Valor covered her face with Mrs. Wendover’s floppy worn-out body and giggled uncontrollably.
“You know of what I speak. You cannot possibly bring your housekeeper to an outing in the park,” Lady Marchfield said.
“Of course I can,” the duke said. “I have two carriages, that’s eight seats comfortably—nine with a little bit of a squeeze and Valor is still small enough to make it feasible. My god, woman, it’s as if you cannot work out the simplest thing anymore.”
“People will see you! It will be noted!”
“And then?” the duke asked.
“It will be talked about.”
“And then?” the duke asked again.
Quite predictably, Lady Marchfield did not have a particular answer for that. Felicity supposed most people would not like to be talked about as having done something that was not exactly right, but the duke did not give a toss about it.
Felicity was glad of it. It would have been terrible to have to leave Mrs. Right behind just because it was not the done thing to take one’s housekeeper to the park.
Lady Marchfield said, “Felicity, I will see you on Thursday. Roland, I am beginning to hope I will never see you again.”
“Finally! We are agreed!” the duke said, laughing heartily at his own joke.
Felicity’s aunt turned and marched out of the drawing room, nearly running over poor Thomas.
Goodness, what a morning.
Chapter Twenty
Percy spent adeal of time at Lackington & Allen attempting to discover another book on stoats. When he had last met Lady Felicity at that location, that was her interest. She was considering having a stoat of her own and wished to know what might be the joys and challenges of keeping a stoat in the house. Percy suspected a stoat would land more on the challenge side of things, but who was he to say?
Mr. Lackington had been perplexed that he had a second person interested in stoats, and that it could not be a copy of the first book he’d sold to Lady Felicity.
The poor fellow had searched high and low and finally found a book on mustelids, of which the stoat was one.
Mr. Lackington had been further perplexed when Percy put a bookmark on the chapter about stoats and then ordered it delivered to Lady Felicity Nicolet, daughter of the Duke of Pelham. The shopkeeper even went so far to say, “Mr. Stratton, in the usual way of things, I regularly have gentlemen buy books for ladies on flowers, or sketching techniques, or some such. A book on mustelids seems a rather unusual choice.”
Percy had nodded. “Lady Felicity is an unusual lady from an unusual family.”
“Oh yes, that is true, it seems,” Mr. Lackington said.
Percy had arranged for the delivery and then set off to the park to clear his head. He’d decided he would pepper the duke’shouse with gifts of every sort and must think up more ideas. He had already thought of the book on stoats.
He’d had the further inspiration of visiting a dress shop and spending quite a while convincing the shopkeeper that he wished for an India shawl, but it must be cut down to a very small size. He would send Mrs. Wendover her own fine shawl in a bid to win over Lady Valor.
He needed to think of at least one other thing that would be meaningful.
As he trotted down the paths, it came to him. He would buy Lady Felicity a set of cake pans. She had inquired what he thought about a lady deciding she would like to bake cakes. He’d had no idea if she inquired because she planned on doing it, or was already doing it, or if it was just a passing idea. It did not matter, though. She would understand the message.
Just as he was wondering where one went to buy a set of cake pans and toying with the idea of asking the viscount’s cook about it, he spotted the duke’s carriages. They could not be missed—the park was near empty, both carriages were very fine and sporting the duke’s crest, and they rode one in front of the other.
Now was a moment handed to him by the fates.
He trotted over, his thoughts racing as to what he would say—what would be his opening gambit?
Before he had time to say anything at all, he saw the duke’s face peer out and the curtains close with a swish. He dropped his horse back and rode to the other side of the carriage.
Mrs. Right, the housekeeper, who was inexplicably riding with the duke, glared at him and inched the curtain closed, all the while attempting to burn a hole through his face with her expression.
He trotted up to the carriage ahead, but it was no better a reception. Lady Valor looked at him wide-eyed and wrestled with the curtain to close it. Then, when he tried to get aheadof the carriage to make a last attempt on the other side, the coachman would not let him pass.
