“Very well.” Cassie broke the seal.
She scanned the contents.
Mrs. Townsend had written that Mr. Townsend had, in no uncertain terms, declined to receive help from the Hall. However, she had not given up. She’d waited a few days and then asked him if she might invite Mrs. Grayson, Mrs. Bottlesworth, and Miss Clapham to afternoon tea along with the duchess. To this, he had not objected.
Mrs. Townsend had then taken it upon herself to visit Mrs. Grayson, Mrs. Bottlesworth, and Miss Clapham, inviting each confidentially and in person. All had been most eager to have a private audience with the new duchess.
Most eagerhad been underlined three times.
Mrs. Townsend then went on to apologize for the short notice, explaining she had only just learned that the men meant to go down toinspect damage to the bridge on the road to Upper Harfield today. Would her Grace, perhaps, be available this afternoon?
Yes.Her Grace wouldmakeherself available.
She set aside the letter and glanced across the breakfast table to her husband. “Mrs. Townsend has invited me to tea this afternoon.”
He set aside his napkin. “And, by your expression, I’m guessing you’d rather attend than accompany me to the rector’s?”
“If you don’t mind,” she replied carefully. “She’ll be harvesting her fenugreek, and I did tell her I would like to learn more about how her tincture is made.”
“But you also expressly wished to meet the rector’s daughter, Miss Clapham.”
“As it happens, Miss Clapham is also planning to attend Mrs. Townsend’s tea.”
His expression suggested he found this odd, but, after brief consideration, he replied, “I suppose that does tip the scales. A discussion with the rectory would be less entertaining than an afternoon tea in the company of Mrs. Townsend and Miss Clapham.”
Mrs. Townsend, Miss Clapham, Mrs. Grayson, and Mrs. Bottlesworth.
She considered confiding in him, letting him know the real reason behind the tea, assuring him she only wished to form alliances on his behalf. But Mrs. Townsend had gone to a great deal of trouble, and she did not want to risk the possibility he’d ask her not to go.
Nor had she worked up the courage to destroy their fragile peace by demanding to know if he did indeed refuse to lower the rents, as Mrs. Townsend had suggested. But once she better understood the tenants’ concerns, she would broach the subject.
After their visit to the Townsends, there’d been no more talk of battle plans or strategy. In fact, whenever she tried to turn the conversation to estate matters, he always found an artful way to answer her question and then quickly change the subject. Which, of course, made her even less inclined to share her own plans andintentions.
Whether he wanted to discuss the matter or not, they were both responsible for the estate’s welfare. And distrusthadbeen sown among the tenantry. Besides, allies didn’t have to shareallthe information they gathered, did they?
Strategic secrecy was part of every diplomatic negotiation.
“I only hope,” Harbury continued, “the rector and I can reach an agreement on a candidate for the living in Harford Chase.”
“I still cannot believe the ducal hunting grounds include a village large enough to support a parish,” she commented lightly, happy the conversation had moved to Harford Chase and away from her plans.
“The parish is at the edge of the hunting grounds.” His gaze warmed. “We’ve a charming lodge not too far from the village. If you like, I can have the place aired out. Very snug,” he added in a velvety voice. “Very secluded.”
She lifted a brow. “An appropriate place for a lady, is it, this lodge?”
He shrugged. “If rumors are to be believed about the roguishness of my grandfather, not in his time.”
“Was your grandfather…disreputable?”
“Oh yes,” he said cheerfully. “Terribly. Butyouhave no need for concern. My father lived above reproach, as if on a mission to restore the family’s respectability.” He looked away, frowned and then blinked, as if he’d never considered the two things—his grandfather’s scandals and his father’s rectitude—to be connected before. “As soon as my father became duke,” he continued in a more thoughtful tone, “those kinds of parties ceased.”
“Imagine,” she said dryly. “A hunting lodge being used to…hunt.”
“Yes.” He sounded disappointed.
“And I suppose you learned to hunt by your father’s side?”
“No.” He cast his gaze out the window. “Anderson was tasked with teaching both Adrian and me.”
