The duke’s daughters seemed to find this very amusing, though Charles wondered at it.
The doors, which had not been entirely shut closed, slowly pushed open. Charles looked behind him. There he was—the three-legged dog. A missing leg was not his only deficiency either. He was clearly of low parentage, his coat was neither straight nor curled, one eye was clouded over, and its tongue, which just now lolled out of its mouth, was really far too long. The thing was hideous.
“Ah,” he said to Lady Serenity, “there is your dear Nelson.”
Lady Serenity nodded. “Lord Thorpe was so good as to have a collar made for him that explains where to return him on the underside of it.”
Did he, now. That was rather more clever than he’d imagined Thorpe would be. He kicked himself that he had not thought of it.
“Very thoughtful,” Charles said.
Lady Serenity nodded. “Dear Nelson has made a friend in Lord Thorpe’s Havoc. It is just a shame that he will never have the opportunity to meet your dear Nero.”
What was this now? When had Lady Serenity’s dog met Thorpe’s mastiff? Charles presumed the dogs had not met on their own. Certainly their owners had been present. How had that happened?
Thorpe, looking very pleased with himself, leaned forward and said to him, “Nelson and Havoc took a turn around the square.”
The duke laughed and said, “It’s to be a regular thing is my understanding.”
A regular thing? How was Thorpe getting a leg up on him? It was intolerable.
He supposed his brother had the advantage of location. Charles was at The Albany while Thorpe was two doors down.
Charles briefly thought of relocating himself into the Grosvenor Square house. He had the right to it. But he could not tolerate the irritation that would come along with that idea. He would not inherit that house, could not lord it over that house, and could not stand to watch Thorpe in the position of lord of the manor.
“We decided that since Havoc and Nelson got on so well,” Lady Serenity said, “they should have future opportunities to meet.”
Future opportunities to meet. How many opportunities?
Lady Serenity turned to Thorpe. “Goodness, I forgot to say. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Right, did advise that we not walk out if it is raining.”
“Ah yes, very good thought,” Thorpe said. “Though I suppose we ought to qualify what we mean by rain. I suppose a misting would not put us off?”
“Oh, a misting,” Lady Serenity said. “I hadn’t thought. Goodness, there really is not anything too inconvenient about a misting.”
Charles willed his eyes to not roll back in his head over the current debate. A misting, indeed.
Just then, the horrendous-looking cur sat on his foot underneath the table. Charles shook it off. It staggered and thencame back and bit at the leather of his boot. Then it moved off before he was forced to kick it halfway across the room.
This situation must be turned round somehow. Thorpe was beating him at a game and it must not be allowed to continue. His brother looked very smug at the moment.
He was not certain what he ought to do about it, but these walks with their two stupid dogs must not be allowed to go on. Thorpe could not be allowed to win.
*
Roland had notknown who else would be invited to the dinner, but it turned out to be a family affair. He found that rather promising. Stratton and Dashlend were both fine fellows. He supposed the duke was too, though rather an eccentric version of a fine fellow. The only gentleman attending who was not a particularly fine fellow was his brother Charles.
He was not certain whether it was for good or ill that Charles had been apprised of his walks with Lady Serenity. It would be hoped that Charles would take the hint and turn his attention elsewhere. On the other hand, his brother was not very skilled at being a gracious loser and as far as Charles was concerned, everything in the world was a win or lose proposition.
The duke’s table had been rather good. Roasts of beef and fowl, fricasseed chicken, thin-sliced potatoes in a creamed sauce, mashed parsnips, mushroom tartlets, Brussel sprouts with sauteed onions, rolls, and a chopped salad. It was the sort of thing one might have in the country—good food, not too fussy. He’d not paid much attention to the various cakes and trifles that came out, but the cheeseboard had been first rate. As well, the duke must have one of the finest wine cellars in Town.
All that, though, was of no matter. He would have been happy with a couple of rolls if it meant he was to dine with LadySerenity. He’d discovered she and her sisters rode Dales ponies and he found himself interested in seeing the duke’s stable. He understood they were surefooted, but then Lady Serenity was able to tell him of how courageous they were, and how their dark eyes were bright with intelligence.
Charles attempted to butt into the conversation, but he did so by describing a horse race. Roland did not believe Lady Serenity had any interest in such things. Her only question about it was if any of the horses had been hurt.
She was such a kind person; of course she would not care for which horse won the race or which gentleman won the purse, but just wished to assure herself that the horseflesh had come through it unscathed.
When that story seemed to go nowhere, Charles said, “I pray it was not presumptuous of me to send that sketch of Nero.”
