Chapter Seven #2
“We just returned from the country. We haven’t been back to Town since before the holidays. Who has seen me?”
“Do you not wish to look extra special for Lord Kirkston?”
“Bad form, Seri.” Merry spotted Fipps entering the parlor and went after him. “Do not try to manipulate me by using Duncan as bait.”
“It will get us out of this house the remainder of the afternoon,” Serendipity said. “Or do you prefer to remain here and entertain the vainglorious Lord Brixham?”
Merry came to a full stop, wrinkling her nose at that prospect. “Dropping in on Madame Couire is definitely the preferable choice.”
“Very well. Let us advise Fipps to speak to Frogsden, and then we shall be on our way.”
*
“Who is Lady Atterley?” Duncan eyed the invitation to a Valentine’s Day ball as though it were about to bite him.
“The grande dame of the ton.” Malcolm sorted through the rest of the unopened correspondence piled in the middle of Duncan’s desk. “She always gives the first ball of the Season. It is understood.”
Duncan tossed the paper his way. “This must be for yerself or Mother.”
Malcolm flipped the sheet of fine paper over and tapped on the name and address. “The Most Honorable, the Marquess of Kirkston.” With his usual irritating smugness, he grinned. “That is not me.”
Pawing through the pile of notes and letters, Duncan searched for one with the same flowery script, found it, and tossed it at him. “There. That one is addressed to ye.”
Malcolm grinned. “Extravagant lady. She didn’t wish to miss either of us. Lady Atterley has the most agreeable soirees. They are not to be missed.” He tucked the invitation inside his coat pocket. “I can assure ye Lady Merry will be there.”
Duncan sagged back in the chair, unable to believe so many had already sent invitations for engagements.
How the bloody hell had they known he would be in London?
He rubbed his tired, gritty eyes, wishing he’d left the ledgers and correspondence for another day.
Today’s only saving grace was that he had promised himself to call upon Lady Merry as soon as possible.
The tightness in his chest eased at the very thought of her.
It was his hope, now that they were in Town, that he could convince her to make their feelings official with an engagement.
They might not have known each other long, and he knew he wasn’t worthy of her, but damn if he could force himself to let her go to another man.
He touched his cheek, remembering her farewell kiss. “How can ye be so certain Merry will be there?”
“Her brother, the duke, is an eligible bachelor, and Merry and her sister are not only eligible to be brides, but most desirable because of their dowries. The Broadmeres are invited to every engagement. To do otherwise would be an unforgivable slight and start one’s demise within the ton.”
“Merry is no longer eligible.” Duncan straightened, butted the correspondence bin up against the edge of the desk, and shoveled the papers into it. “We are courting. Here. Ye go through the rest of this shite. I did the ledgers. Make yerself useful.”
Ignoring the bin, Malcolm shook his head. “No one knows about yerself and the lovely Lady Merry yet. She must be seen in yer company and dance with ye more than twice at the same party.”
Duncan squinted at his brother. “Who makes up these feckin’ rules?”
Malcolm shrugged. “I dinna ken. I just know what they are to try to protect myself from being trapped by them.”
“Trapped?”
“Aye, trapped. Marriage-minded mamas and their debutantes are relentless. Remember old Maclayton’s daughter, and how she trapped that husband of hers?” Malcolm shook his head. “Poor bugger. He’s fair miserable, that one is.”
Duncan shuddered, remembering the shrewish woman well. “Aye, may God have mercy on his soul. Be careful, brother.”
“Dinna fash yerself about that.”
Rising to stretch his cramped muscles after sitting at the desk for hours, Duncan shook off the tension and weariness and started toward the door.
“Where do ye think ye’re going?” Malcolm asked. “Mother will be having tea shortly.”
“I told ye earlier. I intend to call on Merry.”
“Today?”
“Well, of course today. What is wrong with today?”
Malcolm shook a finger, making Duncan ready to snap it off at the knuckle. “This is the week before the start of the Season. The week when everyone who is anyone returns to Town. It is rude and inconsiderate to go calling when folk are trying to reopen their houses.”
“Ye lie.”
“I do not.” Malcolm started picking through the basket of letters. “If ye wish to anger Lady Serendipity even more than ye already have, ye best wait a few days before calling on Lady Merry.”
“The hell I will. I promised myself to see her today, and I fully intend to keep that promise. Lady Serendipity will simply have to find it in her heart to forgive me.”
