Page 4 of The Mistletoe Duke
As for the viscountess’s daughters, the younger one had just made her come-out, and the elder was an admirer of Christopher’s. Which absolutely disqualified her as a lady he’d be inclined to court.
Well then. Given the limited options, he’d assuage his aunt’s expectations by paying Miss Shelborne particular attention. Though he was determined nothing would come of it. No matter what the dowager duchess might think, he hardly wanted to addyet another burden to his back. Especially not a matrimonial one.
He glanced down at the final item on the list.
5. Plan Games with Prizes
Games with prizes? Not his forte, and he was tempted to leave that to Christopher. But no. His brother would no doubt suggest entirely unsuitable things, like erotic charades and drinking contests. Speaking of whom…
“Where is my brother?”
Aunt Agatha’s expression turned vaguely apologetic. “I received a letter from him only yesterday. I’m afraid his presence was required a bit longer in London. Something about a sleigh.”
Of course. The Thames had iced over enough for the annual sleigh races, which the young bucks all wagered heavily upon. If he wasn’t mistaken, Christopher participated every year. No doubt his brother would arrive at Darton at the eleventh hour to regale them all with tales of excitement upon the ice and boasts about his near wins.
“Don’t fret,” his aunt said. “I’m happy to provide my assistance in his stead.”
“What about Christopher’s inheritance?” Philip asked tightly, knowing it was in no danger. His younger brother was too charming, too ready to tell people what they wanted to hear. Christopher was a master at eeling out of trouble, leaving others to bear the consequences.
“He’s promised that next year he’ll come early and take on nearly everything,” Aunt Agatha said, sounding as though she believed it.
“Your Grace.” The butler entered the study, inclining his head to the dowager duchess. “Lady Fortnum’s coach is coming up the drive.”
Double blast. Why the devil were the guests coming so soon?
“Excellent.” Philip’s aunt turned to him and patted him on the arm. “Do endeavor to make yourself charming.”
Catherine followed her mother beneath the half-timbered portico of Darton Hall, trying not to be awed by the vast estate. They’d passed acres of bare-branched forest park, a walled garden, and an elaborate trefoil pond with a fountain in the center, quiet for the winter. She’d glimpsed a gazebo, and the ruins of an old castle on the hill behind the mansion.
The house itself, made of quarried limestone, stretched in front of manicured lawns and gardens, its three stories topped with elaborate chimneys and gabled windows. Her own family’s country manor was practically a hovel in comparison.
Still, what good were a stunning mansion and extensive grounds if one didn’t have the temperament to enjoy them?
Certainly the Duke of Darton-on-Rye didn’t, judging by the expression on the man’s face as the butler ushered them into the grand foyer. Truthfully, she’d never once seen the duke smile.
“Welcome,” the dowager duchess said, stepping forward with a gracious nod. “I’m so pleased you accepted my invitation, Lady Fortnum.”
“The pleasure is ours,” Catherine’s mother said. “Thank you for thinking of us. Allow me to present my daughters, Catherine and Abigail.”
“Your Grace,” Catherine said, dipping into a curtsey which Abigail quickly mirrored.
“Excellent.” The old lady gave them the once-over, though it seemed her gaze lingered a bit longer on Catherine. “I believe you’ve met my nephew, Lord Philip Hartness?”
“Indeed, we have,” their mother said. “Catherine and I were introduced two seasons ago to both your nephews. Though my daughter Abigail has not yet had the pleasure.”
“Miss Abigail.” The duke gave her a dismissive nod. “Welcome, all of you, to Darton Hall.”
Something about his cool manner made Catherine want to spark a reaction from the man. Besides, he’d all but snubbed her little sister with his patent disinterest. Summoning up her most winsome smile, she met his gaze.
“Thank you. I’m certain that, with your brother here as well, we shall have a merry holiday.”
“Indeed.” The duke’s eyes narrowed, and she caught a spark of temper in their blue depths. “Provided he manages to make his arrival.”
“Oh, is Lord Christopher absent?” Catherine blinked innocently, though she was inwardly gloating that she’d been able to pierce his bored façade. “I suppose we’ll have to make do until he comes. Not to give offense, of course. I’m certain you can be most droll, Your Grace.”
He gave her an affronted look, and the dowager duchess let out a cough that bordered on a chuckle.
“Be that as it may,” their hostess said. “The servants will show you up to your rooms. I suggest you freshen up for tea, which be served promptly at four-o-clock in the west parlor.”
