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Authors: Sally MacKenzie

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“Ah.” Ellie forced a smile. “Yes.” She knew the main point of the damn party was to find Ned—and Jack, of course—a suitable wife. “I can see that.”

The duchess glanced down at Reggie who was now cleaning his paws. “Greycliffe is actually hoping Reggie pilfers things again. He thought it made the gathering much more interesting.”

Interesting was one way to describe the screaming and tears Lady Perford had treated them to upon finding her mangled pheasant.

Ellie took a sustaining sip of tea. She might as well know everything now; it would make it easier to appear composed in company. “And whom have you invited for Jack”—she swallowed—“and N-Ned?”

Damn, her voice cracked. Perhaps the duchess hadn’t noticed.

And perhaps Reggie would leap upon the tea table and sing an aria.

At least Ned’s mother didn’t comment beyond a raised eyebrow. “I’d originally had Miss Prudence Merriweather in mind for Jack,” she said, “however the girl eloped with Mr. Bamford three weeks ago. Quite a shock to everyone, but of course I must take it as a blessing. She clearly would not have done for Jack if she was in love with another man.”

Her Grace sent her a significant, if obscure, look. Ellie took another sip of tea.

“I had to scramble a bit,” Her Grace continued somewhat dryly, “but I found Miss Isabelle Wharton to take her place. I’ve never actually met the girl, you understand, but my friend Lady Altman says she is quite striking. I imagine Jack would appreciate a lovely bride.” She shrugged slightly. “And if the match comes to nothing, well, Jack is only your age. He has plenty of time.”

“Yes.” Twenty-six was young for a man; it was firmly on the shelf for a woman.

“And as for Ned”—Her Grace shot Ellie another indecipherable look—“I invited Lady Juliet Ramsbottom, the Duke of Extley’s youngest daughter, with him in mind.”

A vise clamped around Ellie’s heart. Stupid. A duke’s daughter was an excellent choice for a duke’s son. She nodded and took a larger swallow of tea. If only there was some brandy at hand to flavor it.

“Frankly, I hope to see you and Ned married this summer.”

Ellie choked—and made the unpleasant discovery that it was possible to snort tea out one’s nose.

“Oh, dear.” The duchess leapt up and slapped her on the back. “Are you all right?”

Ellie, gasping, fished her handkerchief out of her pocket and waved her hand, trying to get the duchess to stop pounding on her. She would be fine if she could just catch her breath.

Of course Ned’s mother hadn’t meant she hoped to see Ellie married
to
Ned, only that she hoped both their nuptials would happen this summer.

The duchess pounded harder.

“Please,” Ellie gasped, “don’t—”

Through watery eyes, she watched Reggie abandon his ablutions and head toward . . .

“Ah, ah, ah.”

“What are you trying to say, dear?” The duchess paused in her pummeling. If she happened to glance in the direction Ellie’s horrified eyes were staring, she’d see Reggie sniffing a pair of red silk drawers.

Ellie sprang to her feet. Panic miraculously cleared her throat. “I’m fine,” she croaked. “Wonderful. Fit as a fiddle.” She glanced over her shoulder. Now Reggie was batting at the drawers with one paw.

She shifted her position to block the duchess’s view.

“I shouldn’t tease you, I know,” Her Grace said. Her eyes dimmed and she sighed, shoulders drooping. She suddenly looked every one of her fifty years. “I’ve certainly learned harping on a subject doesn’t get results. If it did, my boys would all be happily married.”

“I’m sure they will be, Your Grace.” Ellie impulsively laid her hand on the duchess’s arm. She hated to see her so blue-deviled. “Just give them time.”

“Time.”
The duchess bit her lip as if she’d like to say more on that head. She let out a short, sharp breath and shrugged, smiling a little. “It’s only . . . well, I’m so happy with the duke. Is it wrong to want that happiness for my sons?”

“Of course not, Your Grace, but your situation
is
rather extraordinary.” The duke and duchess had fallen in love at first sight when they were both very young. Even more unusual, they’d been happily married for over thirty years and, by all accounts, completely faithful to each other. There was probably not another couple like them in all the English nobility.

Ellie glanced at Reggie again. Damn it. Now the drawers were over his head. If he got caught in them . . .

“I know,” Her Grace said. “When I look around the
ton
, I see so many unpleasant unions.” She shook her head. “Well, just consider Ash and Jess. They’ve been separated for eight years now.”

Ellie wrenched her gaze away from Reggie’s activities. “I’m certain they will reconcile eventually.”

“But when?” The duchess’s voice was tight with frustration. “Ash will be the duke; the duchy needs an heir, and neither he nor Jess is getting any younger.” She frowned. “And I want a grandchild or two before I’m completely in my dotage.”

Damnation. Reggie was now coming their way, the silk drawers in his mouth. Ellie took the duchess’s arm and started to walk toward the door with her.

“Ash—and Ned and Jack—can manage their own lives, Your Grace. You must know you’ve raised them well.”

The duchess sighed. “And there’s nothing I can do about it anyway, is there?” She paused and glanced around. “Where has Reggie got to?”

“Likely he finished his cream and left,” Ellie said. The blasted cat had just passed behind the duchess’s skirts and out the door. Where the hell was he going? Certainly not . . . last year he had . . . but he wouldn’t this year, would he? “Has Ned”—Ellie caught herself—“and Jack arrived yet?”

“Oh, no. I don’t expect them for a while.”

Ellie almost collapsed with relief. If Reggie was taking her undergarment to Ned’s room, she’d have time to get it back before anyone—especially Ned—found it. “I hope they reach the castle before the storm. Mrs. Dalton was just saying her rheumatism is acting up.”

“Oh, dear. Mrs. Dalton’s rheumatism never lies.” The duchess stopped on the threshold and smiled, her good spirits returning. “Just think! You young people can go on sleigh rides.”

“I’m hardly young.” At the moment she just wanted to chase down one misbehaving cat.

“Oh, don’t be such a wet rag; you’ll freeze stiff in this weather.” The duchess laughed. “You can make snow angels, and I’m sure the men will get into a snowball battle.”

“Everyone will be cold and wet.” Ellie did not want to play in the snow. Such activities were for children.

“And there are ever so many games and things we can do inside.” Her Grace clapped her hands. “You know, I have the greatest hope this will be a wonderful party.”

“Er, yes.” Just wonderful, though perhaps snow would be better than rain or general February dreariness.

The duchess patted her arm. “And I have great hopes for you as well, dear.” She stepped into the corridor. “I’ll expect you downstairs in the blue drawing room before dinner. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t.”

Ellie watched the duchess walk down the passage—and the moment she turned the corner, she bolted for Ned’s room.

ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

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If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

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ISBN: 978-1-4201-2322-7

ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-3202-1
ISBN-10: 1-4201-3202-4
First Electronic Edition: March 2013

BOOK: Duchess 02 - Surprising Lord Jack

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