The Duke's Holiday (19 page)

“I, er, scripted? That is …” Mr. Fawkes stuttered, looking
severely uncomfortable at the turn of conversation.

“He was reported to have walked about the desert in sandals
and rags. No doubt he begged in the streets. If, in fact, he existed,” the Duke
continued.

Lady Emily gasped and covered her mouth with her napkin.

“He was very p-p-poor, granted …” Mr Fawkes looked as if he
might weep.

“There you have it,” the Duke intoned. “Good Christians
eschew vulgar displays of wealth. Thank heavens I am not a good Christian, or I
would be in serious trouble. I have so very much wealth, you see.” He smiled
coldly. “Although I am never vulgar.”

“Unless talking of your great estate,” Astrid cut in. “Or
nonconformism at the dinner table.”

His smile deepened. “You are so very astute, Miss
Honeywell.” He turned to Aunt Emily. “Is she not astute, my lady?”

Aunt Emily glared at Astrid, as if the Duke’s intractability
were her fault.

“What a serious discussion to be having,” Sir Wesley said
next to her. “I avow I haven’t heard the like since Cambridge. Everyone at
Cambridge are atheists. It is the fashion these days.”

“
I
ain’t an
atheist,” muttered Robert, who ignored his soup and was well into his third
glass of port.

“I should hope not,” Aunt Emily huffed. She gave one final
look at the Duke, then sat back against her chair with a huff.

Astrid was immensely grateful to the Duke for having
rendered her aunt speechless.

He took up his spoon to finally begin his course – he
had only managed one or two sips since it was set in front of him – but
he set the spoon aside once more after tasting it. “It’s cold,” he declared,
pushing away his bowl.

The courses passed amid a trickle of conversation. The
vicar and Sir Wesley attempted to stir up safe subjects for discussion, but the
Duke usually managed to stall these discussions with some non sequitur or
other. Around the fifth course, Lady Emily and Davina had both given up on
garnering the Duke’s notice after a short exchange over the color of Davina’s
gown, in which the Duke had stated that he had curtains of that exact shade in
his London retiring room.

At this pronouncement, Davina’s face turned puce.

Astrid was immensely entertained by the Duke’s manner. He
might be her adversary in general, but tonight she thought he made a fine ally.
His contempt for her aunt was quite in line with her own feelings. She was
rather jealous of him for handling Lady Emily so well. Astrid was not free to
be as honest in her feelings towards her aunt as he was.

She found herself silently applauding the Duke as he deftly
mowed down every attempt at polite conversation thrown his way. He was quite a
master at the indirect insult.

She tended to insult in a very direct manner.

Seeing him interact with her relations, she finally saw how
very formidable he could be. In three counties that she knew of, no one dared
to cross her Aunt Emily. Though only a baroness, she was the daughter of a very
powerful Earl and never let anyone forget it. But she was no match for
Montford. He couldn’t give a jot what Lady Emily thought of him, as his manner
made abundantly clear. He knew – and Lady Emily knew – that he was
so far above her and everyone else at the table he might as well have been
sitting on a cloud staring down at them all. In all of England, he was said to
wield even more clout than the Prince Regent himself.

It must be very useful to be Montford, having most
everyone, even the likes of Lady Emily, currying his favor. And it must be most
vexing to encounter people like Astrid herself, who didn’t give a toss about
his rank. No wonder his trip to Rylestone had undone him so, as no one deferred
to him.

Still, he had his own peculiarities. She’d never seen
someone so particular about his toilette, and she’d seen Aunt Anabel’s snuffbox
collection and suspected he was behind its rearrangement. And with every course
that came out, she watched him arrange his food on the plate so that none of
the items touched – no small feat. He even made the servant drizzle the
sauce for the game hen, normally poured over the bird, into a puddle on one
side of his dish.

He must have sensed her scrutiny, because he turned to her,
looking rather defensive, as if he knew precisely how odd his plate looked. “Is
there something amiss, Miss Honeywell?”

She tore her gaze away from his plate and cut into her hen,
which was swimming in sauce. She took a lusty bite and smiled at him. He
frowned disapprovingly but watched as she devoured the rest of her bird, as if
fascinated by it.

