The Duke's Holiday (9 page)

IN WHICH MISS
HONEYWELL ATTEMPTS TO DIG A HOLE TO CHINA

Montford
watched at a distance of a few paces as Miss Honeywell and her sister Alice
greeted the new arrival. The young man was mop-haired and handsome in a
pleasant, vapid sort of way, his eyes large and brown and earnest. He was
clearly related to the Honeywells, as evidenced by his red hair, freckles and
snub nose. Montford was quite sure, however, he was not their brother. Not only
because his solicitors had made sure Alyosius was heirless years ago, but also
because of the way the young man was currently staring at both Miss Honeywells,
like a besotted mooncalf.

Montford snorted.

“Astrid!” cried the man, bounding towards Miss Honeywell,
embracing her impulsively. “It’s been ever such a torture to …” He blushed when
he noticed Alice standing off to the side, also furiously blushing. “Alice!”
cried the moon-faced fool, jumping back from Miss Honeywell and trotting over
to Alice. He looked ready to embrace her, thought better of it, and took her
hand instead, kissing the top of it awkwardly.

Alice’s face turned from pink to crimson. So did the
visitor’s. “Hello, Alice,” he mumbled.

Montford rolled his eyes. It seemed this gentleman was in
love with both Honeywell sisters. The poor sod.

“Hello, Wes –” Alice began.

“
W-An
thony.
Hello,
Anthony
,” interrupted Miss
Honeywell, moving quickly to separate the two. “We’re ever so glad you’re
home.”

As Montford had expected, the gentleman’s face creased in
confusion. He looked from Astrid, to Alice, then back to Astrid, blinked, then
noticed Montford loitering a few paces away. Eyes lighting up in comprehension,
he started forward, arm extended.“Very nice to meet you, er, Anthony—” the
man began. Poor, poor sod. Astrid jerked on his arm in a panic, and he stumbled
backwards. “Astrid, what in the blue blazes …” he hissed.

“
Anthony
, you
silly pea-hen,” Astrid laughed. “You very well who you are.”

“Anthony” glanced at Alice, who just shrugged.

“You’ve arrived just in time, for look who has come to
call. May I introduce His Grace, the Duke of Montford?” Astrid continued
breezily.

“Anthony’s” jaw dropped to the ground. Or it would have if
it had not been hinged to head. He drew himself up and gazed at Montford with
eyes the size of dinner plates.

“Your Grace, may I present my
brother
, Mr. Anthony Honeywell.” Astrid elbowed Anthony in the ribs.

Anthony struggled for several moments to say something, but
nothing came out. At last, he seemed to find some measure of self-control, for
he finally managed to bow quite correctly and murmur, “Your Grace.”

“Mr.
Honeywell
,”
Montford ground out.

“I am … shocked,” Anthony blubbered.

“Not so much as I,” Montford murmured dryly. “I was
not
expecting you.”

“Oh, well … erm, I came over straight away from mother’s
–
egad
, Astrid!” Anthony cried,
rubbing the spot where Miss Honeywell had just thwacked him with an elbow.
“What are you about? And why do you keep calling me…”

“You must be starving after your long journey. And
parched
,” Astrid cut in smoothly,
pulling the confused young man towards the castle entrance.

“Not really, I…”

“Let’s go inside, and you can tell us all about your trip.”

At that, “Anthony” brightened considerably, clearly on even
ground once more. “Yes, my trip.” He turned to Montford with an anxious
expression as he was pulled along. The poor fellow stood absolutely no chance.

Montford tipped his hat at the man and turned to Alice, who
was staring wide-eyed at her sister’s back. She turned to Montford with a
worried frown.

They both cleared their throats and looked towards the
curricle.

“
Hardly
a
practical vehicle for a long journey,” he drawled.

Alice squeaked out a response through her terror.

Montford sighed. “Don’t worry, Miss Alice. I’m sure your
sister can explain everything to us in due course. But let’s give the two of
them a minute.” He paused with what he thought was an appropriate measure of
drama. “To get their stories straight.”

