Haskell spared a quick glance at Anthea, as if surprised to find her there, and color rose on the back of his neck.

  “I will leave you to your arrangements, Alexander,” Anthea said, rising to her feet. “Godspeed to you, for I’m certain you’ll be gone before I rise in the morning.” She kissed Alexander’s cheeks then left, barely sparing Rupert a glance.

  Rupert looked after her with an unmistakable yearning in his gaze, at least until Alexander cleared his throat. The other man then closed the door. “Where?” he asked, mouthing the word more than saying it aloud.

  “Cornwall,” Alexander said, replying in kind.

  Rupert crossed the room and noted the letter on Alexander’s desk. He smiled. “Your aunt?”

  “Just as planned.”

  “The full rig?” Rupert asked, referring to Alexander’s disguise.

  Alexander sighed and nodded, then sat at his desk to respond to his aunt.

  “Thank goodness those salmon and lemon striped trousers were delivered before we left London,” Rupert said more loudly. “You’ll be quite the sight, Your Grace.”

  Alexander gave Rupert a poisonous glance, knowing that his valet enjoyed his flamboyant clothing a little too much. “There will be stealthy work to be done, as well,” he said in an undertone. “Bring the black, and my favorite boots, too.”

  “You could just stay home, or leave it to another.”

  Alexander impaled him with a look for the very suggestion. “My chase. My kill.”

  “I know.” Rupert smiled then bowed. He raised his voice. “I shall see the portmanteau packed immediately, Your Grace, and be prepared to leave at dawn.”

  “Excellent, Haskell.”

  The other man left the library, admitting a cool draft that made Alexander think of cold carriages, draughty taverns and stone castles in Cornwall cold enough to freeze a man’s marrow. If he had a wife, he’d have warmth in his bed, to be sure.

  But if he had a wife, he’d have a wealth of other problems.

  Like having a wife. It was one thing to be less than completely honest with Anthea, but he doubted he could hide the truth of his profession from a wife.

  And that meant he would have to completely trust the woman he married. Given his experience with feminine deception, Alexander thought that unlikely to occur soon.

  Still, Anthea’s proposed wager was her first sign of interest in marriage in years. He removed the seed and rolled it between his finger and thumb, considering.

  It could not hurt to try again. He didn’t imagine for a moment that the old stories were true, but Anthea would expect him to make a report upon his return. Perhaps if he tried, even if the seed failed, that would be sufficient to coax her back to London for the season.

  It was more than worth a try.

  That prospect put a smile on his lips. He lifted his quill and dipped it into the ink, thinking of how best to use their established code.

  My dear Aunt Penelope—

  What a delight to arrive home and find your letter already awaiting me here. It appears the post does not dally as I do! And such news! You make me yearn again for London. I regret that I will not be back in Town soon, for my doctor, the excellent Dr. MacEwan, has insisted that I take the sea air in Cornwall this month. He recommends ten thousand deep breaths a day—ten thousand!—and I heartily doubt that will leave me sufficient time to pen you a single line...

  Chapter 1

  “I wish we could go faster,” Daphne complained, looking out the carriage window yet again. “Why are the horses so slow? We should have reached the next tavern by now!”

  Her younger sister, Eurydice, who was so oblivious to the marvels of the fashionable world that Daphne sometimes doubted they were truly siblings, looked up from her book. “Getting to Castle Keyvnor sooner won’t get us to London sooner. May is months away.”

  “But we’ll be in London for the new year,” Daphne replied, impatient to begin the adventure of her coming-out season. Her sister didn’t know that Daphne had made a wish on Stir-Up Sunday, a wish that by Christmas a year from now, she would be married to a rich duke. The further they rode from North Barrows, the greater the likelihood of there being a duke in the vicinity.

  London would be thick with them.

  “I can happily delay the expense of our upcoming venture,” her grandmother said with some acidity. Octavia Goodenham, the dowager Viscountess of North Barrows, raised a hand when Daphne’s alarm must have shown. “You’ll have your season, my dear, then Eurydice will have hers as well. A promise made is a promise kept.”

