A Wedding In Springtime(11)
“Just yesterday,” said Marchford.
“I am a witness that you were not in the room with her for more than a minute. Even you cannot qualify that as a ‘visit,’” said Grant.
“I did visit her upon my return,” defended the duke.
“But that was almost three weeks ago. Have ye not visited her since?” asked Thornton.
“I doubt Lady Louisa has changed much in the passing weeks. Indeed, I find she was not significantly different since the last time I saw her three years ago.”
“Your affection for her astounds me,” drawled Grant, a smile in his blue eyes.
“Is it quite impossible to break the arrangement?” asked Thornton.
“The Duke of Marchford is obligated to marry the Lady Louisa. And so he shall.” Marchford spoke without emotion and took another sip of his wine. His friends were well aware of the long-standing arrangement. The longer it stood, the clearer Marchford’s ambivalence toward the match became.
“What a romantic you are, my friend,” mocked Grant. “A toast then, to your impending nuptials.” He raised his glass in salute. “I don’t envy you. With the burden of titles comes the expectation of a legitimate heir only a wife can provide. Now me, I am most blessed to be unencumbered by the burden of producing an heir. M’sisters have produced enough nephews to take on my estate once I quit this earth, and I have no embarrassment of means which necessitates the hunt for an heiress.”
“So, ye have quite decided not to marry?” asked Thornton.
“I cannot fathom a state more fatally dull than that of marriage. Have not the temperament for it, I fear. I’ll leave the heiresses to you, my friend. I shall live quite comfortably without the burden of a wife. Think I’ll write a new will every year naming a different nephew as heir and watch them fall over themselves to win my affection. What an amusing diversion it shall be.”
“When you become a mean-spirited old man, remind me to cut our acquaintance,” said the duke.
Far from being offended, Grant merely laughed. “Speaking of mean-spirited, when and how do you propose to remove your grandmother from London? You are aware her bringing in a companion is a direct attack on your authority.”
“No, no,” disagreed Thornton, “merely a shot across the bow, warning ye to proceed no further.”
“Who is this companion? Perhaps I could seduce her away for you.” Grant laughed at his friend’s raised eyebrows, adding, “Always at the service of a friend.”
“The companion is a Miss Penelope Rose,” reported Marchford. “I met her yesterday and she had no compunction in accosting me with her sharp tongue. As for being seduced, she does not appear to be prone to that particular vice.”
“It is becoming more and more clear why yer grandmother invited her into yer home,” observed Thornton.
“The Rose sisters.” Grant swirled his drink and looked up at the ceiling. “Pretty things the lot of them—golden hair, sparkling blue eyes, took London by storm about three seasons ago. Though being the daughters of a deceased country clergyman in no way recommended them, they had faces that made one forget. I confess even I, only for the briefest of moments, considered making an offer to the eldest, but fortunately Lord Stanton got there before me.”
“A narrow escape,” commented Marchford.
“To be sure. Not aware there were any Rose sisters left to be had.”
“I believe Miss Penelope Rose is the middle sister. You have been introduced to her, I am sure. She is the only brunette of the family,” said Thornton.
“I do not remember her.”
“Ye only remember the pretty ones.”
“True.” Grant eyed his drink with suspicion. “Must have something to do with the whiskey.”
“Considering giving it up?” asked Thornton with a raised eyebrow.
“Goodness no! Serves its purpose well.”
“So, what are ye going to do with yer grandmother’s plain companion?” Thornton asked Marchford.
“I am going to do nothing with her, and with any luck, my opportunities to meet her will be few indeed. My grandmother is, naturally, welcome to take her new companion with her when she moves to the dowager house in the country.”
“And how do you propose to remove your grandmother from her roost?” asked Grant.
The duke checked a smile. “In advance of her moving to the country, I have transferred her accounts to my man of business for my estate in Hertfordshire.”