She stared at him in surprise. “You’re not going to … I
mean, Wes … er, Anthony…”

“Oh, I wouldn’t
dream
of stopping your sister from digging herself a hole. Where would be the fun in
that?” he said drily, repeating Astrid’s own words from earlier. He offered
Alice his arm, and she took it hesitatingly.

And as they strode together inside, Montford realized that
he had spoken the truth to Alice. He was, as demented as it seemed, starting to
be immensely entertained by Miss Honeywell’s scheming. He was, in fact, having
fun. More fun than he’d had in years.

And on the heels of that realization followed a healthy
dose of apprehension.

Good God,
fun
.
The last thing he needed.

“WHAT
DO you mean I am to pretend to be your brother?” Sir Wesley hissed as Astrid
pulled him towards the parlor and whispered instructions in his ear. “You don’t
have a brother.”

“Which is precisely why you are pretending,” Astrid
explained through clenched teeth. Her cousin had never been the quickest study,
but really. Did she have to spell out every word to him?

“But Astrid, I can’t lie to the Duke of Montford,” Wesley
whispered.

“It is not a lie.
You’ve
never actually said you’re my brother.”

Wesley looked unconvinced and very confused. “Well, that’s
because I’m not, am I?”

Oh, for the love of … “Wesley, I
need
you to do this.”

Wesley’s brow creased with annoyance. “Look here, old girl,
I don’t want to get mixed up in this … this whatever it is you’re trying to
accomplish … what
are
you trying to
accomplish?”

“I am trying to save Rylestone Hall. For heavens’ sake,
Wesley, do try to keep up. The Duke has come here because he knows about
father. He thinks Rylestone Hall belongs to him now…”

“Doesn’t it?”

She waved this away. “Details.”

Wesley sighed. “But I’ve told you in the past you don’t
need to worry about trying to stay here when you can come to the Grange. Mother
–”

“Would have a fit of vapors.”

“She’ll get over it.” Wesley grabbed her hand, an earnest
expression falling over his face, reminding Astrid of a startled kitten. “You
know what I want, Astrid, and that is for you to be…”

Astrid shook her hand free and forestalled Wesley from an
outright declaration. Another proposal of marriage was the last thing she
needed. “And you know what I want, Wesley. I think I have been clear on that. I
want Rylestone Hall. It is my home, and Alice’s home. I’ll not let the Duke of
Montford take it from us just because of some two hundred year old piece of
parchment.”

Wesley gave her a pitying stare. “What
happened
to you, Astrid?”

She stiffened. “What are you talking about?” she demanded.

“I remember a time when you dreamed of a different sort of
life. You never wanted to run the estate. You never even wanted to stay here.
You couldn’t wait to leave Rylestone.”

Astrid turned away from Wesley and stared out the window to
hide her expression from her cousin. She was shaken by Wesley’s words, had not
thought her cousin capable of such cutting insight. Yes, she
had
once dreamed of something very
different. Travel. Adventure. Romance. Silly dreams of a silly girl.

But then her mother died in childbirth, and her father went
… well,
crazy
, and there was nothing
for it but to take up the reins. Ardyce had been two years old and Antonia had
been newly born, and Aunt Emily had threatened to take them both from Rylestone
Hall to give them a “proper upbringing”. Astrid had been all of fourteen, but
she had fought her aunt and won. Her family had stayed together, and after a
time the estate began to prosper. She couldn’t imagine how her life could have
turned out any differently.

Oh, who was she fooling? Of
course
she could imagine. But only that.

She would not change what she had now for all the travel
and adventure and romance in the world. And she would not give up Rylestone
Hall without a serious fight.

“That was a long time ago,” she murmured.

Wesley touched her shoulder. “Not so very.”

She moved away from his hand. “You don’t know what you’re
talking about.”

“I know that trying to keep this estate afloat single-handedly
is too much for you.”

She stuck her hands on her hips and glared at him. “You
think me incapable.”

“No, of course not. Good gad, Astrid, you have a way of
twisting a body’s words. What I mean is it is not the life you chose. It is not
the life you were meant to live.”

She laughed humorlessly. “And you think
you
are the one to give me what I need?” she asked bitterly.