  Nelson, their grandmother’s maid, nodded and smiled primly at the supreme good sense of her employer. Jenny, the maid for the girls, watched and listened as always she did. The five women were packed into the carriage, for the weather was a foul mix of rain and wet snow, and Grandmaman refused to let Nelson or Jenny ride outside. Daphne sat beside her grandmother on the bench that faced forward, while Eurydice was opposite her. Nelson had the window opposite Daphne’s grandmother, and Jenny was wedged between Eurydice and Nelson. The young maid was sniffling and shivered at intervals, which was why she’d been given the warmer place in the middle.

  “I would rather go to the Continent and save you the expense of a season, Grandmaman,” Eurydice said. “For there are fine museums there, and I would prefer to visit them than find a husband.”

  “A husband will do you more good in the end than a glimpse of a statue,” their grandmother retorted. “If he is chosen well.”

  “I will have a duke, Grandmaman,” Daphne said. To wed well, preferably to a wealthy duke, had been her ambition since the death of their parents. She ignored how Eurydice snorted. Her sister thought it was a vain and silly goal, but Daphne had sound reasons for her scheme. Eurydice didn’t remember very much of events after they had news of their parents’ death, but Daphne still had nightmares about those days of uncertainty. “You need not fear for my future.”

  Nor would she have to worry about Eurydice’s future. Daphne would take care of her sister forever.

  “You might be right,” the dowager replied. “You are pretty enough to tempt a man’s eye, that is for certain.”

  “If Daphne becomes that rich, then I won’t have to marry at all,” Eurydice said, as if she had guessed Daphne’s secret scheme. “I could become a governess, like Sophia.” She referred to Sophia Brisbane who had left their service after winning the affections of Lucien de Roye at Castle Keyvnor just months before.

  Their grandmother straightened and fixed Eurydice with a glare. “You. Will. Do. No. Such. Thing.”

  “But, surely it matters what I desire...”

  Daphne looked out the window to hide her smile, for she knew that Eurydice could not win this argument, at least not while Grandmaman drew breath. After that, if Daphne succeeded, her very clever sister would be able to make her own choices, however unconventional they might be.

  She had to wed a duke.

  A rich duke.

  Surely her wish on the Christmas pudding could only help?

  “Surely not!” Grandmaman said to Eurydice. “You will desire what you are told to desire, which can only be an affluent husband. After that, you may appeal to him to decide what you are permitted to desire. The matter will be out of my hands.”

  Eurydice looked as if she might argue that, but Daphne kicked her, hiding the move beneath her skirts. She couldn’t bear if they argued all the way to Cornwall. Eurydice’s lips tightened but she fell silent.

  Grandmaman shook her head. “Though all this racing about may end my days.” She appealed to Nelson. “We only just returned to North Barrows and caught our breath, and now it’s back to Castle Keyvnor again.”

  “Indeed, my lady,” agreed the maid.

  Jenny nodded, though she had not been with them on the last journey.

  “And not to celebrate Christmas at home.” Grandmaman sighed. “It does test one’s patience.”

  “But it might be quite lovely and festive, my lady,” Nelson dared to suggest.

  “A Christmas wedding is so romantic, never mind a double wedding,” Daphne agreed. “What do you think the brides will wear?”

  “Does it matter?” Eurydice asked.

  “Of course, it matters! When I marry my duke, I will wear a dress the color of champagne,” Daphne said. She closed her eyes, perfectly able to see herself in the dress in question. It greatly resembled one she had seen amongst the fashion plates at her grandmother’s dressmaker, a confection of silk and lace that had haunted her imagination ever since.

  “You’ll be all yellow then with your blonde hair,” Eurydice said. “I will wear red when I marry.”

  “You will not!” Grandmaman declared. “If it’s not the rushing about that finishes me, it will be the pair of you!”

  “You will survive us all, Grandmaman,” Daphne said soothingly.

  Her grandmother harrumphed and rapped her umbrella on the floor of the carriage. “I will see you both married at the very least, though it may be the last deed I do.”

  “Let us not hope for that, my lady,” Nelson said with vigor. “I’m certain you would like to see each of the girls deliver their first son.”

