Page 10 of A Fake Courtship with the Duke
“A few too many spirits last night, milord?” he quipped.
Richard chuckled.
“Not quite enough, I’m afraid,” he said.
Watson joined in the soft laughter.
“I can imagine your mother would be most thrilled with an inebriated duke first thing in the morning,” he said.
Richard shrugged.
“She can add that to the list of things I do that displease her, I suppose,” he said.
Watson laughed more heartily. Then, he set to work, quickly dressing his master. When he was finished, Richard ran a hand through his hair haphazardly, fetching a blue top hat from the rack behind the door to his chambers. He placed the hat atop his head, not caring to bother with the routine of combing and styling his hair.
Watson frowned, shaking his head.
“The intricacies that manifest in your hair are sufficient to occupy an entire day,” he said dryly.
Richard chuckled once more.
“I shall brush them out for you, Watson,” he said. “For now, I must go see what Mother wants.”
Watson bowed, whisking himself to the door to open it for his master.
“I’m only a summons away, milord,” he said, sounding playfully less than enthusiastic at the prospect of Richard calling for him again.
Richard smirked and nodded.
“You needn’t worry,” he said. “I expect to leave immediately after breakfast this morning.”
With that, Richard took a deep breath, practicing the same bland expression he had been learning to perfect whenever his mother spoke of marriage. He descended the stairs between the third and second floors, and then the grand staircase that led out into the grand hall of Calder Manor. It was oddly silent, as he was accustomed to hearing chatter coming from the drawing room during breakfast. Coupled with his mother’s intentional summons for him before he had awoken, he couldn’t help thinking that something was amiss.
As Richard entered the drawing room, he was immediately stricken by a heavy, suffocating cloud of invisible tension that hung in the air. Susan looked notably distressed, her brow furrowed as she looked at her brother. His mother sat in a high-backed chair, her gaze fixed upon the newspaper, which lay splayed out in front of her on the table.
With a quick glance, Richard noticed that it was open to the latest edition of the scandal sheets, and that his mother was studying it with a look of concentrated distaste. He had no idea what would have so heavily earned her disapproval. But he was certain that it was of no consequence to him. Still, he had the distinct that it was about to become something into which he was dragged. He took his seat, settling in for what was to come.
“Good morning,” he said, trying to sound as though he wasn’t aware of the strained atmosphere in the room.
Adelaide Stratford looked up from the newspaper with a sigh.
“Richard, my dear,” she said, her tone stern. “Forgive my distractedness. I was just reading about Miss Anne Huxley’s escapade at the ball last night.”
Richard frowned, thinking back to the ball. He had attended with his mother and sister, but he couldn’t recall any incident that was noteworthy. Of course, not long after the ball began, he had slipped outside into the gardens, opting to hide away from the party. He couldn’t tell his mother that, however. Instead, he gave her a vague smile.
“Oh?” he asked. “What do the scandal sheets have to say about it?”
His mother didn’t seem to notice his ignorance. She shook her head, lifting the paper idly before letting it fall back down onto the table.
“Throwing wine in the face of a gentleman who undoubtedly merely went to ask her for a dance,” she said, clucking her tongue. “The scandal sheets rightfully expose her for being the scandalous, unladylike human being she is. It is no wonder the lady is still unmarried after two full seasons since her debut.”
Richard bit his tongue, trying not to laugh. He had to admit that the image of a ton lady throwing wine on a stuffy gentleman was entertaining to him. Part of him wished that he hadn’t absconded from the ball. He thought that would have been a nice change from the predictable sequence of the stages of a typical ton party.
“Mother,” Susan said, almost pleading. “I really think the paper is blowing things all out of proportion. I know Anne very well, and I do not think she would do such a thing if not for a very good reason.”
Richard looked at his sister, surprised at her for standing up to their mother. He knew Miss Huxley and she were good friends. But Susan had never been one for disobedience whenit came to their mother. He watched, waiting to see what the dowager duchess would say to her defiant daughter.
The dowager merely sighed, pointing to the paper with another click of her tongue.
