Page 100 of Undercover Duke
A laugh burst out of Cass. “You are quite an outrageous lady, aren’t you?”
“I try. Why do you think Saint Sheridan married me? He needs someone to poke holes in his halo on occasion.” Vanessa paused in her work to examine her map of the house. “Now I have to move other people around. Did your aunt and your cousin come? I was planning to put Lady Hornsby in this darling little suite in the east wing, but with her changing rooms it would be perfect forthem, although I would swear it hadn’t been cleaned in years, until yesterday.”
“No, they couldn’t attend.” Cass shook her head. “Kitty is throwing a party of her own in London, and I shudder to think how it will turn out. She’s not . . . adept at these things like you and I.”
“We’re here!” a cheery voice sounded behind her. “Unfashionably early, of course, but we thought we could help.”
Vanessa jumped up and whirled around. “Gwyn! No one told me you were coming. You just had twins—what are you doing traveling? And Beatrice! You’re here!” She threw her arms about them both. “I can’t believe you came!” Then she pulled back to frown at them. “You shouldn’t have come. Are you certain you’re both up to it?”
“Do you really think we would miss your big affair?” Beatrice said. “Not on your life. Besides, our husbands have been driving us mad worrying about our health. I am tired of drinking possets. I can’t wait to have some of the estate perry you brew up so well.”
“I don’t brew it up,” Vanessa said dryly, “although from the way Sheridan extols its virtues, you’d think he squeezed the pears himself.”
“What’s wrong with a good posset?” Cass said. “I like possets myself. We received a posset set for our wedding, and our cook uses it quite a bit.”
“If I want medicine, I’ll take medicine,” Gwyn said, “and if I want an alcoholic beverage or dessert, I’ll drink some wine or eat a syllabub. I do not want my medicine and beverages combined.”
“And while I don’t have Gwyn’s objection to them, I don’t want a posset every day, twice a day, trust me.” Beatrice took a deep breath. “It’s so lovely to be home again. Or as close to home as I’ve been in a while. Have you decided what to do about the dower house? Grey is happy to do whatever you and Sheridan need.”
“I think the dowager duchess is actually going to live there.” Vanessa smiled. “Which is wonderful because that means she’ll be nearby. Of course, my uncle might end up having a say in that. . . .”
“That would be wonderful. I like your uncle.” Gwyn scanned the drawing room. “Where’s Olivia?”
Vanessa laughed. “She’s probably off somewhere trying to turn perry into wine or using ink and sulfuric acid to melt iron. Heaven only knows. That woman loves doing her experiments, and since she and Thorn arrived yesterday, she’s probably already in the midst of one.”
“Well,” Gwyn said confidentially, “we brought her a gift.”
“What sort of gift?” Cass asked.
“You’ll find out when Joshua and I give it to her,” Gwyn said. “What’s this you’re working on? Can we help?”
“I would certainly welcome help from all of you,” Vanessa said. “I’ve been making kissing boughs for all the halls and parlors and the dining room and the breakfast room. I still have about ten left to put together.”
“Good Lord, that’s a great many kissing boughs.” Beatrice took a seat beside Vanessa and picked up a piece of ribbon. “But I do enjoy making them.”
“It sounds like fun.” Gwyn took a seat on the other side of the table next to where Cass had been working earlier. “But I’ve never done one, so you’ll have to show me how. And where are the men, anyway? I wish to see my brothers, the scamps who haven’t written me a single letter since last I saw them.”
“They’re staying out of the way,” Vanessa said, “like the clever men know to do.”
The women all laughed.
“They should be coming in any minute now,” Cass said and joined them at the table. “They’re off shooting partridges. They do love their guns.”
“And their partridges,” Beatrice said. “Or at least Joshua always did. You have no idea how many partridges I have picked shot out of for my brother. That is definitely one advantage to marrying a duke.”
“Fortunately,” Gwyn said, “I donothave to pick shot out of partridges for Joshua. My husband knows better than to ask.”
“I would hate picking shot out of anything,” Vanessa said hoarsely. “It was bad enough just to witness Mr. Bonham being shot with a pistol.”
Gwyn put an arm around her and squeezed. “I completely understand since I witnessed that dreadful fellow Lionel being shot, too.” She grimaced. “Although honestly I would have preferred shooting him myself after what he put me through.”
“Not to mention what he put my brother through,” Beatrice said. “Getting back to Mr. Bonham, how is our mother-in-law faring? At some point, we all thought she might marry the arse.”
“Beatrice!” Cass said, shocked at her use of the wordarse.
“What? Don’t tell me you haven’t wanted to use that word in reference to him at least once in the past month.”
“Well . . .” Cass said.