The downside to having the Duke deflect her Aunt was that
Lady Emily turned her attention to Astrid and proceeded to vent all of her
frustrations by pointing out everything that was wrong with Astrid, Astrid’s
sisters, Astrid’s behavior, the castle, the estate, and anything untoward that
could be laid at Astrid’s feet.

Astrid nodded at intervals and pushed the food around on
her plate, having lost her appetite as soon as her aunt started in. She was
quite used to such litanies and knew it was best not to try and defend herself.
That
never ended well with her aunt.
She did not think anyone would appreciate a screaming contest over dessert, and
she had promised herself to be on her best behavior for Alice’s sake. The
dinner was already dismal enough anyway.

Once, she caught the Duke staring at her, and it was as if
she could read his thoughts behind his droll expression.
What
, he seemed to say,
are
you not going to fight back?

By the pudding, Aunt Emily arrived at the subject of
Astrid’s riding habits, which was a particularly sore one given today’s events.

“I heard it from Mrs. Regina Thurgood, who heard it from
Mrs. Bourke that certain of my cousins have been seen riding through Rylestone
astride
,” Aunt Emily said with severe
disapproval.

At the end of this announcement, one of the servants
– very loyal to Astrid – plopped Aunt Emily’s portion of syllabub
– dyed an improbable red color – in front of her with a thud. The
gelatinous substance leaned towards the lady’s bosom, nearly touching it, then
wobbled in the opposite direction, as if distancing itself from an unpleasant
association.

“Indeed, ma’am?” Astrid said smoothly. “And did Mrs. Bourke
see this cousin of yours with or without the use of her spectacles?” Not that
it mattered. Mrs. Bourke was blind as a bat even with her spectacles.

Aunt Emily narrowed her gaze. “Irresponsible behavior like
that reflects poorly upon the whole family. How am I to explain to my friends
and the many people who look to me for guidance the reason for such behavior? I
call you eccentric and remind them of my dear sister’s premature death. But how
am I to continue to defend you, niece, when you persist in such misguided acts?
It is a good thing we have so little truly good society in the district, or
your reputation would most surely be unsalvageable.”

“Yet I thought you said just this afternoon how blessed we
were with a surplus of truly good society in the district,” Astrid replied
sweetly.

“Don’t presume to tell me what I have said. I said nothing
of the sort.”

“Then we have no good society in the district?”

“Don’t be difficult, Astrid.”

Astrid stabbed her spoon into her dessert and watched it
slither in half.

“If your mother were alive…”

Astrid rolled her eyes.

“… she’d never let you go tearing across the countryside in
such a manner.”

“Ah, but she’s not.”

“Driven to an early grave by
that man
.”

Astrid stiffened at the allusion.

“My father, god rest his soul, was right to cut her off
when she defied his dictates and married so very beneath her station,” Aunt
Emily murmured.

That does it
,
Astrid thought grimly, letting her spoon clatter rudely against her plate. It
was one thing for Lady Emily to malign her, but to malign her parents was quite
another. Aunt Emily had gone beyond all bounds of propriety by airing the
family’s dirty laundry over dinner anyway, and so Astrid felt not the least
bothered by loosening her tongue and answering her aunt in kind.

“My father was a gentleman, and of a family far older than
the Earl of Carlisle,” she retorted.

Someone choked across the table at the mention of the Earl.
Astrid looked up and saw the Duke coughing into his napkin, a look of
astonishment plainly writ upon his face.

She dismissed him –
what was his problem? –
and turned back to her aunt.

“’Twas only after the Restoration that the earldom was even
created. I believe the first Earl was a favorite haberdasher to the King.”

Lady Emily turned as red as her dessert.

Astrid turned to the Duke and smiled. “Charles the Second
was fond of hats.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ah, indeed.”

“Do not insult your ancestors, gel.”

“As your family has chosen not to acknowledge us –
excepting, of course, for you, Aunt – I don’t very well see how they are
my
ancestors. And is it an insult merely
to recount history?”

“Insolence. Forwardness. It is no wonder you shall never
find a husband.”

“But I don’t want a husband, aunt.”

“Nonsense. Everyone wants a husband.”