  “You are right, of course, Nelson.” Grandmaman nodded with resolve. “Clearly, I shall have to live a good deal longer.” Her eyes flashed. “But I will faint with hunger if we don’t reach the next tavern soon.” She tapped her umbrella on the roof and roared with a vigor that indicated her demise could not be imminent. “Thompson! Why do we proceed so slowly?”

  Daphne wondered whether the driver would pretend that he hadn’t heard her grandmother. He would have to have been deaf to have missed that shout. She wiped the condensation from the inside of the window and peered out into the rain. The carriage leaned as they took a corner, and she caught a glimpse of the road ahead.

  She gasped, then polished the window a little more to get a better look. “There’s a coach and four ahead of us, with an insignia on the door.” All of the occupants of the carriage straightened a little at the prospect of a diversion. Even Eurydice looked up from her book. Unfortunately, the road had straightened and they had completed the turn, so one glimpse was all Daphne would have.

  “Who is it?” Eurydice asked.

  “I don’t know, but there are six black horses pulling the carriage!”

  “Six. And the coach?” Grandmaman demanded.

  “Very large. Black, as well, with gold trim. It seemed to have flourishes of gold upon the doors.”

  Her grandmother inhaled. “How many footmen?”

  “Two on the back, Grandmaman, plus the driver and one other.”

  The dowager nodded and narrowed her eyes as she peered through the glass. “I know that coach. There cannot be another so fine as far north as this.”

  “Whose is it?” Daphne demanded.

  “It was made in France for the Duke of Inverfyre when I was a young bride.”

  There was a duke in close proximity?

  Daphne was delighted.

  Her grandmother continued. “I remember the old duke bringing it home. Oh, he made certain every soul saw it between Portsmouth and Airdfinnan, including your grandfather and me.” She nodded. “It was quite marvelous. I wonder how well it has been maintained.”

  Daphne sat back in defeat. A duke her grandmother considered to be old must be ancient indeed. Eurydice grinned, for she had undoubtedly guessed her sister’s dashed hopes, and Daphne longed to jab her. She had to ask. “The duke is old, then?”

  “Old?” her grandmother echoed. “He’s dead. His grandson inherited the title, for the old duke’s son died before him.”

  “How long has the new duke been married?” Eurydice asked.

  “He isn’t,” Grandmaman admitted and Daphne smiled, her hopes restored. “He’s quite eligible, at least on paper, but he’s not married.”

  On paper?

  “I don’t understand,” Daphne said when no one else spoke.

  Grandmaman smiled and patted Daphne on the knee. “It means, my dear, that I don’t recall his name being linked romantically with that of any woman.”

  Daphne sensed that her grandmother meant more than she was saying, but she couldn’t imagine what it might be. “Then he hasn’t found true love yet?”

  Grandmaman laughed. “If he has, it won’t be with a woman.”

  This made no sense to Daphne at all.

  To her relief, Eurydice seemed to be similarly mystified, so for once, she wasn’t the last one to figure something out.

  “And a great shame it is, to be sure. The family are most affluent. There is a decided aversion to gambling in the Armstrong line, matched with a good fortune with investments that is almost unholy.” Grandmaman twirled her cane. “It is said that this duke’s fortune is one of the greatest in all of England. Pity about his preferences. If his sister does not marry, that great lineage might come to an end.”

  Preferences? Daphne and Eurydice exchanged a glance of confusion.

  The carriage slowed and turned, and they heard Thompson whistle.

  “Ah, here we are,” Grandmaman declared with a decisive tap of her umbrella. “And not a moment too soon, for I am ravenous.” The door was opened and one of the footmen put down the stool for the dowager viscountess. Another held an umbrella high so she wouldn’t have to use her own for the short walk to the tavern. “Ah!” she declared as she alighted. “You will soon see what I mean, my dears. The duke is also taking refreshment here. I shall remind him of our family’s acquaintance.”

  Daphne squeezed Eurydice’s fingers with delight, then emerged from the carriage herself, her heart thundering.

  She should have made a wish sooner.