Malcolm tsked like a ticking clock. “Unwise, brother. Verra unwise.”
“What is unwise?” their mother asked as she entered the office with three cats at her heels. “Good gracious. So much correspondence already?”
“’Tis the start of the Season,” Malcolm said. “Welcome back to Mayfair.”
“Indeed.” She turned and gave Duncan her full attention. “Well? What would be unwise?”
“My intentions to call on Lady Merry today.” Duncan knew his mother would side with Malcolm. She usually did.
She frowned as though struggling to come up with a diplomatic answer. “Ye ken she and her family may have just arrived home? In fact, they may not have arrived at all. There are still a few travel days left.”
“If she has not arrived home yet, I shall leave my card.” There. That sounded like a reasonable option. “And if she is not receiving, I shall do the same.” Although it would hurt his heart immensely if she rebuffed him. After a curt nod, he started toward the door again.
“Duncan.”
He almost groaned aloud, hating when his mother took that tone. “Aye?”
“Would it not be better to at least wait until tomorrow? Or perhaps the day after that? Ye could take her to Gunter’s Tea Shop, since the weather is too blustery yet for a nice promenade.”
“No. I am not waiting.”
“He’ll not listen.” Malcolm handed the basket of unopened letters to his mother. “Yer turn.”
She shoved it back into his hands. “Dinna be lazy. ’Tis sinful.
” Then she turned to Duncan. “If ye intend to marry this girl, ye best be remembering that when ye marry someone, ye dinna just marry them. Ye join with their family as well.” She arched a rueful eyebrow.
“And her family has yers sorely outnumbered. ’Twould be unwise to forget yer manners around them. ”
Duncan waved her words away as he left the room and strode down the hallway toward the back of the townhouse. Barclay was waiting with his greatcoat, hat, and gloves as though the man’s ear had been glued to the office door. Duncan didn’t care as long as it served his purpose.
The mews across the lane at the back of the garden housed the Kirkston carriage house and stable. Rather than boldly ride Spartan, he would be a dignified gentleman and go visiting in the carriage that bore his crest on the door.
He snorted. Even he knew that would be a noticeable sign that he had chosen to give his attention to one of the lovelies at Broadmere House.
Gossips and tattle-tongues would go to great lengths to discover which sister he was visiting. What better way to start the Season and notify everyone of his intentions?
“Fenton, Angus. Get the carriage ready. I have a lady to see.”
The stable master and driver responded with knowing grins as they hurried to carry out his orders.
From his nearby stall, Spartan grumbled as if knowing he was being left behind.
“Not this time, old friend.” Duncan gave the horse an affectionate rub just underneath the jaw, where the horse always liked a good scratching. “When I return, I shall give ye a fine brushing, aye? And a carrot or two for good measure.”
Spartan grumbled again but sounded somewhat mollified.
“Where we be going, my lord?” After shrugging on his heavier coat, Angus climbed up into the driver’s seat.
“Broadmere House. St. James’s Street.”
Duncan climbed into the carriage, settled himself comfortably on the cushioned seat, then thumped the roof to signal Angus he was ready to go.
The conveyance eased into motion with a smoothness that made him proud.
Perhaps Merry would like to go for a ride around Town?
He shook his head. On second thought, if she had only just arrived in London, she was probably tired of riding in a carriage.
The muddy roads had added hours to his journey. Hers had surely been longer, as well.
Even though the streets of Mayfair were crowded with those arriving back in London, it didn’t take all that long to get from Kirkston Place on Curzon Street to Broadmere House on St. James’s.
As the carriage rolled to a stop, Duncan noted that the front of the house was clear of carriages loaded down with trunks to be unpacked.
Good. Perhaps Lady Serendipity wouldn’t be too upset with him, then.
Angus opened the carriage door and held it.
The capes of Duncan’s greatcoat fluttered in the chilly wind as he stepped out. He squinted up at the sky, which had turned to a cold blanket of gray. “I shall see if the Broadmeres have shelter for ye while ye wait. If not, sit inside the carriage. ’Twill shield ye from the wind.”
Angus gave him a dubious look, then waggled a wild, bushy brow. “That ain’t proper, my lord. Not here in Town.”
“When have ye known me to care about what is proper?”
With a snorting laugh, Angus touched the brim of his cap. “Aye, my lord. It shall be as ye wish it.”
“Good.” Duncan strode up the steps and rapped the brass door knocker on the plate.
