Page 28 of His Darling Duchess
“There’s hot water in your room and your man is waiting for you, m’lord. I’ve pigeon pie and a good beef stew for your dinner, when you and the duchess are ready.”
“Sounds wonderful.” Rhys didn’t have to feign enthusiasm. Aurelia had chosen to eat very little all day, explaining that carriage travel oftentimes made her queasy and she preferred not to eat too heavily, and he hadn’t liked to keep her waiting while he ate a meal. He was very much looking forward to a hearty dinner of Mrs. Bretton’s excellent cooking, even more than the hot bath he knew Harris would have ready for him.
Ascending the stairs, he resolved to enjoy Aurelia’s company and think no more on Grantleigh for the day. There was nothing he could do until his cousin was found and brought to face him anyway.
Chapter Twelve
“More brandy,” Lord Grantleighordered his butler.
“Of course, m’lord.” The man scurried to do his bidding, but when he returned with another bottle, he did not come alone. “Beg your pardon, m’lord, but there’s a Mr. Hale here to see you.”
“Who?” Grantleigh scowled. “Nobody knows I’m here.”
“It’s your home, isn’t it?”
Grantleigh rose to his feet, glaring at the man who’d pushed into his study behind the butler, not waiting to be invited into his presence. “Who the hell are you?”
“Jeremy Hale, m’lord. I work for your cousin. The Duke of Stowe.”
Rage welled up in Grantleigh’s breast. “What the hell does he want? I’ll be back in town soon enough, I’m just waiting a few days until Colesworth’s temper cools.”
Hale looked bemused. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to, m’lord.”
“Lady Aurelia Lymsey.” The man must be dense. “I’ll be marrying her once I return to London, but her brother’s a hothead. I need to give him time to cool off, or for the Earl to talk some sense into him, or he’ll do something foolish.”
Hale stared at him. “You think Lord Colesworth is likely to challenge you, for the assault on his sister?” The man sounded almost amused.
Grantleigh wanted to tell him it was no laughing matter. Louis adored his sister, and he would be furious that Grantleigh had finally lost his patience and forced the issue.
“I think you’d better take a look at this, m’lord.” Hale reached into his coat pocket, removed a folded sheet of paper and passed it over.
“What is it?” Unfolding the paper, Grantleigh discovered it to be a newsprint, a page from The Times. “What am I supposed to be looking at?” he asked impatiently.
“On the other side, m’lord. Right up at the top.”
Flipping the paper over, he scanned the page. A name jumped out at him instantly, and he froze, reading the announcement again with a sense of mounting incredulity.
Married today at Lymsey House by special license, his Grace Edward George Rhys Armington-Stowe, the seventh Duke of Stowe, and the Lady Aurelia Caroline Cole, eldest daughter of the Earl and Countess of Lymsey.
“What the fuck?” exploded from him, and he snapped his gaze up to stare at Hale in total disbelief. “Stowe married her?”
“Well, when she was found alone in the library with him, with her gown half torn off, I don’t think he felt he had much choice,” Hale said dryly. “Since the culprit was nowhere to be found.”
“Nowhere to be found because Stowe ordered me to get out!” Flushing, Grantleigh slapped the sheet of newsprint down on his desk. “And now he’s stolen my bride!”
“Stolen your bride?” Hale said, his voice turning hard and cold, and Grantleigh noticed suddenly that the other man was a burly, strong-looking sort, with large hands clenched into fists as he advanced. “He stepped in to clean up your mess, you complete waste of space! Half London was gossiping about the lady, and where were you?”
Taking a stumbling step back, Grantleigh found his legs pressing against the seat of his chair, sat down. “I didn’t think he’d tell anyone,” he said, but the excuse sounded weak to his own ears. “Except Lord Lymsey, of course, to arrange the wedding.”
“You didn’t think he’d be there at all,” Hale said, openly scornful now. “That’s why you told your mother to bring Lady Lymsey and meet you in the library. You expected to be found by the ladies.”
It was quite true, and Hale had obviously spoken to his mother to confirm it. “Well, of course I did,” Grantleigh snapped defensively. “Any man would. Lord Lymsey wouldn’t give his approval for the match…”
“Any man of honour would have waited,” Hale cut him off. “Not tried to force the issue by compromising the lady.”
“Now see here!” Angered by the man’s obvious contempt, relieved his butler had made himself scarce but aware of the open door and probable listening ears, Grantleigh jumped to his feet. “You can’t come in here and talk to me like that!”
“I don’t answer to you, Lord Grantleigh, I answer to the duke, and his orders are quite clear. I’m to give you this letter and ensure you remain here until he arrives to deal with you. My associate’s already left for Stowe Hall to collect him.”