Wesley remained silent for so long that Astrid finally
turned to him. He was staring at her with a stricken expression, and she felt
immediately guilty for her harsh tone.

“I don’t know if I am anymore,” Wesley said in a quiet
voice. “But you need something. Someone. Before you wake up and find yourself…”

He trailed off, unwilling to complete his thought, his
cheeks flooding with color.

At least one of them had a filter.

Though Astrid knew precisely what he would have said.

Before you wake up
and find yourself alone.

Which was ridiculous, because she had Ardyce and Antonia
and Alice. And Aunt Anabel, who would not be around for much longer, granted,
but who loved her. She had Hiram and his family and Flora, and Charlie and Mick
and even Sir Wesley himself. She had countless people who loved her and
depended upon her.

How could she ever be alone?

The Duke chose at that moment to step into the room with
Alice on his arm. Astrid moved away from Wesley’s side and tried to compose her
face, though her emotions were in turmoil. When she turned back to the others,
the Duke was studying her questioningly, wryly. After a moment, he turned his
attention to Wesley, who cleared his throat several times and avoided making eye
contact with anyone.

Astrid could read nothing on the Duke’s impassive features
but the mildest of interest in the new arrival. As if Astrid had not just
thrown an obstacle of monumental proportions in his path. There was no way the
Duke believed her, but he was not calling her bluff.

Which was interesting.

And worrying.

Astrid had a devious mind, and knowing what she herself was
capable of made her fear that others were equally cunning and unscrupulous. But
while she generally held the male mind in low esteem, she was not inclined to
underestimate the one belonging to her current opponent. If she was plotting
against
him
, chances were good that
he was also plotting against
her
.

Astrid felt rather like the fox at the hunt, which meant
that the Duke was definitely the pack of hounds dogging her heels. But for the
life of her she couldn’t think of a single prevarication to throw him off the
scent at the moment. Wesley had upset her with his unexpected wisdom, just like
Hiram had done earlier in the morning.

What was
wrong
with everyone? Did they
want
her to
fail? Did they
want
her and her
family to lose their birthright?

The silence in the room stretched until it was so taut
Astrid feared Wesley was going to blurt out the truth. He was definitely
beginning to squirm under the Duke’s steady gaze.

“So, Mr.
Honeywell
,”
the Duke finally said abruptly, startling everyone in the room. “Why don’t you
tell us about your trip.”

Wesley’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “Ah, yes. My … er,
trip.”

“I’ll send for tea,” Alice said, darting from the room, as
if escaping from a trap.

The Duke indicated a chair for Astrid, and, after a bit of
hesitation, she sat down on the edge of it, feeling distinctly nervous.

Wesley settled across from her after the Duke claimed one
of the high-backed, throne-like Jacobean chairs Aunt Anabel favored. He crossed
his leg over his knee and propped his chin on his hand, arching a brow, as if
waiting for the action to continue, a King at his leisure.

“Steam engines,” Wesley finally blurted after an
interminably long and awkward interval.

Astrid tried very hard not to roll her eyes.
Here we go
, she thought with grim
satisfaction. Montford wouldn’t know what hit him after Wesley started in on
his favorite subject.

The Duke’s brow caved downwards in puzzlement. “I beg your
pardon.”

“The purpose of my trip. I’m interested in steam.”

“How … fascinating,” the Duke said in a tone that betrayed
how very
un
-fascinating he thought it
was.

Wesley leaned towards the Duke confidentially. “Don’t tell
my moth…” Wesley blanched and gave Astrid a look of alarm. “That is, I would
rather not the world know where I’ve been. It’s rather a sensitive matter. Not
very many people understand or appreciate my interest in steam.”

Few people understood or appreciated Wesley’s tinkerings
full stop
. He was constantly building
strange contraptions and making things explode. The roof over the conservatory
at the Grange had had to be replaced last year because of one of Wesley’s “scientific”
experiments gone awry.

“You see, I’ve been up north on the coast a because I heard
of a man who was working on an engine powered by steam. Can you imagine it,
Your Grace? A horseless carriage? Faster than a team of twenty.”

The Duke grimaced. “I shall try very hard not to,” he
murmured.