Percy fumbled and nearly dropped the note. It was obviously from the duke, as nobody but that gentleman used the term “eh” as much as he did.
Lady Felicity had told her father all about the ruse before he even had a chance to explain!
He would not be chained; he’d said so many times. And now, just as he’d changed his mind about chains, his words had come back to haunt him by way of a pile of chains.
Percy slipped the note into a pocket, turned round, and went back into the house. His father had calmed somewhat, or at least as calm as he ever was. The viscountess had made arrangements for someone to climb over the pile of chains to fetch a doctor and she’d poured the viscount a glass of brandy.
“I’ll get to the bottom of whose idea of a joke this was,” the viscount said.
“What is the joke, though?” the viscountess asked.
The viscount did not answer, as he was too worn out to even warn his lady.
“I’m sure it was simply delivered to the wrong address,” Percy said. “While we wait to be informed of the rightful owner, we can have the grooms move it to the mews.”
The viscount nodded his consent to the idea, the brandy going a good way to soothing him.
Before Percy could make that arrangement, a young man appeared on the other side of the pile of chains. A young man in the duke’s livery. A young man who Percy recognized as the duke’s footman.
“A message for Mr. Stratton, sirs,” the lad called, holding out folded paper.
Percy hurried out. It seemed the duke was not satisfied to leave a note in the pile of chains but had written him a letter too.
He reached over the pile of chains, took the letter, and tipped the boy a coin. Percy slipped it into a pocket along with the other note.
“What is it? Who is it from?” the viscount asked querulously.
“Oh, from Magnon,” Percy said casually. “He said he would write about… a matter. Well! Everything seems to be in good order here, I’ll just go above stairs—Radcliff is not finished fussing with my knot.”
Percy took the stairs two at a time, leaving the viscountess to manage her viscount. He hurried into his room and shut the door behind him. Radcliff stood staring expectantly.
“The condensed version of events downstairs is that the Duke of Pelham has had chains of all sorts piled high on our doorstep, my father fell over them and broke his finger and probably his toe, there was a note tucked into the pile that said, ‘You will not be chained, eh?’ and then the duke’s footman arrived with a letter addressed to me. My father does not know about the note or the letter, did not recognize the duke’s livery, nor yet guessed where the chains came from.”
Radcliff looked as bowled over by the report as was to be expected. It was not everyday that one’s doorstep was piled with chains and one’s father broke appendages falling over them.
Percy pulled the letter out of his pocket, dreading what it would say. He hoped the duke did not plan to call him to a green for insulting his daughter, even though he was well aware that the gentleman had a habit of not turning up at the appointed hour for such meetings.
He broke the seal and slowly unfolded it, not failing to notice that Radcliff had casually moved next to him to read over his shoulder.
Mr. Stratton,
We are verydispointeddisappointteddisappointed in you. We thought you were nice but you are mean! Everybody knows being mean is very bad. You are a terrible person. We hope my Papa wraps you in chains and throws you in a lake.
Lady Valor Nicolet and Mrs. Persephone Wendover
“Valor,” Radcliff said, “she is the youngest.”
“Yes.”
“Who is Mrs. Wendover?”
“Her stuffed rabbit,” Percy said.
“Well now, that’s a rather murderous stuffed bunny,” Radcliff said with a snort. “I suppose you ought to be grateful the duke left the chains on your doorstep, rather than take Lady Valor’s advice to wrap you in them to drop you in a lake.”
“Now the whole family is against me, even the youngest of them and the inanimate among them.”
“What will you do?” Radcliff asked.
