Page 16 of A Wallflower Takes a Duke
“Mina—. What am I to do?”
She hung her head for a moment and then fixed her impossibly blue stare on him. “Papa, I’m truly sorry Lucy sprained her ankle, but I very carefully explained to her how to climb out on the limb and then drop to the grass below. I’m not sure what went wrong, but I’m pretty sure her fear made her forget all of my instructions, and…”
Her father extended his hand, palm facing Mina. “Please, Poppet, stop. You cannot expect the rest of the world to be as fearless as you.” He spread his arms wide. “The rest of us, unfortunately, are mere mortals.”
Mina studied her slippers a long time before speaking again. The prolonged silence unnerved Lord Rumsford. Finally, she squeaked out, “I suppose you should make me go to my room without afternoon tea to think about my sins.”
He forced himself to refrain from a smile. “No, because you’d just read some book on Greek mythology, and…one of your devoted followers from the kitchen would sneak you a plate of chocolate biscuits. However, it’s interesting that you mention tea.”
Her eyes flashed with uncertainty as if she suspected she’d been outmaneuvered.
“I’ve asked Cook and Mrs. Phippen to organize an afternoon tea for all the young ladies of the parish.” He steepled his fingers in front of his face to hide a triumphant grin. “It’s time you started performing your duties as lady of the manor.”
“But, Lucy…I have to take care of Lucy.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Lucy has been tended by Dr. Sherman. He’s wrapped her ankle and pronounced her fit to attend if a footman carries her to her chair. In fact, she’s looking forward to meeting the other young ladies.” He stared back at his much-too-clever daughter. He felt as though he’d just taken her queen at chess. Chess. Another game he wished he’d never taught her.
At that, the rumble of carriage wheels sounded through the open window.
“Ah—your guests are here. Off with you. Your maid has laid out a clean frock. A lady doesnotkeep her guests waiting.
Lord Rumsford stood, signaling their meeting was over and crossed his arms. When Mina turned and walked slowly toward the library door, scuffing her slippers across the carpet, he felt an absurd moment of triumph. He’d finally bested his eleven-year-old sprite of a daughter at something.
* * *
May1828
Albany
Mayfair, London
Julian pinched shut his nose and swung his gaze around the quarters at Albany on Piccadilly where the Rumsford heir and his younger brother now shared rooms, thanks to their lady-mother having banished them from the Viscount’s townhouse in Hanover Square.
George Tindall’s valet scurried about picking up clothes scattered around the sitting room after the young men’s adventures of the previous night, apparently. Young Wills’s valet had left to secure a pot of tea from a nearby shop. Julian and the remaining valet were tacitly ignoring the stench of stale wine emanating from empty and half-full bottles crowding every available surface.
“I take it they’ve not arisen yet this morning?” Julian realized his question was rhetorical, but he was trying to be polite.
“No, I’m sorry to report, Your Grace, they have not.”
“And, um, what time do they usually surface?”
“Perhaps you’d like to call again closer to one or two this afternoon? You’re welcome to stay for tea, but…” He swept his arms around him, encompassing the mess in the sitting room.
“Do they create this much havoc in their rooms every night?” Julian was beginning to feel a bit of alarm at the extent to which his two former school mates seemed to have fallen into dissolute habits.
The valet leaned close, as if he were afraid someone would overhear their conversation. “I’m afraid so. The viscountess requested they vacate the family townhouse and rent rooms with their allowances.”
“Ah,” Julian said. “That explains a lot.” He swept a pile of soiled cravats off the end of the sitting room table and sat to scratch out a message for the brothers. When he waved a hand toward the valet, the man raced to collect paper, a pen, a pot of ink, one of sand, and wax.
* * *
Since the twoof you apparently have forgotten the reason we’ve been called to town, I am here to remind you. Instead of your usual rounds of debauchery, tonight you’ll join me at an exhibit at the Royal Academy - six o’clock sharp. As you are well aware, your father has charged me with saving your mortal souls. Do not be late. In case the two of you think to ignore my summons, please be aware your father has discussed the possibility of suspending your allowances.
Your most humble servant, &etc.
Julian Jameson, Duke of Montfort
* * *