Page 74 of How to Ruin a Duke
“Lady Edith didn’t act guilty, and she didn’t display the sort of means that a popular book should have generated.”
“Oh dear.”Elsmore kicked a ball back to a knot of little boys across the square.“Facts in contradiction to your assumption.Whatever shall you do, Your Grace?Shall you fume and fret for another week?I think so.I think you don’t know what to do for once.Somebody should write a book about that.The Duke of Emory has been felled by Cupid’s arrow.His legendary sense has deserted him, and I, for one, am delighted.”
“You, for one, are obnoxious.What the hell am I do to?I can’t trust the woman and I can’t seem to find the resolve to threaten her with ruin.”Unless Thaddeus wanted to risk writing to her ladyship, threatening her with ruin would mean seeing her again, and that…
He wanted to see her again, wanted her to protest her innocence, and he wanted to dunk his head in the nearest horse trough until his common sense returned.He also wanted to know that Edith was well, that she hadn’t been evicted from the drab little house on the tired little street.
“Emory, I have known you since you were a prosy little prig taking firsts in Latin without trying.What are you always telling me when I face a difficult choice?”
Thaddeus answered without thinking.“Good decisions are made based on good information.”Which pronouncement was no damned perishing help whatsoever.
“So consult with your Mama, chat up your uncles and aunties, have a word with your cousin Antigone, and a blunt talk with Lord Jeremiah.I find the elders and infantry are often more observant than I am, and they all know Lady Edith.They’ve all read the book, they all know you.Ask for their perspective, and you might learn something useful.”
Elsmore was awash in family, and he seemed to delight in the role of benevolent patriarch.He could kick a ball straight across the square because at family picnics, he doubtless played with his nephews.He made shop girls smile because his legion of lady cousins all relied on him to partner them on their expeditions to the milliner’s, and he had perfected the roles of favorite nephew and devoted cousin.
The varlet.“I suppose even your perspective might occasionally bear a passing resemblance to useful.”
“Talk to your mother, Emory.Don’t lecture her, humor her, or interrupt her.Talk to her.”
Must I?But yes, he must.A woman in a pink cloak hurried down the street at the side of the square, and Thaddeus nearly sprinted after her.The shade wasn’t quite ugly enough to be Lady Edith’s cloak, but London held a plethora of pink cloaks when a man never wanted to see one again.
Or when he dreamed about them every night.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Thaddeus said, “on the off chance that your suggestion has a scintilla of merit, I must consult with my mother.”
He would have parted from Elsmore on that note, but Elsmore’s hand on his arm stopped him.“If it’s any consolation, my mother and sisters adored Lady Edith.She’s either the best confidence trickster in Mayfair, or the instincts that prod you to exonerate her are to be trusted.I liked her, and while I am uniformly pleasant to all in my ambit, I don’t permit myself to actuallyliketoo many of the unattached ladies.”
Because a duke’s liking was easily misconstrued, and yet, Thaddeus liked Lady Edith too—or had liked her, and then much more than liked her.
“My thanks for your sage advice,” Thaddeus said.“Regards to your family.”
“Likewise.”Elsmore strode off in the direction of the squabbling boys, whom he would all doubtless treat to an ice.The damned man was a curious sort of duke, but he was a more than dear friend.
Thaddeus quit the square at a fast march, before another pink cloak or outlandish bonnet could distract him from his next challenge.
Chapter Seven
“A titled fool is Cupid’s favorite target.”
FromHow to Ruin a Duke, by Anonymous
“Mama, might I have a few minutes of your time?”
The duchess slowly put down her book as if a distant strain of music had caught her ear.“A moment, please.”She rose from her chaise and went to the window.“I see neither a falling sky nor winged swine, and yet, a miracle has occurred.His Grace of Emory is askingmefor a moment ofmytime rather than the converse.”
She crossed the room to take Thaddeus’s hand and place it on her brow.“Am I feverish?Perhaps dementia is to strike me down at a tragically young age.Or maybe my hearing is failing.Tell me the truth, Emory.Did you or did you not just ask for a few minutes of my time?”
“I did, and the matter is of some import.”
She returned to her chaise and took up her book.“All of your matters are of some import—to you.If you’re thinking of offering for that hopeless Blessington girl, please spare me the discussion.She’ll make you miserable, and the only person in this household permitted to dabble in misery is myself.”
Thaddeus sat on the end of her couch.“Areyou miserable?”He’d recently realized that one could be miserable amid abundance or one could be content with little.A few irises in a jar brought just as much joy as the two dozen roses purchased to bloom on Mama’s writing desk.The trick was to notice both, to appreciate them.
“No, I am not miserable,” Mama replied, smiling faintly.“Emory, are you well?This business with that dreadful book has affected your humors.”
“I am in good health, but troubled.Did you writeHow to Ruin a Duke, Mama?”
She turned a page.“I am in good health as well, thank you very much.”She kept up the pretense of reading for another half a minute.“No, I did not write that book.As far as I can tell, none of your uncles or aunts did either.Antigone hasn’t the self-discipline to write a whole volume, and Cousin Anstruther hasn’t the wit.”