  She stared in shock at the man speaking to her grandmother near the doorway to the tavern. He smiled and bowed over Lady North Barrow’s hand, his manners impeccable and his clothing so garish that Daphne didn’t know what to say or do.

  Eurydice gave her a hard nudge from behind. “Move, you goose,” she muttered. “We can’t get out because of you and it’s freezing cold.”

  Daphne took a few steps, still startled to silence.

  A moment later, Eurydice halted beside her. “Oh!” she said, apparently similarly astonished.

  Grandmaman raised a hand to beckon to them, and the duke turned to survey them with polite curiosity. His waistcoat was a splendid and hideous garment, made of a vivid blue cloth thick with gold embroidery. Eurydice said something through her teeth, but Daphne ignored her. The duke raised his quizzing glance and peered at them, blinking as if he had trouble with his vision. There was no difficulty with his appetite, for he had a considerable paunch. His cheeks were fat, but his legs were surprisingly trim.

  And he was a duke.

  “Oh,” Daphne agreed, then tried to be gracious. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen that shade of apricot used with such enthusiasm in a man’s garments before.”

  “It’s orange,” said Eurydice.

  “No, I’m certain he calls it abricot.”

  “You don’t have to say it French!”

  “I think I do,” Daphne mused.

  “And with green.” Eurydice grimaced.

  “Chartreuse,” Daphne corrected, for she saw definite possibilities in her near future.

  “The blue is a horrifying addition.”

  “Azure,” Daphne said, then smiled at the duke. He took a closer look. She was glad to be wearing a new dress in the shade of pink that flattered her coloring so well.

  “He’s wearing more rouge than Grandmaman,” Eurydice whispered wickedly, but Daphne ignored her. Her sister surveyed her and her eyes widened in horror. “You wouldn’t.”

  “He’s a duke,” Daphne said mildly, then met her sister’s gaze. “Me first.”

  Eurydice laughed. “You needn’t fear any competition from me in pursuit of that silly fop. Look at him! He’s a joke from head to toe!”

  Daphne smiled. There were no other unwed aristocrats in the vicinity, nor were there likely to be any. She had no competition at all and might very well save her grandmother the expense of a season in London.

  For a duke.

  Daphne couldn’t have cared less how he dressed. His finery was expensive, which meant her grandmother was right about his finances.

  He did have fine legs and he was tall.

  This was her chance. She crossed the yard with her chin high and her skirts gathered in one hand. Her steps were quick and delicate, as if she joined a dance, and in a way, she did. A thrill of anticipation coursed through her as she wondered just how well—and how quickly—she could charm him. Oh, there was no deceit in Daphne. She meant to make whatever duke she won a most delightful and attentive wife.

  The duke lifted his glass a little higher to watch her approach.

  Daphne wasn’t so innocent that she didn’t notice the glimmer of interest in his very blue eyes as she curtseyed before him.

  What a beauty!

  Alexander savored the sight of Lady North Barrow’s granddaughter as she came tripping toward him, her lifted skirt hem granting him a glance of her neat ankles, and her cheeks a little flushed. Her hair was like spun gold and her eyes shone with what appeared to be good nature. Her dark green cloak parted as she walked, giving him a glimpse of her figure. She was slim through the waist and hips but curved sufficiently to invite a man’s caress. That deep green of her cloak made her eyes appear to be a deeper hue than they were. The pink of her dress became her very well and she put him in mind of apple blossoms in the spring. Though she was fair, her lashes and brows were dark, and her lips were both sweetly full and ruddy.

  Alexander was certain that he hadn’t seen such a splendid beauty in years.

  When she smiled at him, he was reminded of exactly how long he had been celibate.

  And he completely forgot why.

  Indeed, he found himself recalling Anthea’s challenge and almost fingered the small seed in his pocket.

  Lady North Barrows made curt introductions, as was her way. He hadn’t seen her since Anthea’s season, but she hadn’t changed much. Miss Goodenham’s lashes fluttered as she curtseyed before him. He caught a glimpse of creamy cleavage, then she met his gaze and blushed prettily.

 

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