Chapter 10
The Duke of Rivers propped his booted feet up on the desk in the study of his house along the lake just north of the Thames and several hours west of London, leaned back, closed his eyes, and let out a series of particularly colorful curses.
“Well said, Your Grace,” Harlowe said at the end.
“Why is she avoiding him?” Rivers demanded.
Fennyman strode into the office on his last words, languid as a cat. “We have arranged the house party. There’s not a great deal more we could do.”
“Yes, there is.” Rivers snapped upright and slammed a hand on his desk, causing the ink jar to jump. “We could lock them in a room together and see what happens.”
“That sounds like a French farce,” Fennyman returned. “Perhaps that would be fun. And yet somehow I don’t think that it is a very good idea.”
“Why not? I’m a duke. Surely, I can lock people in rooms and see if I can make them get together.”
“I still don’t think it will work out the way you think,” Fennyman said.
Harlowe murmured his agreement.
“Et tu, Harlowe? You are supposed to always agree with me.”
Harlowe had the good grace to look chagrined.
Rivers sighed. “Surely, this is much harder than it should be. Westfort and Agatha were kissing within twenty hours of meeting each other.”
“Yes, but these two are not Agatha and Westfort,” Fennyman pointed out.
Lord Philip strolled into the room. “Who are we discussing? Our current couple who refuses to do what they are told?”
Lord Philip, the brother of the Duke of Westfort, was young, handsome, sent down from Oxford recently, and extremely capable. The young man was always in a spot of trouble, but it was always for a good cause.
“Yes, Philip,” Rivers drawled. “That’s exactly who we’re talking about.”
“You look as if you’re going to have apoplexy.”
“That’s what I told him,” Fennyman said.
“No,” Rivers put in. “You said that about Harlowe.”
Fennyman shrugged. “It seems to be catching. Perhaps young Phillip here will be next.”
“You first, Fennyman,” Phillip sallied.
“I am not ready for failure on our second try,” Rivers declared. “I am a person who wins things. People who like to win things do not take failing well.”
Philip grabbed a blood-red apple from the bowl of fruit on the table at the end of the room and asked, “Why do you think you’re losing?”
“Because they don’t seem to want to stay in the same spot together, and they haven’t kissed yet.”
Philip took a bite of the apple, stared at the white flesh, and said, “You’re just providing the wrong temptation, you know.”
The duke cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“Well, think about it. Eve wasn’t exactly seduced by the apple. She was seduced by what the serpent was offering, knowledge.”
“Knowledge,” the duke echoed.
“Yes, the young lady doesn’t have enough knowledge to know what she’s missing.
” Philip waggled his brows. “She’s never been kissed.
Why would she care about kissing? And she’s smart enough to know that getting involved with a rake will cause her trouble.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she was in her room right now peering down, watching him being surrounded by young ladies in the garden. She’s no fool, that one.”
“Right,” the duke said, irritated. He forced himself to take several deep breaths to prevent the aforementioned apoplexy. “Perhaps I’ve made this worse by bringing them in such close conjunction and having her watch all those young ladies swarm about the earl.”
“The earl is a magnetic figure,” Philip said. “He’s the sort of gentleman women can’t resist because…” He sighed. “Well, there’s something slightly forbidden about him.”
“Forbidden,” the duke said. “He’s not forbidden. He adores women.”
“Yes, but there’s something about him that seems on the verge of scandal, slightly unhinged, different from Skyburn.
Like all it would take is one good shove, and the man would be sin incarnate.
It’s the wound in him that he tries to hide,” Phillip said with a touch of annoyance. “Ladies love that.”
“Why?” Rivers demanded. “That’s counterproductive to one’s well-being.”
“Look, ladies love wounded fellows,” Phillip insisted. “Reason is not necessary in such things.”
“Is this true?” Rivers asked, swinging his gaze to Fennyman.
“Why are you looking at me?” Fennyman demanded, in his black clothes and dark looks. “Are you suggesting I appear wounded?”
Philip and the duke both said, “Yes.”
Fennyman let out a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, fine, it’s true.
Unfortunately, ladies love to try to heal wounded gentlemen.
To fix them, as it were, when no one else can.
They’re certain that they can change them, turn them, protect them, or finally make their lives better.
It’s a terrible instinct, but it’s undeniable. ”
“We don’t want her to fix him, do we?” Rivers asked. “Does he need to be fixed?”
“Rivers,” Philip said softly, “you’re a good man. You’re clever, but dear God, you don’t understand people.”
“I know. That’s why I have the two of you.”
Fennyman crossed to the tall set of French windows overlooking the lawn.
“Since this is all going so poorly, I think something must be done. We’ve got to find a way to get her out of her rooms. She’s staying up there because she doesn’t want to see him.
She came here strictly for her aunt and for her cousins. ”
The duke frowned, mulling over the dilemma. “She’s a good person,” he whispered.
“That’s why we picked her,” Phillip pointed out, clearly not following.
“We picked her because she’s not easily manipulated or maneuvered,” Rivers said. “So we must stop manipulating her. No, we must appeal to her good nature.”
Fennyman began to smile and then he winked. “Right. We will.”