The Hazards Of Hunting A Duke (15 page)

“As usual, you have no concept of what you say,” his father said angrily. “You are so very careless with this family’s responsibility.” His gaze raked over Jared. “You are a disappointment to me.”

“I can be no more a disappointment as a son than you are a father. And frankly, I should rather be

careless than heartless. You have interfered with every aspect of my life. Could you not at least allow me

the courtesy of choosing the woman with whom I shall spend the rest of my days on this earth? I intend

to marry Ava Fairchild, sir. The offer has been made. If that does not please you, there is nothing more I

can do.”

The duke paled; his gray eyes turned wintery. “Nothing more you can do?” he managed, his laugh sour. “

You could be the son I raised you to b e. You could make a better effort to understand what honor and duty and pride mean before you drag our name through the mud with a woman like that whore

Waterstone! You could heed my advice instead of turning your back to me time and again! And now you have only made this situation worse by offering without thought! I would advise you not to engage in any more talk of marriage until this woman has accepted our terms.”

It was all Jared could do to keep from lunging at the old man. Or wringing his neck. “Her name is Lady Ava Fairchild. And they are not our terms,” he managed to say, his voice full of dark anger. “They are mine. All else may be yours, but this marriage is mine.” He turned and strode for the door before his

father could speak, his hands aching to be around his father’s gullet.

He should have gone to his club or home —somewhere quiet, somewhere he could take a deep breath

and calm himself. His father was a difficult man, and Jared had learned when he was a boy that if he took

the time to recover his composure, he could usually smash down the hurt and resentment into a compact, neat little box that he stuffed away somewhere deep inside himself.

But today was different, for he had let go of his pride and conceded to his father’s wishes, had agreed to

a perfectly acceptable match, yet his father still found fault. Jared’s anger was so raw that he could scarcely think, much less calm himself. His first thought was to speak with his intended bride and set a wedding date as soon as was possible.

He barked at his driver to proceed directly to the Downey town house, where he sprang out of the carriage before the footman could descend and strode to the door, rapping hard with the brass handle.

A man dressed in an ill-fitting suit of black clothing opened the door almost instantly and peered curiously

at him. “Aye?”

Aye? Jared was momentarily taken aback, but quickly recovered, reaching into his coat pocket for a card. “Lord Middleton calling fo r Lady Ava,” he muttered, holding the card up between two fingers.

“A caller!” the butler said aloud, looking terribly pleased. “One moment, milord.” He turned away from

the door, walked across the foyer to a small console, and picked up a silver tray, wi th which he returned and held out to Jared. Jared impatiently dropped the card onto the tray.

“Right, then. Now I’m to take it up,” the butler informed him.

“I am quite clear on the procedure, sir, so if you would hurry it along.”

The butler smiled—one tooth missing, Jared couldn’t help noticing —and stepped back.

“You might come in, then.”

Sweeping his hat from his head, Jared stepped across the threshold. He’d never been inside the Downey home, and while he found the décor tasteful, it seemed rather Sp artan, the house small.

The butler held the silver tray out from his body, as if he were afraid to touch Jared’s card. “This way, if you please, milord.”

“Would you not deliver it first?” Jared asked as he removed his gloves.

The question seemed to conf use the butler. He wrinkled his brow, seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, milord. You’re to accompany me, I’m quite certain.”

Rather odd, Jared thought, but he supposed they lived without the suffocating bonds of formality here,

which, under different circumstances, he might appreciate. He followed the butler up a narrow staircase, then down an even narrower corridor to a pair of polished doors, which the butler instantly threw open without knocking.

Inside, three women gasped and jerked their gazes to the door. Ava was the first to react, practically

leaping from her seat and rushing toward the butler. Her sister, seated beside her, jumped up and whirled about, and seemed to be stuffing something in a basket as she stole several furtive glances over her

shoulder.

And the third woman—dressed in the gray of a maid’s uniform—smiled so lustfully at him that Jared feared for her employment.

Ava did not seem to notice her at all as she frantically grabbed the silver tray the butler held and pushed

the man back toward the door. “Mr. Morris!” she exclaimed, s miling anxiously at Jared.

“You’re to announce the guests.”

