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T he following week found it very convenient that Thorpe only lived two doors down from Serenity.

He would walk over in the morning and then, at eleven o’clock, they would take Nelson and Havoc around the square.

After that, they might disappear into the library pretending to look for a book or otherwise while away the afternoon.

Thorpe was invariably invited to stay for dinner, and then of course, he would attend them in the drawing room afterward.

Valor mentioned several times that it seemed like he didn’t even have his own house to go to.

Not to be defeated by the youngest Nicolet, Roland had consulted with the duke, gained his agreement, made the necessary preparations, and then enacted his plan on one fine and brisk morning.

It had taken some doing, but he’d found just the right approach.

Now that everything was in place, the hired carriage with a mysterious coat of arms that in fact did not exist had been brought round to stop at the Duke of Pelham’s residence.

The duke had been clever at arranging for his daughters, except for Lady Valor, to be elsewhere.

He claimed they were to visit their maternal grandmother, the pious and reserved Lady Neville, who had relocated to Town for a month.

The duke had explained that they never saw her, as she did not like the duke, but she did send his girls awful Christmas presents that were full of moral rectitude and modesty.

As the duke had predicted, everybody put up a fuss about it.

What were they to say about receiving specially bound copies of Sermons to Young Women ?

Were they supposed to claim they’d read them?

What if Lady Neville asked for their impressions of Mr. Fordyce’s works?

He only excused Valor from going, as she was deemed too young to face the stiff-lipped dragon and would crack under the interrogation.

After they had set off, the rest of his brood would discover they were only going to Lackington & Allen to wander the aisles of books for a few hours. They were sworn to secrecy to never reveal it to Valor, which they would all readily agree to once they were apprised of the plan.

Now, that plan was launched. One of the footmen showed Roland into the duke’s drawing room, where he found Lady Valor and the housekeeper playing cards.

“Lady Valor,” he said with a quick bow, “I am most relieved to find you at home.”

Lady Valor, not particularly an admirer of him, narrowed her eyes.

“Why?” she asked. “You’re never looking for me.

You’re always looking for Serenity so you can steal her away from us.

She’s visiting our grandmother, but I didn’t have to go because she’s a dragon and I would crack under her questions.

Maybe you should have gone and she could breathe fire all over you. ”

“Now, child,” Mrs. Right said, patting her hand.

“She could, though,” Lady Valor said. “Probably.”

“I do not deny the charge of stealing away your sister,” Roland said, “but in this case I most decidedly require your intervention. A certain Lord Westerven was at my club this very morning, joking about drowning the runt of his dog’s latest litter.

As you can imagine, I argued strongly against it.

He could not be moved, though. Then I bet him at cards that if he lost, he must come and hear your views on the subject.

It is my experience that you are not bashful of speaking your opinions in a forceful manner. I pray you can get through to him.”

“Drowned!” Lady Valor cried, leaping from her chair. “Did you win the bet?”

“I did, and Lord Westerven is even now outside. He is not happy about it, but he could not renege without embarrassing himself at the club.”

As Roland had hoped, the expression of outrage on Lady Valor’s face was sublime.

“Thomas!” she shouted, though the fellow was right there at the door, “I require my cloak!”

In just a few moments, the actor who had been hired to play the diabolical Lord Westerven was going to get an earful.

He was the perfectly stern-looking older gentleman with delightfully pinched features.

Anybody looking at him might really believe he’d drown the runt of the litter.

They might believe he’d drown the entire litter.

As it was, the fellow had been carefully instructed on his role.

Roland followed Lady Valor out of doors. She marched to the carriage and directed the groom to open the door.

The young fellow did so with alacrity, as what else was he to do? He was an actor too, as was the coachman up on the box and they all knew precisely how this was meant to unfold.

Valor stared into the carriage at the old gentleman with a wood box beside him. The alleged Lord Westerven looked derisively at her and said, “What is this? I imagined I was to hear from some seasoned matron. How old are you?”

