Page 10 of Lady Graceless
MILES HAD BORROWEDstationery from the innkeeper and fired off a letter to his butler in Town. Wainwright was ordered to bring a carriage, clothes, and money. Once he had money, he could arrange for someone to tow his boat to a port and have it repaired. He’d already arranged with the innkeeper to employ a watch at the beach so that some enterprising young sailor did not put a sail onThe Marquessaand make off with her.
As for the evening, Miles had been the slightest bit concerned that the duke was planning on sending over some of his own clothes for him to wear. It was a kind gesture, and not one he could refuse without insult, but the duke’s middle section had seen a few more bottles of port than Miles’ ever had. Or even if Miles had consumed just as much port as the duke, his younger years and habit of pursuing sports had seemed to keep its more rounding effects at bay.
Fortunately, a combination of clothes had been delivered by the duke’s valet. It would be the duke’s valet’s best coat and pants, paired with one of the duke’s shirts that had been hastily pinned to take it in, along with one of the duke’s neckcloths.
All in all, it was far better than expected.
As for Moreau, he’d also been left with some of the valet’s things. Mr. Reynolds had made clear he handed over what was “his oldest set.” Though it was “his oldest set,” Reynolds cautioned that he expected it to be returned to him in good order.
The effrontery of it had left Moreau surprisingly speechless.
Moreau had gone from swimming in the sea to swimming in the duke’s valet’s oldest set of clothes. He looked faintly ridiculous as he hung Miles’ clothes across the window to dry out. “Now you go down and have beef with the mad duke and his battalion of strange daughters while Moreau struggles on alone.”
“That sounds right,” Miles said, and left his valet to complain to himself. He jogged down the steps and made his way into the private dining room reserved for the duke.
The duke and his family, and surprisingly his housekeeper too, were already gathered. If Miles had harbored any doubts about the eccentricity of the duke, having his housekeeper at the table washed those doubts away.
“Ho there,” the duke said jovially, “here is our hapless sailor. You look a deal better now that you are dry—do not you think so, Gracie?”
Lady Grace had the sense to blush at this rather forward comment. Miles said, “I will not ask anyone to comment on my appearance, either earlier today or this moment. I pray Lady Grace has the generosity to forestall judgment until I am back in Town and appear more usually.”
“I am not certain I would judge at any time,” Lady Grace said.
Miles smiled at her. “Perhaps not aloud.”
“Sit here, Dashlend,” the duke said, motioning to an empty seat beside him. “I’ll need you on this end of the table, far away from my youngest. I’ve promised her I’d keep you away, you see—you are a stranger, so you may well be a murderer.”
“Mrs. Wendover said he might be a murderer, Papa,” Lady Valor said. In a voice so quiet she could almost not be heard, she whispered, “I was only thinking it.”
Miles sat down. He presumed Mrs. Wendover was the housekeeper just now at table, though he thought he remembered another name for that lady when she was introduced. But whatever her name was, why should she suspect him of being a murderer?
“I do not suppose many murderers arrive by capsized boat, washed up on the beach,” he said.
“Hah! That’s right, Valor!” the duke said, motioning the waiter to fill their wine glasses. “Not much of an entrance for a murderer!”
Lady Valor seemed to consider this point and took to whispering to a stuffed rabbit on her lap.
The duke said, “Well now, I suppose this could-be-a-murderer at our table cannot be expected to remember all the names of this ghastly horde. That’s Patience, Verity, Winsome, and Serenity. Valor would have already made herself memorable. There is my esteemed housekeeper, Mrs. Right—she runs the place. And then, my second eldest—Grace.”
Miles nodded to all of them and tried to keep their names straight. Who was this Mrs. Wendover who thought he might be a murderer though? A governess? Perhaps she’d declined to walk down to the beach and had stayed inside a carriage?
He did think it was rather hopeful of the duke to name his daughters as temperaments that they might or might not possess. He had always thought, whenever he met with a Lady Charity, or Faith, or Constance, that it was a rather risky proposition.
“Rest assured, Lord Dashlend,” Lady Winsome said, “I explained to Valor that you cannot be a murderer because a murderer is more sly. They like to sneak up on a person. Why? Because the murderer knows that people do not just stand around waiting to be murdered.”
This very predictably sent a shiver through Lady Valor and she clutched the raggedy stuffed rabbit in her arms. It rather sent a shiver through Miles too. It sounded as if Lady Winsome had given some careful and extensive consideration to the habits and strategies of murderers.
He thought to turn the conversation to more usual subjects, as this was the first time murderers had been the topic at any dinner he’d ever attended and he was hoping it was the last. “Lady Grace,” he said, “may I ask what are you looking forward to in Town? I suppose attending balls must be high on the list?”
For some reason, the mention of dancing gave the lady a rather stricken look. Miles began to wonder if the duke had failed to hire a dancing master for his daughters.
But no, it would be too absurd. In truth, it would be barbaric. One could not send a lady to Town without the necessary skills to attend a ball. Certainly not a duke’s daughter.
“Oh yes, dancing, certainly,” Lady Grace said.
It was not said very convincingly.
“What she means to say, Dashlend, is our Gracie has two left feet,” the duke said. “Best to know it now—surprises like that never do anybody any good.”
