Page 8 of His Darling Duchess
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t be demanding you name your seconds,” Lymsey said icily as Stowe closed the study door.
“I’m not the one who attempted to compromise your daughter,” Stowe said bluntly, and the older man blinked at him.
“Then how do you explain what I just saw?”
“I interrupted my cousin Grantleigh trying to force himself on her.”
“Christ,” Lymsey said after a moment, and Stowe nodded with a grimace. Picking up the brandy decanter, he tilted it in Lymsey’s direction. The earl nodded, sinking to sit in a chair.
Pouring a generous measure, Stowe handed the glass over and waited until Lymsey had taken a healthy swig before speaking. “It was clear Lady Aurelia wasn’t welcoming Grantleigh’s attentions. I hauled him off her and sent him packing, out of thehouse, before I did something I might regret later. I was about to send for a maid to assist Lady Aurelia when Lady Lymsey and my aunt walked in.”
Lymsey took another gulp and wordlessly held out his empty glass. Stowe refilled it.
“I offered for Lady Aurelia at once, and despite the circumstances, I will be more than happy to honour my word, if she’ll have me. I regret we were seen by some other ladies in the hallway…”
Lymsey said several words Stowe had only ever heard on the battlefield, and from the mouths of soldiers who’d been London gutter rats before joining the army, at that.
“Quite.” Honestly, he shared Lymsey’s sentiments. “If your daughter prefers, I’ll bring Grantleigh up to scratch.” Seeing Lymsey swelling up like an angry bullfrog, he smiled wryly. “Right now, I’d rather horsewhip him than see him wed Lady Aurelia.”
Lymsey, a politician so erudite his speeches were often reproduced in full for the newspapers, could only muster a growl of rage.
“I was not witness to what led up to the incident, but I did see Grantleigh’s expression when I interrupted them. He was looking at the door in a way I can only call expectant; he was most unpleasantly surprised to see me.”
“You think he intended to be caught,” Lymsey immediately grasped what Stowe was suggesting. “The little — he was trying to force my hand. I wouldn’t permit him to offer for Aurelia.” His fists clenched against his legs, and Stowe considered refilling the brandy glass a third time, but decided against it.
“It would seem his patience ran out. The decision must be yours, of course.”
“And Aurelia’s,” Lymsey said after a moment. “Lady Lymsey and I have always told the girls they will have the freedomto choose their own husbands. I was lucky in my arranged marriage, but I’ve seen too many which turned out badly.”
Stowe nodded in agreement. “I must leave the matter in your hands. It’s possible you have another candidate available, but I assure you I stand ready to rectify this slight on Lady Aurelia’s honour.”
Lymsey considered him thoughtfully. “As the Duchess of Stowe, nobody would dare whisper a word about Aurelia’s smirched reputation,” he said.
“Precisely.” Stowe bowed his head, glad the earl understood his meaning.
Lymsey sat in silence for what felt like endless minutes, sipping at the last of his brandy, obviously turning over in his mind his next steps.
Stowe broke the silence when another potential issue occurred to him. “You’d best find your son - Colesworth, isn’t it? - before he hears some wildly inflated rumour and does something regrettable.”
“Christ.” That propelled Lymsey to his feet. “You’re right, Stowe.”
A light tap at the glass French doors made Stowe turn. Hale, one of his most trusted men, nodded to him.
“Your carriage will be at the side gate. Let us see Lady Lymsey and Lady Aurelia safely off, and then you can go and locate Colesworth. I’ll accompany you; the pair of us seen interacting amiably should serve to quieten the most violent rumours, at least for tonight.”
“You’re a pretty cool customer, aren’t you, Stowe?” Lymsey said.
“Not panicking under fire has been something of a career requirement,” Stowe said quietly, and Lymsey barked a harsh, humourless laugh.
“I dare say.”
Lady Aurelia was bundled in both her own wrap and a thick woollen shawl of his aunt’s, Stowe saw when they returned to the library. Lady Lymsey and Lady Grantleigh sat one on each side of her, holding her in a close embrace as she cried into a quite inadequate lacy handkerchief.
“The carriage is here to take you both home, my dear,” Lymsey said. “Send it back for me and I’ll follow with Colesworth later.”
Lady Lymsey shot Stowe a poisonous look as she rose to her feet, but her husband raised his hand.
“Easy, Elizabeth. The situation is not what you think, though it’s still grave. I’ll explain all when I get home and we can talk tomorrow about what’s to be done.”
