How I Met My Countess (23 page)

“You don’t look like a duke,” she said skeptically.

“Madame, I will have you know I am the Duke of Parkerton,” he said with an imperious air.

Lucy tipped her head and eyed the fellow. “With a shiner?”

The man drew a deep breath. “Courtesy of the Earl of Clifton. We had an encounter, shall we say, at White’s this afternoon.”

“
…
if I ever have the ill fortune to run into Parkerton, it will be an interview he won’t forget.”

What was it Clifton had said?

“Not if I get to him first.”

And so he had. Her mouth dropped open, and she raised her hand to cover it when she remembered she wasn’t supposed to gape at guests. And most certainly not dukes.

The duke politely ignored her gaffe. “He and my brother Jack suggested that I come in this guise so as not to draw attention to my visit, and so that you would be more amenable to my offer.”

“Offer?” she said faintly, as she was still struggling to believe that Clifton had given the duke a shiner. And in White’s, of all places.

“Yes, an offer. In light of your father’s esteemed ser vice to the Crown, and since it was my father’s wish that he be compensated, I am giving you the deed to the house in Hampstead.”

“You are giving me the house?”

“Yes. I regret that I did not know of the agreement between our fathers, or I would have extended the lease. Today has been quite enlightening,” he said, touching his eye. “I also called on Hollindrake before I arrived, and he has arranged for your dowry to be released, so you will have an income to live on. You are free to make your own life now.”

“My dowry? I’ve never had a dowry,” she said.

“You do now,” he said, smiling, then winced at the pain of it.

“Would you like a beefsteak for that eye?” she offered.

Parkerton looked up at her and smiled. “My lady, you are a regular bruiser, aren’t you?”

“So I’ve been told,” she admitted.

“Would you permit me to make a suggestion for your newfound freedom—without fear of discovering how much of a bruiser you truly are?”

Lucy laughed. “Of course, Your Grace.”

“Repay the earl for his ser vice to the Crown by granting him your heart—” He held up his hand to stave off her protest. “The man, I understand, made a grievous error of judgment—”

She snorted rudely at this.

“Yes, so it seems,” the duke agreed, “but I would guess that you love him.”

“And what makes you think that?” Lucy asked.

“Because you haven’t flattened me for daring to suggest such a notion.”

They both laughed.

“Go to him, Lady Standon. He wants the same things you do. His country life and a marriage of love. He is in the park near the Serpentine. Tell him all is forgiven and live the life you’ve always wanted.”

She rose and was about to leave in all haste, then she paused and glanced over her shoulder. “If I forgive the earl, do I still get to keep the house in Hampstead?”

For Lucy was still her father’s all-too-practical daughter.

Elinor arrived at the house, just as Lucy was leaving.

“There is too much to tell,” Lucy said in a rush, “but I am to have the house in Hampstead, a dowry and the earl!”

Elinor watched her go and wished Minerva hadn’t stopped to call on Lady Charles, so she could have seen the spark of happiness in Lucy’s eyes.

In this good humor, Elinor entered the house only to find a strange man coming out of the receiving room and, at the same time, Tia dashing down the stairs.

“Oh, Elinor, thank goodness you’re home,” she said in a rush. “Isidore is having her pups, and I fear she is having a time with it. I know not what to do!”

This stopped Elinor, for usually one of the stable hands handled these matters. “Neither do I. Oh, poor Isidore!”

And they both turned to the stranger in the hall. Elinor assumed it was the solicitor they’d asked Hollindrake to send, but the man hardly had a townish look to him and seemed to have a country air about him. “Sir, have you any experience with dogs?”

“A bit,” he said in a rather haughty manner.

Well, he needn’t be so high in the instep,
Elinor mused. After all, he wasn’t much above a steward. Nor should he stare at her so. For it gave her a warm shiver down her spine.

She stole another glance at him, and it surprised her that she found him quite handsome.

How unfortunate he wasn’t titled.

“Would you mind assisting us?” she asked. “This is Isidore’s first litter, and she’s one of the finest greyhounds I’ve ever owned.”

“I would be honored, my lady,” he said, bowing to her.

And as he rose, Elinor glanced at him again and realized that he was quite tall and well fashioned. In a common sort of way, yes, but she couldn’t help but feel a bit of blush rise on her cheeks as he looked at her.

“Do you do business for the duke often?” she asked as they made their way up to the closet where Isidore had hidden herself.

“Do I do what for the duke?” he stammered, looking every bit taken aback.

“Business?” she repeated. “You are a man of business, I assume.”

After a pause, he nodded slowly. “Why, yes. Yes, I am.”

“Excellent! Do you have any connections in Society?”

“A few,” he demurred, bowing his head.

Elinor nodded. “Would you mind looking into a matter for me?” she added. “Discreetly. I can pay you, of course.”

