enigmatic look and stood, cradling the puppies in her arms.

  He watched her put them back in the pen with their mother and siblings, then she turned to him, wiping her hands against her skirt. “I should get back to check on Anthony.”

  “I asked Cook to make him a headache tonic. He’ll be fit as a fiddle, I’m sure.”

  “You take care of everyone,” she said softly. “Who takes care of you?”

  “No one.” He’d taken care of himself his entire life, and he expected that to never change.

  Anthony found Sarah in the library before dinner that night. “Are those your horrid novel
s from London?”

  She sat at a table with a trio of books stacked before her and turned to look at her brother as he came toward her. “Yes. Felix told you he ordered them for me?”

  “I wish I’d thought of it,” Anthony said with a hint of regret. “I haven’t been a very good brother of late.”

  “I haven’t been that great a sister either, but I think we’ve done what we must.” She gestured for him to sit with her. “Is it better, being here instead of in town?”

  “I think so. I enjoyed being out yesterday. And I went for a long walk today.”

  “You seem to be feeling all right.” She studied his features, and he gave her a small smile.

  “Please don’t worry about me. I couldn’t bear it.” He looked away from her. “This has been a shock.”

  “Yes, it has.” That was the very best way to describe it. One minute, they’d been enjoying themselves at Darent Hall, and the next, they’d been plunged into confusion and grief.

  Anthony rested his elbow on the table. “I wanted to ask if you would mind if Felix and I missed dinner tonight.”

  “Oh?”

  “Felix suggested we spend the evening in town.”

  “And you want to?” She reached forward with a smile and touched his arm. “That’s wonderful. Of course I don’t mind.”

  His shoulders dipped in relief. “Thank you.”

  “I’ve plenty to keep me busy.” She patted the stack of books. “And soon I will have even more to occupy my time. Felix took me to meet terrier puppies today.”

  “Oh no, how many are you taking?” He let out a low laugh.

  “Two. At his insistence.” She snagged the inside of her lip with her teeth. “But it feels a bit…wrong.”

  “Why?”

  “Mother and Father would never let me have them. Not in the house and definitely not in London.”

  He looked away again, nodding. “I understand.” He found her gaze again. “And I think they would understand too. We must do what we can. If puppies will make you happy, you should have puppies.”

  “What about you?” she asked. “What will make you happy?”

  He shrugged, letting out a deep exhalation. “Right now, spending the evening with my friend and pretending as if nothing has changed.”

  “Can you really do that?” Sarah wasn’t sure she could.

  “I’m going to try. Felix says it will help.”

  She wasn’t surprised by this—he’d spent the day trying to distract her from melancholy. “Felix is a master at diversion.”

  “Of course he is. I can think of no one better to help us through this time.”

  “Should we—” She hated to ask the question, but she’d begun to start thinking about what to do next, and she liked having plans or at least ideas and strategies. When it looked like she might not marry, she’d concocted an alternate scheme. It was both comforting and inspiring. “When are we going to Oaklands?”

  Anthony stood and stalked across the room, stopping in front of a bookshelf and running his fingertip along the spines. “I don’t know. I’m not ready yet.”

  The pain in his voice cut right through her. She rose and went to stand beside him. “It doesn’t have to be soon.”

  He nodded.

  “I’m just trying to…think ahead. How soon do you think I can wed?”

  He whipped his head about to stare at her. “Wed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have a suitor?”

  “No, but I think I could have one.” She thought of Fielding, whom she planned to write to after dinner.

  “Who?” he asked.

  “Mr. Fielding.”

  Anthony blinked. “I’m afraid I don’t remember him.”

  “He was at Darent Hall. Stocky fellow, pale brown hair, most amiable.”

  Anthony seemed to think for a moment, then gave his head a slow, single shake. “Still can’t place him, sorry.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does matter. I shall have to ensure any suitor is up to snuff. That is my responsibility now.”

  Irritation ground up her spine. She didn’t want to have to seek his permission. “I hope you don’t expect to choose a husband for me.”

  “Not at all. But I should at least ensure he’s worthy.”

  Sarah relaxed. This was all so new to them. “He’s up for a government appointment in India. Is that acceptable to you?”

  “No title?” he asked. She shook her head. “Mother and Father really wanted you to have a title.”

  “Yes, but Mother had begun to say it didn’t matter so long as I married.”

  Anthony winced slightly and returned his attention to the books for a moment. Without looking at her, he said, “India? That’s acceptable to you?”

  “I must marry, Anthony,” she said softly. “It would have made Mother so happy.”

