“Mansfield coerced me into retrieving my trunk this afternoon. However, while we were carrying it through the foyer, Mr. Philbert’s ghost exited the parlor and noticed us. When he approached, the three of us?—”
“Three?” the Duke of Roxburghe interrupted, helping Miss Webb and Miss Fernsby-Webb from the snow.
“Mr. Northcutt witnessed the event as well,” the Duke of Warwick said, sinking back onto his seat. “We recommended that he and Mrs. Grove return with us to your house.”
The Duke of Roxburghe glowered at the Duke of Lennox. “There is a limit to my generosity.”
“Until your wedding,” the Duke of Lennox replied with a smirk, “you have no need of privacy.”
“Lennox is hosting a party this evening,” the Duke of Roxburghe announced abruptly, taking Miss Webb’s hand and bringing it to his lips. “Would you send invitations?”
“This evening? To whom?” Miss Webb asked at the same time the Duke of Lennox voiced his protest.
“To anyone,” the Duke of Roxburghe replied, ignoring the Duke of Lennox, “willing to assist with an exorcism at Lennox’s house.”
“No.” The Duke of Lennox crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll not have my life turned into a spectacle for your amusement.”
“And I’ll not share my wedding night with an audience.” Glowering, the Duke of Roxburghe folded his arms as well.
“Did you intend to expel Mansfield and Beaufort prior to that happy occasion?” The Duke of Lennox arched his eyebrows.
“A week before the ceremony.”
“And where should Mansfield and Beaufort find lodging after you cruelly displace them?”
A dark smile crossed the Duke of Roxburghe’s face. “With you. Thus, the need for an exorcism.”
“Replace Mr. Philbert with Mansfield and Beaufort…” The Duke of Lennox stroked his chin. “I’m not certain which is worse. Miss Rowe, what do you think?”
Helena started, her head whipping back and forth between both dukes. “Pardon?”
“Should I utilize Mr. Philbert’s ghost to prevent Mansfield and Beaufort from draining the last of my patience?”
Everyone turned, their eyes burrowing into her.
She chewed her lip, unsure how to respond without offending any of the men. “Will either choice affect the Duke of Warwick? His accommodation wasn’t mentioned in your question.”
“I don’t find him taxing,” the Duke of Lennox replied, winking at her.
Helena giggled, pressed her hand to her mouth, stifling the sound, and glanced at Miss Webb, who stood, eyes wide, her arm around her sister, as though she were trying desperately to communicate something.
“I believe,” Helena said, after a long minute, “that you shouldn’t allow Mr. Philbert’s ghost to drive you from your home.”
“And my intrusive friends?”
“Should return the favor of hospitality that both of you,”—she flicked her gaze to the Duke of Roxburghe—“have afforded them.”
The Duke of Beaufort collected his horse’s reins, patting the horse on its muzzle. “The distance to Mansfield’s home is over an hour by coach, and mine isn’t closer. However, I agree with your proposal. Therefore, in one month, I’ll host a week-long engagement celebration for Grisham and Roxburghe.”
He strode around the horse, wrapped the reins around the metal post, and leaned down, brushing the snow from the seat. Then he helped Miss Fernsby-Webb back into the sleigh and covered her with a blanket.
“Miss Rowe,” the Duke of Beaufort said as he stepped onto the runners, reins in hand, “since this was your suggestion, I expect your attendance during the full week.”
Snapping the whip, the Duke of Beaufort encouraged his horse into a rapid trot. He laughed, waving as the sled picked up speed.
“I’ll race you to Lennox’s house!” he yelled as they vanished into an explosion of flying snow.
“Hell!” The Duke of Roxburghe, Miss Webb in tow, raced to his sleigh.