“
I
don’t,” Robert
murmured at her side.

Astrid burst out laughing. It was either that or scream.

Aunt Emily glared at her youngest son, then glared at
Astrid. “And what of your sisters? What’s to become of them?”

Alice sank in her seat.

“That is a good question, my lady,” the Duke cut in drolly.
“What indeed is to become of the Misses Honeywells?”

Lady Emily inclined her head towards the Duke in gracious
acknowledgment.

“It is a shame, madam,” continued the Duke, “that these
poor orphaned creatures had no sympathetic relations willing to do their
Christian duty
and see them properly
settled. The granddaughters of so esteemed a peer as the Earl of Carlisle
should have taken their place in society, do you not think?”

Lady Emily’s eyes narrowed as she realized the Duke’s
subtle criticism.

Astrid’s eyes narrowed as well. Just what was Montford
about now?

The Duke, who had not deigned to touch his syllabub, sat
back in his chair and settled a glacial gaze on Lady Emily. “Tell me, Lady
Emily, when Miss Honeywell and her sister came of age, should they not have
been brought out? Isn’t that what one does with females of a certain breeding?
I profess myself most ignorant in such matters, as I have no family of my own.”

“In most cases, that would be the course of things,” Aunt
Emily replied carefully.

“You were perhaps not in a position to offer such
assistance?”

Lady Emily pursed her lips.

Aunt Anabel, who had fallen into a doze in her dessert,
brought her head up. Her wig was noticeably embellished with a dollop of
syllabub. “I told
her
, put the gels
up on the auction block, see if there’s any takers. Sure to be some young buck
who’d come up to scratch for our Alice. When I was a young thing, gadding about
Versailles, I seen the Queen herself, but she hadn’t a patch on our Alice’s
beauty. I told
her
–” This punctuated
by a shake of her wig in Aunt Emily’s direction – “one Season, down in
our capitol, for each of my girls, as she well had the blunt for it.”

Alice blushed and sank even lower in her seat. Lady Emily
looked as if she wanted to do the same.

“Thank you, Miss Honeywell,” the Duke said. “You have been
most enlightening, as usual.”

Aunt Anabel nodded, and so did her wig. She drifted off
once more.

“Since Rylestone Hall has come into my possession, so, it
seems, do the Misses Honeywells,” the Duke continued.

“What?” Astrid burst out.

“What?” cried Aunt Emily.

“I am your cousin, Miss Honeywell, or shall we have another
recounting of history?” he said grimly. “My great-great-great aunt wed your
great-great grandfather, or something of that sort, is this not so? That makes
you quite possibly my nearest relation. Aside, of course, from my odious second
cousin Rupert, who seems to think he’s my heir. But that’s neither here nor
there. We’re talking about you and your future.”

“Are we?” she ground out.

The Duke smiled mildly. “It is clear you and your sisters
have been sadly neglected. With no other relations
willing
to do their duty by you, it falls onto my shoulders to see
that you take your place in society. Mr. McConnell was most eager to point this
out to me earlier tonight.”

“Hiram!” Astrid half-rose from her seat.

“He seems to think it would behoove all parties involved if
you were to be given a Season.”

“A Season?” Astrid cried, incredulous.

“A Season!” Aunt Emily and Davina burst out, equally
incredulous.

Alice looked dumbfounded, and Sir Wesley and the vicar
looked as if they might burst into tears.
 
Only Sir Robert, Aunt Anabel and the twins seemed entirely immune to the
pronouncement.

The Duke’s smile was brittle. His eyes glinted with
self-congratulation. “As I have no sisters or cousins to chaperone you, I have
taken it upon myself to write to a good friend of mine, the Countess of
Brinderley, and ask that she accommodate you during your stay in London. She is
quite the best
ton
, and shall find
you husbands.”

“Husbands!” Astrid cried.

“The Countess of Brinderley!” Aunt Emily and Davina cried.

The Duke turned towards the pair. “Do you know the
Countess?”

“We have … heard of her,” Aunt Emily said in a choked
voice.

“Then you shall agree there is no better patroness in
London.”

“Indeed.” Lady Emily looked as if she might choke on her
jealousy.