Page 5 of The Duke and Lady Scandal
She’d been raised to be Mama’s companion. Sickness had plagued her in childhood, so she’d learned to love quiet endeavors—reading, writing, knitting, and, eventually, bicycling in London’s parks.
She rarely got into the sort of mischief her siblings had, but she’d yearned to claim the confidence that came with being a Prince. And yet, regardless of how she aspired to, she didn’t seem to possess the Prince propensity for notable accomplishments. She did love research, especially genealogical investigations or tracing the histories of lady pirates. In fact, she’d begun writing a book about lady pirates as a child—a mostly fanciful fiction then that had now become a more serious endeavor.
But she wasn’t interested in finding buried pirates’ treasure.
Allie was much more interested indoingsomething of value than finding valuables.
Unfortunately, her own nature held her back. She was awkward, often saying the wrong thing or talking too much altogether. As a result, she had a tendency to offend when she was only trying to be of help.
Mama thought finishing school would tame her with all its rules of etiquette. But so much of it had been nonsense about giving gentlemen precedence or the place ladies should occupy in Society and those they should not. Still, at five and twenty, Allie understood that diplomacy and delicacy should be considered before blurting one’s thoughts.
The difficulty was that her tongue didn’t always comply.
Recently, there’d been anincidentwith a long-standing customer of the family antique shop, Princes of London, and the nobleman had complained. As head of the family, her brother took it as his purview to smooth over such matters, and he had, but he’d yet to deliver the admonishing talk that inevitably followed such incidents.
In the morning, as he’d said, they would have that discussion.
So Allie fell into bed—once she’d cleared it off—still nursing disappointment and dreading whatever lecture Dom would deliver in the morning.
After a fitful sleep, Allie woke early, washed and dressed, and then made her way to the family antique shop on Moulton Street just as the first hints of the dawn lit up the brick building.
She’d considered going in later, after Dom and Eve had departed, to avoid goodbyes and apologies and whatever admonitions Dom felt compelled to deliver. But she wasn’t a coward, and opening the shop was her responsibility.
Though Dom had taken to sleeping in the living quarters that had once been the family’s home above the shop, he still took little interest in the everyday running of Princes. Eve and Allie suspected the only reason he resided upstairs was to shield them from his dalliances.
Allie hadn’t gotten three steps past the frontdoor before she heard her siblings whispering in the back room.
“Let me speak to her,” Eve said softly.
She was the most even-tempered of them all. Allie preferred to deal with Eve when trouble was afoot.
“No, I shall.” Dom’s insistent tone did not bode well.
Allie took a deep breath to steel herself. His lectures weren’t nearly as strident as their late father’s had been, but he did have a terrible habit of believing himself right about very nearly everything.
“Don’tmention Aunt Jocasta,” Eve put in a bit more loudly.
At hearing the lady’s name, Allie felt a mix of tenderness and sadness. Though she adored her aunt, Allie had long feared they were two of a kind. The odd ducklings of the Prince clan. The awkward ones who never quite fit into a family of fame and accomplishments. The ladies who would eventually be relegated to the countryside.
Perhaps they were plotting such a fate for Allie, but she would fight it with everything in her.
She might not be a typical Prince, daring and dashing and devil-may-care, but she would not forfeit the autonomy her parents had allowed. There’d never been pressure to marry or enter into “acceptable roles for a lady,” and they’d bequeathed each of their children an equal share of the family’s wealth and of ownership in their business affairs.
No, she would not be sent off to the countryside as her aunt had been.
“What is it that you have to say to me?” shesaid in as bold and unaffected a tone as she could manage.
Dom stood in the doorway between the front of the shop and its cozy back room. He turned as soon as her question was out. “Morning, Allie.”
“Morning,” she told him brightly.
She was prepared for this. When necessary, shecouldbe diplomatic. And she certainly wasn’t a child in need of lectures. If they were going to leave her to run the shop while they were away, then they needed to trust her to do so.
And in this case, she’d done nothing wrong. Lord Corning might not have liked her “too forthright manner,” but Allie had only intended to help. To do what was right. And that, unfortunately, often involved telling people what they didn’t wish to hear and subsequently landing her in a muddle.
Dom paced the back room as he searched for something. She suspected it was his favorite notebook and pen, which he was forever misplacing.
“I’m still sorry about the trip,” he said in a distracted tone. “Both of us are, but as to the matter with Lord Corning, you can’t simply keep...” He shrugged as if at a loss to explain. “Rushing in tohelp, particularly when it’s not wanted.”
