Page 68 of Lady Graceless
Lord Dashlend appeared rather stricken himself, but then she could well guess the cause. The gentleman had not yet had time to apologize for the misdirected flowers. He would not like anything close to the subject mentioned.
“Well now,” the duke said, “I will escort my daughter into the ballroom.”
It was said very abruptly, and Grace understood her father had reason to pull her away. She curtsied and took his arm.
Once they were away, the duke said, “I do not like what I just heard. Lady Margaret seems to hint that Montclave means to declare himself.”
Grace wrinkled her brow. That had not been her guess at all.
“If she were talking about Dashlend and Lady Lavender,” the duke went on, “I do not believe she would have said it in our hearing. We’ve no connection to that business.”
That might well be true. She had not thought of it that way.
“Grace, under no circumstance accept that fellow.”
“I have no intention of it, Papa,” Grace said, finding the idea faintly repugnant.
The duke nodded. “Excellent. I only warn you off as you would not be the first lady to rashly accept someone after receiving a disappointment, and then lived to regret it. The moment can be satisfying, but the years are long.”
“You are always full of good sense, Papa.”
“Am I? Well, let us see if you can convince my sister of that fact. She sails toward us like a sloop on the downwind.”
Indeed, Lady Marchfield was headed right for them. Grace had not seen her since Mr. Button had been removed from the house. They had exchanged several letters and Grace remained on good terms with the lady. Her father, however, remained on the same terms with his sister as always, which were never good.
“It is the talk everywhere, Roland. I heard it from my lady’s maid, who heard it from several servants of different houses. I hope you are satisfied with yourself.”
Grace had not the first idea what she referred to. The duke said, “Iamgenerally satisfied with myself, as I do not factor your opinion into the equation. What this latest bee in your bonnet is, I do not know or care.”
“You most certainly do know. It is said that cartfuls of hateful flowers and plants were delivered to Lord Dashlend—Columbine, Marigolds, Thistle, Rhododendron, and I do not know what else. All hateful. Do you deny it?”
“I deny there were cartfuls,” the duke said. “There was one cart, but then people do exaggerate. Very eccentric of them, I always think.”
Grace’s eyes widened just a bit. From her father’s prior hints, she knew he’d done something. She’d presumed it had come to nothing since he’d not said anything further about it.
“And then, going so far as to meddle with the staff! Why should you make the poor valet believe he was being dismissed?”
The duke laughed. “That, I know nothing about. It sounds like the sort of thing Mrs. Right might manage, though.”
“That ridiculous housekeeper!” Lady Marchfield said. “I suppose she sent the threatening note too? She accuses Lord Dashlend of being a terrible person and wishes he comes to a bad end? How dare that woman send such a note to a person above her station?”
“Oh, Aunt, that might have been Valor,” Grace said, entirely convinced that it had been. She’d told Valor not to write a letter and her sister had an instant look of guilt and run from the room. As well, Valor had wished Mr. Stratton to come to a bad end too. It seemed to be becoming a habit.
“Valor?” Lady Marchfield said, looking aghast. “Roland, you go so far as to allow your youngest daughter to fire off letters wherever and to whomever she pleases?”
“How should I know what she gets up to?” the duke said.
“That is the point. You ought to know. So far, nobody seems to know you are at the bottom of all this, though I guessed it quick enough. I do not understand what you have been about. Lord Dashlend is a respectable man and has seemed to express an interest in Grace. Why on earth would you ruin it for her?”
Of course, her aunt could not know there was nothing to ruin.
The duke’s visage darkened. “Look here, Lady Misery, I have told you time and again to stop your attempts to meddle with me and mine. Be off now and take that sour face with you.”
Lady Marchfield, seeming to understand she would get nowhere with her brother, let out a disgusted sigh. “Have a care, Grace, that your lunatic father does not steer you to disaster.”
She turned on her heel and marched off.
The duke quietly laughed. “Valor sent him one of her condemning notes. Unsigned, it sounds like. I should have known Mrs. Right would get up to something original—that valet of Dashlend’s has the constitution of a newborn chick.”