Barely a moment passed before the door opened, revealing Fipps—the younger butler. Recognition flashed in his eyes. He bowed, then stepped back while opening the door wider. “Good day, Lord Kirkston. Do come inside.”
“Thank ye, Fipps. I am here to see Lady Merry. Is she receiving today?”
“I do apologize, my lord, but Lady Merry and Lady Serendipity are out for the afternoon. Would you care to leave your card?”
As Duncan pulled the visiting card from his pocket, the sound of men laughing erupted from behind the closed door to the left. He glared at it as he held out the bit of parchment with his name scrawled across it. “Please see that she gets it, Fipps. Can I trust ye to do so?”
“Of course, my lord.” The butler took the card, placed it on a silver salver, and set it on the small, narrow table beside the door. “Lady Merry always checks the table as soon as she returns, but I shall remind her, just in case.”
“Thank ye, Fipps. Forgive me for doubting ye. But I know ye’ve yer hands full with poor old Walters.”
Fipps glanced at the library door, then took a step closer. “Mr. Walters passed, my lord. Right after you departed Broadmere Hall after Lady Merry’s birthday.”
“Gads alive. I am sorry, man.” Duncan was thankful the butler had warned him. He’d noted how fond all the Broadmeres were of the forgetful old butler. “I appreciate yer sharing that with me so I dinna make a misstep and ask about him.”
Fipps nodded and took a step back, returning to his usual stoic self.
The library door opened, and the duke and another man Duncan didn’t recognize stepped out into the hallway. Broadmere turned and smiled. “Lord Kirkston! Welcome. Merry will be so disappointed that she missed you.”
“As am I,” Duncan said, eyeing the man beside the duke.
“Good day, Lord Kirkston,” the stranger said, his tone filled with a not-so-subtle challenge that Duncan would be more than happy to accept.
Broadmere waved him closer. “Do forgive my manners. Lord Kirkston, this is Viscount Brixham, an old friend of the family.”
“Good day,” Duncan said to the man, spitting out the words as though they tasted bad.
He tipped a nod to the duke. “Forgive my rudeness in calling when ye’ve only just arrived, Yer Grace, but I wished to see Lady Merry.
” The viscount needed to know that Merry was his, and he best not be sniffing around her.
“Merry and Serendipity have gone to the modiste.” Broadmere gave a heavy sigh. “It appears we have many engagements to attend. The stack of invitations is daunting. Being an eligible bachelor, I am sure you were inundated with the same.”
“Aye, I left Malcolm and my mother to sort through them.” Duncan didn’t like the way the viscount squared his shoulders and threw out his chest when Broadmere had named him eligible.
He wasn’t eligible, and Broadmere knew that.
It simply wasn’t official yet. If that smirking viscount wasn’t here, he’d be speaking to the duke about Merry and making his intentions crystal clear.
“Why are we standing here in the hallway?” Broadmere urged Duncan and the viscount forward, pointing them toward another room to the right of the entry hall, a fine parlor with a warm, crackling fire.
“You should stay for dinner, Kirkston. Merry would love it, and that way, the men would outnumber the women. Stay. Say you will.”
The men would outnumber the women. That meant that feckin’ viscount was staying for dinner.
“Aye, Yer Grace. I would love to stay for dinner.” He remembered Angus and the horses out in the dreary weather.
“Might yer stable have room enough for my man and the team to shelter? The weather’s gotten colder. ”
“He is just a servant,” the viscount said. “I understand worrying about the horses, but is your man not accustomed to rough weather?”
“Angus is a loyal man whom I value. I dinna treat him like property I dinna care about.” If this cold, ruthless man went anywhere near Merry, Duncan would kill him.
Even Broadmere turned and scowled at Brixham. “I shall have Fipps tell your man to pull around to the mews behind the house,” he told Duncan. “There is plenty of room for your team, and your man can wait in the kitchen and have a warm supper whilst we enjoy our own.”
“Thank you, Yer Grace.” After witnessing the Broadmeres’ care of Walters, Duncan hadn’t doubted that Angus would be treated kindly. The Broadmere family respected a person no matter their station, just as Duncan did.
“Your things, my lord?” His hand extended, Fipps offered a polite nod.
After handing off his coat, hat, and gloves, Duncan resettled his footing as if ready to do battle. “I look forward to dining here this evening, Yer Grace. Thank ye for the invitation.”