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All that, though, was of no matter. He would have been happy with a couple of rolls if it meant he was to dine with Lady Serenity.

He’d discovered she and her sisters rode Dales ponies and he found himself interested in seeing the duke’s stable.

He understood they were surefooted, but then Lady Serenity was able to tell him of how courageous they were, and how their dark eyes were bright with intelligence.

Charles attempted to butt into the conversation, but he did so by describing a horse race. Roland did not believe Lady Serenity had any interest in such things. Her only question about it was if any of the horses had been hurt.

She was such a kind person; of course she would not care for which horse won the race or which gentleman won the purse, but just wished to assure herself that the horseflesh had come through it unscathed.

When that story seemed to go nowhere, Charles said, “I pray it was not presumptuous of me to send that sketch of Nero.”

“Goodness, no,” Lady Serenity said. “He seemed as if he were a charming little dog.”

Charles had sent a sketch of the nonexistent dog. He really was beyond the pale.

“Dare I hope that it has become one of your personal possessions?” Charles asked.

What a smarmy idiot.

Lady Serenity wrinkled her forehead. “Now that you speak of it, I believe it is in the drawing room somewhere. Well, it’s bound to turn up.”

Roland suppressed a smile. A very good sign that she had no idea what she’d done with it. “I cannot express enough,” Roland said, “how enthusiastic Havoc was to make the acquaintance of Nelson. He was really cheered by it.”

Roland was satisfied to note the look of annoyance on Charles’ face.

“I feel almost remiss in failing to see that Nelson might wish to have a friend. He seemed so pleased with it, I probably should have seen it all along.” Lady Serenity dabbed at her eyes, deeply affected by the idea that she may have let Nelson down in some way.

This rather affected Roland too, and he worked to keep his features neutral lest he betray himself. He would not like Lady Serenity to note it, and if Charles saw it, he would be sure to make hay with it.

“I imagine Nero and Nelson would have been fast friends,” Charles said. “They are more similar in size.”

Roland wished Charles would shut up about that nonexistent dog. Further, Charles would not have the ability to see that size had nothing to do with it. It was a superficial idea, as were most of Charles’ ideas.

“I believe it was their hearts that made friends, Lord Charles,” Lady Serenity said. “I am not sure Nelson and Havoc even noticed the difference in their sizes.”

“I only say, that mastiff could do some damage if he liked it.”

As Lady Serenity recoiled from the idea, Roland leaned forward. “Havoc has never attacked or been cruel to any being on this earth, unlike some people I know.”

Charles reddened. He generally did not have a retort when something hit too close to home.

“Stratton, Dashlend,” the duke said from the head of the table, “are you to tell these two gentlemen what they can expect in not too long a time?”

Roland looked between the two sons-in-laws, presuming it was to be some sort of special port, or special cigars. Though, the longer he looked at those two gentlemen, the less confident he was about that idea. Why did they both look so downcast?

“Thorpe, Lord Charles,” Dashlend said, shaking his head sadly as if he was apologizing for something.

“It cannot be helped,” Stratton said with a shrug.

What could not be helped? Whatever it was, it sounded dreadful.

“It’s Fact or Fib!” Lady Valor said, leaning forward to call down the table. “You will have to play it. Papa will bring the port and brandy into the drawing room and we’ll all play together. I get to go first because I might suddenly get overtired and have an outburst.”

“Trust her on that warning,” Dashlend said, nodding.

“I’m sorry, I do not believe I am familiar with that game,” Roland said.

His brother snorted. “Thorpe does not get out much,” he said. “I am certain I played it at a house party last summer.”

This caused the duke to roar with laughter. “He thinks he played it!”

“You can’t have,” Winsome said, “we invented it.”

Charles reddened even further, which served him right. He was forever attempting to be a know-all. Somehow he’d failed to learn that it generally did not pay off.

“I imagine you played something similar, Lord Charles,” Lady Serenity said kindly.

“Yes, I suppose I must have,” Charles said.

“Do not be too sure of that,” Stratton said. “I am not confident there is anything like it. Or that there ever should be.”

His wife, Lady Felicity, laughed. “You know you adore it,” she said. “Except when it is your turn.”

Lady Verity nodded knowingly. “It was how we discovered that Mr. Stratton stares at Felicity when she sleeps.”

“Because he stays in the same room all night,” Lady Valor said in a tone that could only be described as disgust.

“I stared one time!” Stratton said. “Or twice at the most.”

“Fib!” Lady Valor shouted.

“Ah, look!” the duke cried, “you have all given them both a look of foreboding. Never mind it, gentlemen—you cannot win. All you can do is drink to get through it.”

“I plan to ask some pointed questions,” Lady Valor said threateningly.

What was this game? He was to be asked pointed questions and then what? Was he to understand that Stratton and his bride’s sleeping habits had been inquired into?

He did not know what he was in for, but as the duke had risen and directed the footmen to relocate the port and brandy bottles to the drawing room, he was about to find out.