“I would be honored to be of ser vice to you, but I don’t know who I am helping,” he said as they knelt before Isidore and her growing litter of pups.

Tia stepped right in and made the necessary introduction.

“This is my sister, Elinor, Lady Standon, for the time being,” the girl said, grinning. “Until she marries her duke.”

Lucy hurried toward the park, not caring about the stares and comments that fluttered behind her like fallen leaves.

It was a bright, sunny day, and being February, the air was crisp. To her, it could have been the first of May and the flowers could have been blooming.

But when she got to the Serpentine, there was no one about, and not a sign of Clifton. Her heart sank. Had Parkerton led her afoul?

Not if he wants to live
, she mused, her hands fisting to her sides.

Just then, a bit of movement caught her eye, a figure slipping out from behind a tree.
Clifton
.

How she had missed him all these years. And they had been kept apart for far too long.

She rushed to him, and he to her.

“Will you forgive me?”

“You? Will you forgive me?”

They both laughed, and Clifton brushed her tousled hair out of her face.

“What of Mickey?” she asked anxiously.

“Oh, you cannot imagine my joy at finding him! Malcolm’s son! Gads, Goosie, he’s the spitting image of his father.”

“Aye,” she agreed. “But you’ll find he has Mariana’s penchant for trouble.”

Clifton grinned. “Then he will be our joy—and a good example for our children to follow.”

Lucy’s heart swelled—at the thought of a home with Clifton, and children laughing and playing around them.

“I’ve never stopped loving you,” he said.

“Nor I, you,” she whispered back.

And then he kissed her. Slowly, deeply, his lips tender atop hers.

It was his pledge, Lucy knew. His promise.

But their interlude was interrupted by shouting from a rider nearby.

“Clifton! You devil! Is that you?”

The earl looked up. “Asterby,” he muttered.

“You wretched cur! I will see you tossed out of White’s—though I don’t think it will be much trouble, considering what you did to Parkerton.”

“Nice facer,” Lucy said, beaming up at him.

He chucked her under the chin. “I was taught by the best.”

“Do not ignore me!” Asterby said, pulling his horse to a stop before them. “You lowborn dog!”

“Sir, if this is about your daughter—”

“My daughter?! Of course, you fool, this is about my daughter! She’s gone and run off with Percy Harmond—that no-account Tulip! They’ve married. How he came up with the blunt for a special license, I’ll never know, but he did and he’s gone and married my daughter!” Asterby wagged a finger at them both. “If you hadn’t treated her so disgracefully, I wouldn’t be saddled with that idiot for a son-in-law.”

Lucy choked back a fit of laughter, thinking of the angelic Lady Annella, all the while plotting her own escape from her parents’ machinations. “Perhaps it is a love match, my lord,” she suggested.

“A wha-a-at?” Lord Asterby blustered.

“A love match,” Lucy repeated. “Perhaps your daughter simply wanted to marry a man she loved.”

“Marry for love? What utter nonsense! Love is about duty and obligation!”

Lucy looked up at Clifton. “Is it?”

He shook his head. “Not for us.”

“Oh, bah! It is like trying to talk sense to a pair of hedgehogs. What the devil is wrong with the world these days?” Asterby blustered before he rode off.

“Duty and obligation!” Lucy shuddered as Clifton took her by the hand and began to lead her home.

“Oh, don’t discount the importance of those notions, my future Lady Clifton,” he told her imperiously. “For your first order of business is to marry me, then you are obliged to produce an heir.”

Lucy pulled to a stop and spied a wicked gleam in the earl’s dark eyes. “Then I suppose we will have to work on that, er, obligation immediately,” she told him solemnly. “It will take a dedicated effort on your part.”

Clifton bowed before her. “Ever at your ser vice, madame. Ever and always.”

Lucy grinned as he swept her into his arms again. “As you should be.”

An excerpt of a letter to the Right Honorable Lady Larken from her sister, Her Grace, The Duchess of Hollindrake

December 31, 1814
Sent via courier to The British Envoy, Constantinople

… in other news, I regret to say that the Standon widows continue to give my husband endless trouble. If only they were proper dowagers—old and grateful—rather than so indecently young and capable of … well, you know how I dislike gossip, so I won’t burden you with the tales that I hear of their scandalous squabbles.

But I am determined to save the Hollindrake dukedom from being ruined by them, and Minerva, Elinor, and Lucy are about to learn a bit of the wise advice once imparted to us:
When a lady becomes a difficult burden to her family, there is nothing left to do but to find her a husband. And with all due haste …

So that, my beloved sister, is exactly what I intend to do. I’ve dusted off my
Bachelor Chronicles,
and while I do feel the tiniest twinge at foisting these three harridans off on the unmarried men of England, it is, as Father used to say, “desperate times and all …”

Your loving sister,
Felicity

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