Page 61 of The Truth About Dukes
“He’s not her uncle,” Stephen said. “He’s a fellow she doesn’t obey willingly who’s intent on dragging her off to Australia, where they have deadly spiders, snakes, crocodiles, fish that can eat a man whole, and foul miasmas by the dozen. If anything happens to Ivy’s so-called uncle, what will become of her in such a place?”
Miss Abbott met Stephen’s gaze, and he realized what had been bothering him about her—besides her confidence, brains, and air of iron resolution. She waspretty, beautiful even, though all her stomping about and thumping her walking stick, as well as her drab clothing and a severe bun, were intended to hide her looks. She was bloodstock trying to impersonate a mule, and mostly succeeding.
“Ivy is pretty, isn’t she?” Stephen asked, quietly.
“Lovely,” Miss Abbott replied in equally soft tones. “Has the most gorgeous red hair, and she’s nearly taller than her uncle. Men hate that. Some men.”
“A pretty girl,” Stephen mused, “fourteen years old or nearly so, on her own in Australia, where she never wanted to be, where she neverhadto be…Anything you can tell us, Miss Abbott,anything, would be appreciated.”
She looked around the room, taking in Althea and Nathaniel practically sitting in each other’s laps on the sofa, and Quinn and Jane, equally connected but more dignified about their relationship, and then Stephen, alone in a reading chair, and—as always—clutching his cane.
“I can tell you this,” Miss Abbott said. “Whitlock Shaw has no congregation here in England because he does not get on well with the bishops.”
“Does he have a temper?” Quinn asked, seeking information any Wentworth needed to know about any parental authority figure.
“Not a temper, so much as convictions, Your Grace. Mr. Shaw detests everything high church. He blames the Church of England’s corruption and greed for the rise of Methodism and dissenters of every stripe. He had a pulpit down near Manchester, but he fell out with the earl who held the living. The earl wanted to replace a plain window with stained glass, and Mr. Shaw refused. The dispute escalated, and Mr. Shaw was succeeded by a vicar willing to glorify God’s house with man-made beauty.”
“He lost his job over a window?” Jane sounded dismayed rather than impressed.
“Over a principle,” Stephen said. “I take it that experience has left the reverend intolerant of aristocrats?”
“Exactly, my lord. Mr. Shaw has been heard to say that the colonies are the only hope for salvation on earth because they tend to be less infested with lords, bishops, and other moral pestilences. He believes the aristocracy embodies the deadly sins and all that’s wrong with Britain.”
“He’s not entirely wrong,” Quinn said.
“While you are entirely a duke, Your Grace,” Miss Abbott replied, gently. “LadyConstance is marrying another duke. Had you been millers, yeoman, engravers, or teachers, Mr. Shaw would view you more favorably, according to what I know of him. As it is, the last people he’s likely to allow near Ivy are a bunch of wealthy, titled strangers.”
“Then we will be family rather than strangers,” Jane said. “My father is clergy. His congregation is out in the West Riding. Surely that will mean something to Mr. Shaw?”
“I don’t know, Your Grace. If your father supports the church’s traditional thinking, it might be yet another strike against the Wentworths.”
“Have you told Constance and Rothhaven what you’re telling us now?” Stephen asked.
“Not yet, but I will. His Grace expressed a willingness to fund Mr. Shaw’s ambitions, and I don’t think that approach well advised.”
Nathaniel rose, extending a hand to Althea. “Then Mr. Shaw is an idiot. My brother is obnoxiously wealthy. Shaw could build the first cathedral in the whole of Australia with Rothhaven’s pocket change.”
Althea took Nathaniel’s hand and stood as well, though she’d been getting to her feet unassisted for as long as Stephen could recall.
“I don’t think this Mr. Shaw sets much store by cathedrals, my lord,” Althea observed.
They remained hand in hand, close enough to embrace. “He sets store by something,” Nathaniel said. “We just have to deduce what it is.”
They left, heads close together, apparently intent on further discussions of a private nature. Quinn and Jane withdrew on assurances that they would consider what Miss Abbott had imparted, and do anything in their power to aid Constance’s objectives.
Leaving Stephen alone, unchaperoned with a relatively young, unmarried female who looked anything but pleased at the prospect of bearing him company.
“I am harmless,” he said, gesturing with his cane. “They mean you no disrespect by leaving you here with me. The door will remain open at all times. You have only to holler for a footman or tug the bell pull should I teeter menacingly in your direction.”
He didn’t bother with a charming smile. Miss Abbott would cosh him on general principles should he be so foolish.
“That is a handsome sword cane,” she said, glancing at the door. “Might I examine it more closely, my lord?”
Oh, she was a dear when she was trying to come across all hesitant and respectful. “I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours,” Stephen said, holding out his cane.
She rose, closed the door, and traded him her sword cane for his.
Chapter Fourteen
