Page 33 of Seductive Reprise
“Well, that aside, you’ve not been home in years. Sit down, sit down.” Marbury remained seated, waving his frail hand in admonishment. “Stay for dinner. Heaven knows I could do with company beyond Sir David,” he added, shaking his head.
Egad, how long had his father endured Sir David and his tasteless humor? Yusef almost took pity on the man and relented. Almost.
“No, I don’t think I shall.” He tapped his walking stick on the floor. “But there is one more thing.”
The Duke of Marbury sighed and stood as well, hands clasped behind his back. “Yes, Palgrave?”
“Do you recall Ipsley’s daughter?”
“Daughter?” The duke’s brows knit in confusion. “He’s only got the one—ah.” He paused, and looked at Yusef curiously. “You mean the girl, the one from the coaching inn? The Bridle or what have you? The one with the drawings?”
“Exactly the one.”
“Ipsley’s natural-born daughter,” he said, almost to himself. He looked back at Yusef. “Well, what of her?”
“I thought you might want to know.” Yusef glanced at his cufflinks, their emeralds and diamonds gleaming. He didn’t actually care for the snakes, he realized. He’d have to have something else made up. In the meanwhile he’d instruct Mann to leave these in the box. He looked back up at his father.
“I intend to marry her.”
The duke stared at him as if he’d gone mad, though he recovered quickly, managing to put on a canny sort of expression.
Yusef steeled himself.
“So she’s accepted, then?”
“I haven’t asked her yet.”
“Ah.” The duke crossed his arms, thinking. “And you’ve settled upon her?”
“Yes.” Yusef narrowed his eyes.
“I only ask because there are a number of—”
“No one else will do.”
“But now that you’ve set a mind to marry—”
“To marryher.” Yusef lifted his walking stick, holding it across his front as if it were a rapier. “And as I’ve nothing to protect, I see no need to concern myself with the breeding of an heir. Wouldn’t you agree, Your Grace?” He found himself slipping back into a surly tone near the end of his words. He regretted it, but he refused to apologize.
The duke studied him without expression. Finally, he nodded. “Of course.”
It felt as close to an apology as Yusef was likely to ever get.
Chapter Eleven
Mr. Hartley entered, greetinghis mother with a quick hello before focusing on Rose.
“Ah, Miss Verdier. Just the individual I was looking for.”
“Oh?” she said, one brow quirking up. Hopefully she didn’t looktoodisbelieving. Every time she’d met Mr. Hartley, something exasperating had happened. Either his mother had tried to fob her off on him in some last-ditch effort to obtain grandchildren, or he’d brought Joseph into the room with her and then made an immediate exit on the flimsiest of pretenses. She set her paintbrush down carefully, lest it roll away and make a spot on the carpet.
“Has my mother mentioned the dinner?”
She glanced sideways at Mrs. Hartley, who was preoccupied with the most recent sketch of Walter, featuring the pose she’d finally settled on.
Rose offered a strained smile. “A dinner?”
“Precisely,” he said as he wandered over toward the windows, one hand in his coat pocket. He always had a single-mindedness about him, although his speech and manner hinted at a wrysort of perpetual amusement. “Just a small gathering. A few individuals of our acquaintance. It would please us immensely if you’d attend as well. Perhaps you might even bring the portrait, so we could display it? Anyway, I leave that to you.” He dropped the curtain and turned around with a bland smile before adding, “Mama? Care to add anything?”