“Never mind how old I am, sir . I am old enough to know a villain when I see one. Lord Thorpe has told me of your shameful joking about drowning a poor defenseless pup.”

“I wasn’t joking, though,” Lord Westerven said. “I will direct my coachman to make a small detour to the Thames and be done with the undersized creature.”

“Oh no, you will not!” Lady Valor said, climbing into the carriage. She picked up the umbrella lying on the seat and beat Lord Westerven around the head with it.

This was an unexpected development. Roland had not warned any of the actors of a physical attack. He jumped in after her and wrested the umbrella from her hands. “Lady Valor, I am certain we can resolve this matter without undue violence.”

“We should throw him in the Thames,” she said, glaring at Lord Westerven.

“For heaven’s sake, child, what do you expect me to do with this weak and substandard specimen?”

Lord Westerven looked into the box to draw Lady Valor’s eye there, rather than where it was, which was looking around for another implement to beat him with.

Valor peered in. “Weak and substandard? I must believe you are near blind, sir. You should be deeply ashamed of yourself.”

“Well I’m not. I’ve got a right to do what I want with a creature that belongs to me, and no impertinent little miss will tell me otherwise. Thorpe, I’ve held up my end of the bet, and now I must be off. Get this young person out of my carriage.”

Valor looked toward Lord Thorpe with tears welling in her eyes, no doubt considering the fate of the tiny pug looking up from the bottom of the box.

“See here, Westerven,” Roland said sternly, “I won’t have it. We will take your dog from you and you will say nothing about it. Unless, of course, you would like to meet me on a green at dawn tomorrow to settle the matter.”

Roland gave that challenge a tone of deadly threat. It was important that Lady Valor be convinced that he’d shoot Lord Westerven to pieces if he did not hand over the dog.

“Take it if you like, it will save me a trip. Don’t expect it to amount to much though, I doubt it’ll survive the night.”

Roland picked up the box, helped Lady Valor down to the road, and shut the carriage door. To the coachman, he said, “Be off with you.”

He strode inside with the box. He carried it into the drawing room with Lady Valor close on his heels. The pup did indeed look exceedingly small, but that was due to the breed. In fact, he was a rather roly-poly eight-week-old pug with not a thing wrong with him.

“Is it true that he might not survive the night? What should we do?”

“Send for blankets to keep him warm. Warmth, food, drink, and attention. That is always what’s required to keep a young dog going.”

He picked up the pup, who was really very sturdy, and placed him in Valor’s arms.

Mrs. Right, who well knew of the plan from the duke, said, “There now, I know you will take good care of him, Poppet.”

As Lady Valor scratched under the pug’s chin, she said, “We’ll need the box put in my room.

He’ll need to stay with me in the night.

That way, I can check on him if he cries.

” Lady Valor paused. Then she said, “And he could make me feel better when I have a nightmare about Lord Westerven and the Thames. I will definitely have nightmares about him. Probably forever.”

And that was how Sir Galahad, as he would be named, slipped into the house, allowing Serenity and Nelson to slip out of it.

*

The wedding breakfast was held in the duke’s house, though Serenity did not allow the duke to hire performers from Astley’s Circus like he had for Felicity’s breakfast. Lady Marchfield was very appreciative of it, since during that particular breakfast she’d been knocked off her chair by an acrobat, doused with water when the fire-eater set curtains ablaze, and had her ankle grabbed by a fellow walking on his hands.

By comparison, Serenity’s breakfast was positively sedate.

That was probably for the best, as the couple were in a high state of feelings after the vows were spoken and any unnecessary excitement might have sent them both over the edge.

It was only a few family and friends and there had been no cause to even think about inviting Lord Charles, as he had hightailed it to the continent with nary a look behind him.

The wedding had been done through a special license and as nobody was eager to rise early, it was held in the afternoon in the duke’s drawing room.

The curate from the Grosvenor church was brought in to officiate, as the duke thought it might soothe any lingering ideas the fellow might have about reports that his housekeeper had dealings with the devil.

While the celebration that followed was called a breakfast, it was rather more an early dinner, which suited everybody.