Page 45 of The Trouble With Dukes
“Call me out if you must, Moreland. I would decline to meet you.”
Decline to meet?“Are you impugning my skill now, young man? Claiming I’m too enfeebled to hold a weapon?”
“Of course not, Your Grace. But Meggie—Miss Megan, rather—would be the subject of our disagreement, would she not? No matter how carefully we chose seconds, her reputation would be at risk of harm, and that I cannot allow.”
Oh-ho.When a fellow went from kissing to cannot-allowing where a young lady was concerned, all in the space of five minutes, a prudent duke took notice.
“My duchess would scold us both into next week at the very mention of the field of honor,” Percival said. “You do not want to chance upon Her Grace in a scolding mood, Murdoch.”
And yet, a challenge was in order because Murdoch was right: Suitors of any stripe deserved close scrutiny, and the duchess’s odd notions should never be lightly dismissed.
Percival paced across the alley, weighing strategy, letting the prisoner anticipate a dire fate.
Damned interesting time for Gladys to haul Tony off to the wilds of Wales. “I have every confidence that Sir Fletcher’s suit will meet with Lord Anthony’s eventual favor, but Sir Fletcher likely enjoys that same confidence.”
Murdoch refused to rise to that bait.
“You, however,” Percival went on, “have graduated to the kiss-stealing stage. Without excusing your behavior in the slightest, I must admit your attentions were not forced upon my niece.”
If anything, Murdoch’s expression cooled further, from a man without hope, to a man without a heart.
“Nor will my attentionseverbe forced on any young lady, lest Your Grace mistake that matter.” Such a mistake regarding Murdoch’s gentlemanly honor would be fatal, based on the young man’s tone, Code Duello be damned.
Abruptly, Percival knew what opinion his duchess would pronounce on the entire situation. Esther approved heartily of protective fellows, and she approved of fierce young women too.
“Just so,” Percival said, again pacing the width of the alley. “I also hold to the quaint notion that young ladies ought to have final say regarding which fellow they wed, provided the fellow has been deemed worthy of the lady’s interest. I’m according you that honor, Murdoch. Within the bounds of discretion, and assuming my brother agrees with me, you are free to pay your proper addresses to Megan, though you will doubtless have competition from Sir Fletcher.”
Murdoch’s brows came down. He opened his mouth, but no words emerged.
Esther would be delighted.
“I don’t approve ofyou,” Percival said, which was not entirely accurate. “I merely think Sir Fletcher will esteem more highly a prize he must work to win. If Megan decides she’d prefer an unpolished Scot who steals kisses—well, that Scot is a duke, he’s reputed to be more than solvent, and Megan was engaged in a bit of amatory larceny too. Best of luck, in other words, because you’ll need it.”
“I was supposed to leave for Scotland tomorrow, Your Grace. I’m aware of the honor you do me, but I must in all candor—”
“You’re reciting the wrong speech, Murdoch. I’m not proposing marriage to you. I’m using you to goad Sir Fletcher into courting Megan the way she deserves to be courted. You will join me for next Tuesday’s levee, and we’ll take my town coach. I’ll send my solicitors around to have a chat with you regarding the warrant of precedence, and my tailors will be by this afternoon to ensure you have adequate attire for the occasion.”
The poor fellow looked bewildered, which was a vast improvement over his earlier, bleak expressions.
“But sir, traveling north has become—”
“One doesn’t interrupt a duke, Murdoch,ora duchess. Don’t forget that.” Unless one was family to same, in which case interruptions came from every direction. “I have two further points in need of elucidation.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“I heard you mention letters to Megan. I’ll not have heated correspondence between you and my niece. Firstly, reading is difficult for Megan because of her eyesight, so your passionate effusions are likely wasted on the page. Secondly, any man who indulges in literary fancies toward his lady risks his sentiments becoming public, and if that happens, I won’t have to call you out. My sons and sons-by-marriage will line up for the privilege.”
Well, no, they wouldn’t—the entire lot of them were married to very fierce women—but the threat sounded impressive.
“Understood, sir. Was there anything more?”
Megan’s Scot was looking so serious, so willing to be chastised. The longer Percival considered the situation, the more he approved of his decision. He patted the younger man on the shoulder.
“Don’t fret too much about the levee. Five minutes of chatting about the Highland scenery or discussing the fox pelt dangling from your reticule, and—”
“Sporran, Your Grace, and that’s a badger pelt.”
“—and I’ll have you out of there. One other thing.”