  He turned and pulled her into his arms. She hugged him around the middle and laid her head on his chest.

  “I think you could marry by year’s end. Presumably this Fielding fellow would wait.”

  “He has family matters to attend here. He doesn’t have plans to return to India this year.”

  “I would miss you dreadfully.”

  “I would miss you too.” Emotion clogged her throat, but she didn’t want to cry all over his cravat.

  “Good evening, friends!”

  Sarah and Anthony separated as Felix strode into the room.

  Felix stopped before them, looking from Sarah to Anthony and back again. “What familial bonding have I interrupted?”

  “Sarah and I were just discussing her marriage,” Anthony said.

  “Ah, yes, she mentioned something about getting married earlier today.” Felix gave her a benign look that told her nothing as to how he felt about the topic. But she knew from their conversation in Ware that afternoon that he had an opinion about whom she should wed—someone she loved, probably.

  Anthony leaned against the bookshelf. “She’s considering some gentleman from the party at Darent Hall. Fielding. But the bloke’s going to India, and I’d rather not send my sister halfway around the world.”

  Sarah gave him a pointed look. “You don’t get to decide.” He lifted his arms in a gesture of surrender.

  “There are other options. What of Sherington or Blakesley or a few of the other guests at Darent Hall? Baron Hardwick is purported to be looking for a bride.”

  “Hardwick has too many creditors, in my opinion,” Anthony said. “And Blakesley isn’t ready to settle down. Sherington could work, however.”

  Sarah cleared her throat. “I am still here.”

  Both men blinked at her. “Of course you are.”

  “Then perhaps you might ask me what I think of those men.” She smiled prettily—perhaps too prettily, but she didn’t appreciate their cavalier attitude.

  “My apologies,” Felix said, offering a slight bow. “I merely want to help facilitate your search. I am happy to continue my services when you are ready.”

  His services. Helping her find a husband. While she’d eagerly accepted his offer before, that was…before. Now the thought of him finding her a suitor felt a bit wrong.

  So far, she was doing a rather poor job of pretending they’d never kissed. It seemed he was having no trouble, however. He was more than ready to marry her off.

  “I can’t imagine reentering the social world any time soon. Perhaps in the fall. In the meantime, I shall consider my options.” She was eager to abandon the topic.

  “Sarah, I will support whatever you decide to do,” Anthony said earnestly.

  “Thank you.” She smoothed her hand over her skirt. “And now I understand you are both off to Ware, which leaves me to read my horrid novels.”

  “Would you like to take dinner in here?” Felix asked. “Or somewhere else? I can let the staff know.”

  “I’ll take care of that, thank you,” she said. “What do you plan to do in Ware?”

  “We’ll have dinner
at one of the coaching inns,” Felix said. “The Golden Bear has a French chef, if you can imagine.”

  “How wonderful. I shall have to go sometime.” Indeed, she wondered why they hadn’t invited her to come. But then they exchanged a glance, and she knew. Dinner was just the start of their evening. She could well imagine what they’d be doing next.

  Her insides twisted, and she had trouble making eye contact with Felix. So she didn’t. Instead, she went to the table with her books and picked up the stack. “Have a nice evening. Don’t drink too much.” She looked at Anthony but not Felix.

  “We’ll be on our best behavior,” Anthony said.

  Nodding, she turned and left, all the while silently repeating: pretend it never happened, pretend it never happened, pretend it never happened.

  Better still: pretend he doesn’t exist.

  The dining room hardly resembled the dining room, what with the table covered in various items, but Felix could think of no better use for the space. He surveyed the collection of bizarre items and waited for his guest to arrive.

  A moment later, Sarah entered. “Dovey told me I was needed in the dining room.” She moved toward the table with a look of confusion. “Felix, what is all this?”

  “We’re making hats.”

  She blinked at him. “With books and baskets and moss and…is that a teacup?”

  He clasped his hands behind his back and smiled at her. “It is.”

  “I told you I didn’t want to make hats.”

  “I’m making hats. But I need a little direction.”

  “Felix, you can’t make a hat out of a basket and a teacup.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “You are not very imaginative. What are hats but overdecorated baskets?”

  She stared at him, and he feared his plan was going to fail. He went to pick up a basket and then grabbed a handful of moss, which he’d tasked a footman with collecting. “If you aren’t going to help me, I shall do it on my own.” He moved to the other end of the table and sat down to affix the moss on the basket.

  He opened a jar of glue and picked up the brush that sat beside it. Dipping the brush into the adhesive, he used the implement to slather it on the basket. Then he stuck wads of the moss onto the wet glue.