“I’d do so, mu’um, could I read his card.”

That earned a furious blush from Ava. She glanced nervously at Jared, then the tray, and snatched up the snowy white card. “You should really wear your spectacles, sir,” she gingerly chastised the butler. “It is

Lord Middleton calling.”

“Lord Middleton calling, mu’um,” Morris said, bowing slightly.

“Thank you,” Ava responded tightly. Behind her, Lady Phoebe clasped her hands demurely in front of her, b ut with her foot she pushed a basket out of Jared’s sight.

“How do you do, my lord?” Ava said, curtsying.

“Very well, thank you.” He glanced at the maid, who continued to smile wantonly.

Ava noticed his gaze and frowned at her maid. “Sally, will you kin dly find Lucy and have tea brought up? My lord, please do come in,” she said, motioning toward a settee. “Mr.

Morris, that will be all.”

“Aye,” he said cheerfully, and walked out of the room. Sally, however, was not so easily put off.

Ava’s smile faded. “Sally, that will be all, thank you.”

Surprisingly, at least to Jared, who often forgot his servants were even in the same room because they were so deadly quiet and inconspicuous, this maid frowned at Ava. “As you wish,” she said petulantly.

He would have dismissed her from employment on the spot.

Ava, however, merely smiled, smoothed back a loose strand of honey blond hair that had fallen over her eye, and said uncertainly, “How…how good of you to call.”

“Perhaps now is not a good —”

“It’s perfect,” she said, more securely, and reached out her hand to him. He took it and brought it to his lips. “Will you sit?”

“Thank you.” With a flip of his tails, he settled into the seat she had indicated. Ava and her sister sat on

an opposing settee at the same moment, side by side, and flashed twin, beaming smiles at him.

Ava had a fair face, he’d give her that, as did her sister. Both of them were pretty in an unconventional

way, but it was the joie de vivre in Ava that he found most attracti ve. Attractive, perhaps…but marriage?

He swallowed down a lump of sudden hesitation and looked at his hands. “How good of you to call,” Ava said again, forcing conversation.

Jared glanced up and saw that her hand was nervously clutching her knee. “Thank yo u,”

he said for want

of anything better, and glanced at her sister. “I had hoped we might talk,” he said softly.

Ava and her sister exchanged a quick look.

“If you will excuse me, my lord,” Phoebe said, and stood up. “I was just, ah…just in the midst of writing

a letter to our cousin, Greer.” Her eyes flicked to the writing desk, as did Ava’s. The desk was remarkably free of ink or paper. “I mean to say, I was in the midst of thinking of writing a letter—”

“The inkwell,” Ava said evenly, “has been refilled . It’

s just there, in the desk drawer. So you might attempt your letter, darling.”

“Yes. A letter,” Phoebe repeated, and stood up, marched to the writing desk, sat hard on the wooden chair, and spread her hands before her, looking at the desk as if sh e’d never seen it before. She was, Jared realized, doing her best to give them some privacy.

“In the drawer,” Ava said again, smiling anxiously at Jared. “You will find ink and paper in the drawer. A

pen as well.” Her smile went brighter, as bright as it had been yesterday in the Prince’s Pavilion at Vauxhall. Moreover, it was a smile that somehow made him feel better about what he was doing, more sure of himself.

He leaned forward, planted his arm on his knee, and said softly, so that Phoebe would not hear, “If you will forgive me…I would hope that we might see our way to the altar sooner rather than later.”

“Oh!” Ava said, her eyes lighting up.

He glanced at Phoebe, who had yet to locate the ink, b ut was making a concerted effort to find it by opening all the drawers of the writing desk. “I thought perhaps we might marry at my seat, Broderick Abbey, under special license. I have taken the liberty of applying to the archbishop for it.”

She blinked. Her smile faded. “Lady Ava?”

She likewise stole a glimpse of her sister, who had not found the ink but a letter of some sort, which she

was pretending to read very closely, then looked at him earnestly. “I must inquire, my lord—will this…

marriage,” she said, stammering a little on the word, “protect my sister and cousin from being bartered off

in marriage to the first man who asks? My stepfather will want to see them married quickly and without regard for their preferences. I should like to offer them a haven, if you—”

“Of course.”

