Page 227 of Dukes for Dessert

Carole had to get back in there.

Father furrowed his brow. “What does His Grace want with my daughter?”

She opened the letter to find out.

* * *

Miss Quincy,

Please excuse my rudeness yesterday. If you are free this afternoon, you are welcome to search for your earring.

Azureford

* * *

“I left something behind the night of his party.” Carole refolded the paper. Her father did not ask when or what party. He paid even less attention to the goings-on outside of his house than he did inside of it. “I’ll drop by to get it when we’re finished with this game.”

“After I win, you mean,” Father teased. He surveyed the table. “Sorry, love. You haven’t got a shot. This game is mine.”

Irritation flashed. She was tired of being overlooked by the one person she cared about most. If Father bothered to come out of his study for more than an hour a week, perhaps he wouldn’t underestimate his daughter.

Without stopping to chalk the leather tip, she yanked her cue into position. Her bracelet jangled against the wood and a carefully curled ringlet fell into her eyes, but none of that mattered. She could hit this shot with the cue behind her back.

So she did.

Her father’s mouth fell open. “Have you been letting me win? How long has this been going on?”

She kissed his cheek. “Better luck next week.”

With that, Carole lay her cue across the green baize and walked out of the billiard room. She almost even made it to the front door before the housekeeper flagged her down.

“What is it, Mrs. MacDonald?”

“I’m afraid there were no apples today at the market.” Mrs. MacDonald wrung her hands. “I’ll have to make pear tarts instead. Will that do?”

“Of course it will do. Pear tarts are lovely. Now, if you don’t mind—”

“But apple tarts are Mr. Quincy’s favorite. He eats them every evening after your billiards match.”

Father ate his favorite tarts after every billiard match because Carole had arranged it that way. A delicious, cinnamon-spiced treat to thank him for not forgetting her altogether.

“Pear tarts are my favorite,” she said to Mrs. MacDonald.

“They are?” The housekeeper frowned. “But the kitchen hasn’t made pear tarts since…”

“Add a little cheese, if you would, please.” Carole’s stomach rumbled in anticipation. “And some walnuts, if we have them.”

The housekeeper’s gaze softened. “Just like your mother used to do.”

Carole cleared her throat to hide the impact of those words. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

Mrs. MacDonald hurried back to the kitchen.

Carole opened the door and strode out into the sunlight before anyone else could stop her.

She made it almost to the main road when her eyes caught sight of a happy couple strolling arm-in-arm. Penelope, and her new husband Nicholas.

Carole immediately dropped to one knee as though she were retying her boot. If she held this position long enough, they wouldn’t spot her behind the hedgerow and would keep on walking toward the castle.

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