Page 14 of The Duke
It simply wasn’t possible for her to rely on anyone.
“I want to be rid of her, because the sudden acquisition of a ward is a nuisance and a bore, and I wish to return as soon as possible to my own unencumbered life.” Supposing she could get Celine an offer in two weeks, and allowing three for the banns to beread and contracts to be drawn up and signed, the whole blasted affair might be over in a mere five weeks. “She is the daughter of an old friend. He lived modestly in the countryside with very little company, so she lacks any town polish. What do you think?”
Lacks town polishwas severely understating the matter. But expensive dress would go some way to ameliorating Celine’s deficiencies, and Kate’s name would do the rest.
Richard didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t attempt any further probing questions. The puzzle of finding the perfect suitor for her ward engaged him, as she’d known it would. He became lost in thought.
But when at last he gave the answer, it was with an apologetic wince. “Your best bet is Lord Burnley.”
“Lord Burnley? I don’t know him.”
“He’s the eldest son of Lord Pecke, which means he’ll inherit—”
“No!” she said, aghast. “My God, have you gone mad? Give me another name.”
“Kate, he’s far and away the most suitable candidate, he—”
“I will not be forced to endure Lord Pecke’s inane, pious homilies for even one minute, never mind two weeks’ courting. The man can’t be shut up!”
Richard groaned and rubbed his face with his hand. “I’m not saying it won’t be a trial, but if you want a quick, advantageous marriage, Lord Burnley is the one. He wishes to marry, and his parents support him in the endeavour. He has had no success yet, however. You aren’t the only one who doesn’t relish a connection with his father.”
The Earl of Pecke was a ridiculous, bothersome old curmudgeon who haunted the halls of the House of Lords, looking for unsuspecting victims. He had a do-gooder mania about poverty that was completely divorced from a realistic sense of how the issue might be tackled, and would talk anyone’s ear off who came too close. He was avoided like the plague.
If she were to associate herself with him, it was even possible her own reputation and power in Lords would suffer some cooling in the short term.
But then, nothing about blackmail was easy. Lord Pecke was only one trial among many. And if Richard said his son was the quickest way to marry Celine off…
“I hope you’re very sure about this,” she said grimly.
“I wouldn’t have dared suggest him if I weren’t. Look, Lord Pecke is in committee all day. If you call on Lady Pecke this morning, you’re guaranteed not to have to see him.”
Good God,a morning call. She couldn’t believe she had to do this. Bloody Celine Genet, coming all the way across the sea just to poke a stick into the well-oiled wheel of the Duke of Howard’s life. She let out a long breath, enforcing patience. “Very well.” She stood. “Wish me luck.”
She turned to leave, but he called her back softly.
“I wanted you to hear it from me,” he said, meeting her eyes with some effort. “I’ve arranged rooms for Mr. Buttle and his family, and paid the first quarter’s rent for them. I couldn’t stand by and let them fall into poverty. I couldn’t do it, Kate.”
She felt a hot bloom of anger. He was her family! He should stand with her; he should understand that she acted to benefit them all, not just herself! And she felt love. She knew enough about his finances to guess he was probably taking bread from his own table to make sure the Buttles didn’t go without.
“Careful,” she said, “you’re starting to sound like Lord Pecke.”
His gasp of outrage followed her from the room.
THESUN WAShigher in its springtime arc when she returned home. She rode down the cobbled lane at the side of the house and entered at the mews door. Inside, it was dark and fragrant, full of the soft jangle of tack.
Her secretary, Shaw, had been waiting for her. He was a middle-aged gentleman with too-long hair, greying at the temples. He was dressed… in a fashion, and wore his baleful morning eyes. “You’re letting the French womanstay?” he said before she’d evendismounted. “I heard she was in a right state when she arrived, looking like a—”
“Yes?” she said icily, daring him to continue. She handed her horse off to the groom and took her time removing her gloves. There were certain people she did not relish lying to.A French orphan, recently come into my care.It sounded treacly. Utterly fanciful.
He stared at her, as though wondering if she were quite in her right mind. “If it gets out—excuse me,whenit gets out that your French ‘ward’ isn’t quite the respectable young miss you would have everyone believe, the ton is going to be embarrassed and angry, and that’s a hell of a combination. Tell me you plan to send her on her way!”
Insolent! Messy, late, obnoxious, blunt, stubborn. Shaw’s flaws were too many to list, and none of them were relevant, because he was also right. He almost always was.
As she wasn’t at liberty to make the sensible response, however, she said merely, “Is Miss Genet awake?”
“No. The household’s in an anticipatory frenzy.”
She set off over the lawn towards the house, not looking to see if he followed. She pushed open the door and passed through the bright salle where she housed her sporting equipment.
