Page 41 of How to Ruin a Duke
When His Grace Falls by Grace Burrowes
Chapter One
“A duke cannot, of course, beruined, except by his own folly, and what an entertaining spectacle that can be!”
FromHow to Ruin a Dukeby Anonymous
“She is the personification of gall, the embodiment of presumption, and a walking temple to betrayal.”Thaddeus, Duke of Emory, made a precise about-face at the edge of the library’s carpet.“I’d sooner share my coach with a viper than admit this family ever employed Lady Edith Charbonneau.Stop swilling all the good brandy.”
Thaddeus had been scolding and lecturing his baby brother for more than twenty years, not that Jeremiah had ever listened.
“A lady’s companion has a difficult lot,” Jeremiah said, draining the last of the spirits from his glass.“Have you considered paying Lady Edith off?I’d be happy to act as intermediary.”
Thaddeus made another about-face before the portrait of the previous duke.“That’s quite generous of you, but she hasn’t demanded to be paid off.She hasn’t even acknowledged her authorship of the damned book.And what sort of woman titles a book,How to Ruin a Duke?She and I barely spoke during the whole of her tenure as Mama’s companion.What she knows about dukes wouldn’t fill a toddler’s porringer.”
The mere sight of Lady Edith’s compilation of drivel—already sold in a bound edition—made Thaddeus want to roar profanities and throw the book at the nearest fragile object.He’d been the object of satire before—every peer was—but he’d never so badly misjudged a woman’s character.
He’d liked Lady Edith, rather a lot, and he liked very few people indeed.
“What she knows aboutyou,” Jeremiah said, “handsomely fills nearly three hundred pages.Have you read it?”
“I wouldn’t admit it if I had.”Much less admit that he’d read it several times, word for word.Alone, of course, because on occasion—rare occasion—the author managed a humorous turn of phrase that provoked a begrudging laugh.
Jeremiah opened the book to a page at random and ran his finger along the prose.“‘His nose is of majestic proportions, and those ladies in a position to comment knowledgeably—said to number in the scores—claim other aspects of the ducal anatomy are in proportion not only to His Grace’s magnificent proboscis, but also to his considerable conceit.’This can’t possibly be aimed at you, Emory.Your conceit surpassed considerable before you reached your majority.At the very least, your conceit qualifies as stupendous.”
“Unlike your sense of humor.”The footmen had positioned a spray of daisies on the mantel, a half inch off center.Thaddeus corrected the error and realized the flowers were nearly out of water.
“Again, Your Grace, I suggest with all deference that if you’d simply wave a handsomesumat the woman, your handsomepersonwould no longer be the subject of her literary maunderings.I’ll search her out, handle the details, and nobody need ever acknowledge the source of the money.”
Now that was a fiction approaching the absurd.Jeremiah was so inept at managing his funds, his allowance was disbursed every two weeks rather than quarterly.He was a good soul, but too generous with his friends and too reckless with his bets.
No misanthropic spinster would ever write a satirical tome about Jeremiah.Being a charming, impecunious courtesy lord had its advantages.
“Will you join Mama and the ladies for the carriage parade?”Thaddeus asked, using the pitcher on the sideboard to water the flowers.The day was glorious as only London in late spring could be.
“Isn’t it your turn, Your Grace?”The polite form of address became mocking when Jeremiah adopted that tone.
“I rode with them yesterday and the day before,” Thaddeus replied, returning the pitcher to the sideboard.“The ladies prefer your escort because everybody likes you.”
Jeremiah saluted with his brandy glass, which was full again.“You really do need to work on your flattery, Emory.”
“I am a duke.I need not flatter anybody.I’m simply speaking the truth.You are not only received everywhere, you arewelcomedeverywhere.”While Thaddeus had long since reconciled himself to merely being invited everywhere.
He and Jeremiah both had the family height, blue eyes, and dark hair, but Jeremiah had perfected the air of a man amused by life’s contradictions.Thaddeus could not afford that posture, which only made the damned book all the more vexing.
“I do have a certain modest social appeal,” Jeremiah said.“I admit it.If I’m to squire Mama and the ladies about, I suppose I’d better change into riding attire.What pressing engagement prevents you from joining us?”
A dozen pressing engagements.The house steward was in the boughs over some comment the sommelier had made about the dampness of the cellars.The kitchen staff agreed with the sommelier, the footmen had aligned themselves with the house steward, and the maids were stirring the pot as maids were ever wont to do.Mama expected Thaddeus to make peace among the warring parties—a task that Lady Edith had somehow managed from time to time—but really, the cellarwasdamp.All London cellars were.
“My afternoon is not my own,” Thaddeus said.“And it’s your turn, Jeremiah.”They had a schedule, so the escort tribulation was evenly divided between them, but the schedule was usually honored in the breach, and the breach was invariably on Jeremiah’s part.
“Give my regards to whichever merry widow is claiming your time, Emory.”
The tailor—a short, bald, nervous fellow who had no acquaintance with merriment that Thaddeus could divine—claimed that a final fitting for Thaddeus’s new frock coat was absolutely imperative, the third such final fitting for that one garment.
The Committee for the Relief of Aged Seamen hadn’t disbursed this month’s funds, mostly because Thaddeus hadn’t yet bullied them into it.
No less than four bills pending in the Lords required a judicious application of ducal persuasion in the direction of various earls and other tedious fellows, all of whom wanted to be seen having dinner with Thaddeus at his clubs.