“But…but Greer is in Wales just now —at least we hope she is in Wales —and Phoebe, well, Phoebe—” “Madam, my home will be your home, and therefore, by extension, home to your sister and cousin.” “Really?” she asked hopefully, and straightened up, beaming at him.

“Then you will agree to travel to Broderick Abbey to marry?” he asked.

“I will. When do you propose?” “Soon. I cannot bear the wait.”

“Soon?” She suddenly leaned forward again, so that her face was close enough to kis s if he were so inclined. “How soon do you mean?” she whispered.

“As soon as is possible.”

Her pale green eyes lit up and she smiled. “But you realize, my lord, that there will be all sorts of wretched speculation as to why we marry quickly, do you not?” she whispered.

“I don’t care,” he whispered back.

“What of a dowry? Shouldn’t you know the details of my dowry? My mother left a modest amount—”

“A dowry is not necessary,” he said quickly. “Leave it to your sister and cousin.”

Ava straightened again and blinked. “But…but my dowry is the only fund left to me, in the event you, ah

…in the event you, well, perished, to say it quite bluntly. Not that you would,” she said hastily. “I mean, unless you were an old man. Which you will b e one day, but then so shall I be an old woman, and I wouldn’t have need of it —”

“Lady Ava,” he calmly interrupted. “I shall ensure you are left with adequate pin money should I perish. I

will even put it in a separate estate so that it is legally yours i f you desire. But I would prefer that we forgo

any negotiations with your stepfather about the dowry as well as forgo the posting of the marriage banns

so that we might proceed as quickly as possible.”

“All right,” she said slowly. “Shall we say a month?”

“I had in mind a date sooner than that. I had in mind Friday next.” “Friday next?” Ava exclaimed.

“Friday next?” Phoebe echoed, startling Ava and Jared. “Are you quite mad, my lord?

There’s no time

for a trousseau or a gown —”

Jared glanced at Ava. “I wi ll provide whatever you need.”

“No, Ava!” Phoebe cried. “What of Greer? You can’t marry without Greer at your side!”

she exclaimed

just as the door flew open.

Any response Ava might have given was lost as a rather large woman bustled into the room, carrying a silver tea service and a plate piled dangerously high with scones.

Jared quickly gained his feet.

“Good afternoon, good afternoon!” she said as she hurried to the table between the settees and lay the service down. “I am Miss Lucille Pennebacker, Lord Downey’s sister and guardian to these two young women.” She thrust out her hand.

Jared took it. “Lord Middleton, at your service.”

Lucille Pennebacker instantly dipped into a girth -defying curtsy. “It is indeed a pleasure, sir! Please do

sit,” she said as he helped her up, “and allow me to serve you tea.” She was already pouring. “How kind

of you to offer for our Ava. Now that she is of a certain age, my brother and I had despaired of receiving

a proper offer.”

“Miss Pennebacker!” Ava cried, clearly mortified.

The woman shrugged as she handed a china cup and saucer to Middleton first. “It’s very well true!” she said, pouring another cup. “You’re one foot on the shelf, my dear.” She settled onto the settee next to

Jared with her back ramrod straight and her cup balanced precariously on her knee as Ava rolled her eyes at her sister.

“My brother is expected within weeks,” Miss Pennebacker said. “I suppose you’ll want to speak to him

as soon as he arrives?”

“Unfortunately, we haven’t time to wait,” Jared said politely. “Lady Ava and I have agreed we will not prolong this engagement. In fact, we will be leav ing for Broderick Abbey by the end of the week.”

The doughy woman’s cup froze midway to her mouth and her little finger, properly extended for tea drinking, likewise froze. She did not move, did not speak, but could only blink big black eyes at him.

“Ahem,” Ava said, trying to draw Jared’s attention.

He ignored Ava and smiled pleasantly at her chaperone. “Are you quite all right, Miss Pennebacker?”

Miss Pennebacker suddenly sounded as if she was strangling. She put down her teacup with a clatter and gaped at Ava. Then at Jared. “You cannot mean this!” she exclaimed as she pressed a chubby hand to

her equally chubby bosom. “You cannot marry without Egbert’s consent! It’s just not done!”