Page 11 of The Heiress's Daughter
“No, I’m quite serious,” he said earnestly. “You see that large red knobby nose of his? It’s because he knocks over at least two or three bottles of port or madeira a night. Ghastly fellow. Talks of nothing but wine and the meals he’s eaten. Now I come to think of it, it’s a good thing they don’t let ladies into the club. A protective measure. Saves you from frightful bores like him.”
“I suppose he’d taste quite good then,” she said thoughtfully.
He turned, startled. “What?”
“Well, he’s obviously well stuffed and thoroughly marinated.”
He laughed aloud.
A female duck launched herself onto the water as they approached. She was followed by a small flotilla of slightlyscruffy half-grown ducklings. “Ah now, that will be the wife, poor downtrodden thing,” he said.
“How do you know she’s poor and downtrodden?” Clarissa said indignantly. “She has all those beautiful babies.”
“Yes, but how long is it since she had a new dress, eh?”
Clarissa looked at the mottled brown of the duck’s feathers. “Perhaps she just likes subtle colors.”
“No, he neglects her.”
“Why did she choose him, then?” There was an undertone of seriousness beneath the nonsense and Race belatedly recalled that Leo had told him her parents had had such a marriage. He could have kicked himself.
“Oh, no doubt he was quite a handsome fellow in his younger days, and he would have wooed her with impressive gifts.”
She tilted her head and looked up at him. “What sort of gifts?”
“Slugs,” he said immediately. “Big fat juicy ones.”
She laughed. “I don’t care, I refuse to believe she’s poor and downtrodden. In any case, you don’t need fancy clothes when you’re caring for so many babies. And they’re darling—look at them.”
He watched as the little balls of fluff paddled vigorously after their mother. One fell behind and started cheeping urgently. “That will be the baby,” he said, “needy and noisy. And that one.” He pointed to a little chap ignoring his mother’s loud quacks while he investigated something in the reeds. “That little fellow is the adventurous one. He’ll give his mother no end of trouble…and probably end up breaking her heart.”
There was a short pause and Race felt her searching gaze on his face. He pretended not to notice, hoping she wouldn’t ask. Eventually she said lightly, “How do you know it’s a boy? Girls can be adventurous, too.”
“I suppose so. I just think he’s a boy.” The ducklingcheeped loudly and Race glanced at his companion. “And now I suppose you expect me to wade in, rescue the little devil—ruining my boots in the process—and determine his sex.”
“Of course I don’t. But could you—determine his or her sex, I mean?”
“I can’t but I expect a poultryman could.”
The duckling broke free of whatever had detained him and scooted across the water to join his siblings, flapping tiny wings. The duck family sailed off in a small flotilla.
“There, your boots are safe,” she said.
“My valet will be relieved. He’s very protective of my boots.”
They walked on. “Do you have many siblings?” she asked him after a moment.
“No, none.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I just thought, from the way you talked…You seemed to know a lot about children.”
He shrugged. “Ten years at boarding school.”
“Oh.” After a moment she asked, “And your parents?”
“Both dead. My mother died when I was eleven and my father a decade or so later.” He glanced at her. “And your mother?” He knew when her father had died.
“Died when I was eight.” They strolled on and silence fell between them. Race cursed himself for asking about her mother. She’d really started relaxing with him, and now…
