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“There is nothing on the calendar,” Mrs. Right said.

Lord Thorpe bowed. “I take my leave then. Mrs. Right, Lady Serenity, Lady Verity, Lady Winsome, Lady Valor.”

He turned and walked Havoc back to his own house.

Serenity turned herself, as she did not wish to be noted staring at his departure. It had gone exceedingly well!

“Lady Serenity,” Lord Thorpe called from his doorstep, “we will walk again on the morrow?”

Serenity turned her head. “At eleven,” she called.

She and her sisters hurried into the house. Throwing off their pelisses into the waiting arms of the footmen, Serenity said, “What a glorious walk.”

Valor took that moment to stalk up the stairs. She turned on the staircase and said, “Now I am torn! I want him to go away forever and, also, I’m being honored with an early dinner!”

Serenity hid a smile. “It really is an honor, Valor.”

“I know it,” she said, giving the stair rise a good stomp.

*

Roland felt the dog walking had come off without a hitch.

Coming back into the house had not been so pleasant.

A letter waited for him from his brother.

Charles wrote that The Albany was not proving as comfortable as he’d imagined and he was weighing whether he ought not move into the Grosvenor Square house.

He asked that his rooms be made ready in case he decided in favor of the idea.

At first, Roland was confounded. He did not wish his brother in the house, especially when he was poised to hold a dinner for the duke and Lady Serenity.

However, he could not keep him out. It was not his house yet, it was the duke’s, and his father would insist that Charles have access to his rooms.

On further reflection and a conversation with Quinn regarding Charles’ habits, he became more sanguine about it.

As far as Quinn was concerned, this was a typical Charles-like salvo.

He would have no intention of moving in and finding himself second fiddle, which was why he went to The Albany to begin.

It was only that Charles could not help needling Roland that he might relocate into the house because he could relocate into the house if he wished.

Now, Roland haunted Lady Jellerbey’s dim rooms for her annual candlelight picnic, waiting for Lady Serenity to arrive.

As was Lady Jellerbey’s habit, candelabras of all sorts stood lit on tables throughout, but the chandeliers overhead remained dark.

It gave the house a gloomy and haunted feel, but for the very good sideboard offerings which cheered the whole thing up.

He’d seen Charles was already in attendance, though he’d wished that he would not see his brother at all. When Roland had caught sight of him, he’d slipped off to another room, hoping the dimness of the place had masked his departure.

Unfortunately, it did not. “Brother,” Charles said, hurrying after him, “one would almost think you were avoiding me.”

“One would be right,” Roland said drily.

“I presume you received my letter and have directed the servants to ready my rooms.”

“I have received your letter and have not directed the servants to do anything,” Roland said.

“I will not put my staff through a pointless exercise. If you wish to relocate into the house, you can arrive and bloody well wait in the drawing room until they’ve had a chance to get to it, which I will inform them is not a priority and should not interrupt their regular duties. ”

Charles, as he always did when Roland spoke in a forceful manner to him, bristled. “I do not suppose Father would approve of this less than welcoming attitude.”

“Then you’d better write him and tell him all about it,” Roland said. “Though, I will not lose any sleep over it. The proud Lord Charles never places himself in a situation where he is not the most important man in the room, so I am not expecting you to arrive.”

“Just because you will inherit the house does not make you the most important,” Charles said petulantly.

“It does in that house. I think you would find that Quinn would take no orders from you and the footmen follow Quinn’s lead in everything. You’d be lucky to get a tea tray when you asked for it.”

“Quinn,” Charles said derisively. “You must be the only marquess in England who holds on to his nanny.”

“Quinn has more value, in both common sense and a moral compass, than you have as yet demonstrated.”

At the mention of a moral compass, which Roland was certain Charles understood to be a failing, his brother looked as if he would explode.

“What ho!”

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the duke and Lady Serenity.

Roland’s attention was immediately diverted from his steaming brother.

Lady Serenity was looking entirely smashing in a crème colored satin with a midnight blue gauze overlay that was embroidered with bees charmingly circling daisies in a matching dark blue thread.

“Your Grace, Lady Serenity,” Roland said.

“Lady Serenity, Duke,” Charles said, pushing himself forward.

The duke looked at Charles, frowning. Roland understood his brother had just done a very ill-considered thing. In an effort to attempt to somehow place himself above Roland, he’d assumed a familiarity with the duke that had not been invited and was clearly not welcome.

“Your Grace, I think you meant to say,” the duke pointed out to Charles.

Charles reddened at the chastisement. As well he should.

It was the stupidest thing in the world to assume equal footing with a duke unless and until that duke insisted upon it.

Roland was not aware of anybody who’d been given the honor by the Duke of Pelham, and he speculated that it amused the duke to be monikered in any way graceful.

He knew it amused the duke to put a person on the back foot, as it seemed to be his preferred sport.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Charles mumbled.

“Well, now that we have that sorted out,” the duke said, “Thorpe, I got your invitation to dine for Friday and as I was certain to see you here, I could not bother writing out an answer. We will attend.”

Roland was both gratified that the duke indicated attendance, and aggravated that it had been mentioned in front of Charles.

“There is a dinner? At our house?” Charles asked.

It did not escape Roland that his brother put the emphasis on “our” house.

“A very early dinner,” Lady Serenity said. “Lord Thorpe has been so good as to take into consideration my youngest sister’s fortitude, or lack thereof, when staying awake past her usual time for retiring.”

“I see,” Charles said. “It is in consideration of Lady Violet.”

“Lady Valor,” Roland corrected.

The duke looked at Charles and said, “Hah! It doesn’t look like you were invited to this early dinner.”

Lady Serenity laid a hand on her father’s arm and said softly, “Papa, do not tease.”

“I do not mind an early dinner; I would be delighted to come,” Charles said. “My father has been urging me to visit the house and this will provide a perfect opportunity.”

Before Roland could inform him that he had not and would not be invited regardless of what their father thought of it, Charles bowed. “Your Grace, Lady Serenity, I excuse myself to greet Lady Sommersby.”

The duke said, “I suppose I put my foot in it there.”

“Certainly not, Your Grace,” Roland said. It was very true that the duke had put his foot in it, but there could be no benefit to confirming the idea.

“I know what the problem is,” the duke said.

Roland braced himself for some comment on the less than genial relations between him and his brother.

“I have not yet had a glass of Lady Jellerbey’s fine claret. I’ll take myself to a sideboard and try not to singe her curtains this time! Thorpe—show my daughter round the place.”

The duke strolled off, laughing to himself. Lady Serenity turned to him. “You do not like your brother much.”