“Do you not wish to look extra special for Lord Kirkston?”
“Bad form, Seri.” Merry spotted Fipps entering the parlor and went after him. “Do not try to manipulate me by using Duncan as bait.”
“It will get us out of this house the remainder of the afternoon,” Serendipity said. “Or do you prefer to remain here and entertain the vainglorious Lord Brixham?”
Merry came to a full stop, wrinkling her nose at that prospect. “Dropping in on Madame Couire is definitely the preferable choice.”
“Very well. Let us advise Fipps to speak to Frogsden, and then we shall be on our way.”
*
“Who is LadyAtterley?” Duncan eyed the invitation to a Valentine’s Day ball as though it were about to bite him.
“The grande dame of theton.” Malcolm sorted through the rest of the unopened correspondence piled in the middle of Duncan’s desk. “She always gives the first ball of the Season. It is understood.”
Duncan tossed the paper his way. “This must be for yerself or Mother.”
Malcolm flipped the sheet of fine paper over and tapped on the name and address. “The Most Honorable, the Marquess of Kirkston.” With his usual irritating smugness, he grinned. “That is not me.”
Pawing through the pile of notes and letters, Duncan searched for one with the same flowery script, found it, and tossed it at him. “There. That one is addressed to ye.”
Malcolm grinned. “Extravagant lady. She didn’t wish to miss either of us. Lady Atterley has the most agreeable soirees. They are not to be missed.” He tucked the invitation inside his coat pocket. “I can assure ye Lady Merry will be there.”
Duncan sagged back in the chair, unable to believe so many had already sent invitations for engagements. How the bloody hell had they known he would be in London? He rubbed his tired, gritty eyes, wishing he’d left the ledgers and correspondence for another day. Today’s only saving grace was that he had promised himself to call upon Lady Merry as soon as possible.
The tightness in his chest eased at the very thought of her. It was his hope, now that they were in Town, that he could convince her to make their feelings official with an engagement. They might not have known each other long, and he knew he wasn’t worthy of her, but damn if he could force himself to let her go to another man.
He touched his cheek, remembering her farewell kiss. “How can ye be so certain Merry will be there?”
“Her brother, the duke, is an eligible bachelor, and Merry and her sister are not only eligible to be brides, but most desirable because oftheir dowries. The Broadmeres are invited to every engagement. To do otherwise would be an unforgivable slight and start one’s demise within theton.”
“Merry is no longer eligible.” Duncan straightened, butted the correspondence bin up against the edge of the desk, and shoveled the papers into it. “We are courting. Here. Ye go through the rest of this shite. I did the ledgers. Make yerself useful.”
Ignoring the bin, Malcolm shook his head. “No one knows about yerself and the lovely Lady Merry yet. She must be seen in yer company and dance with ye more than twice at the same party.”
Duncan squinted at his brother. “Who makes up these feckin’ rules?”
Malcolm shrugged. “I dinna ken. I just know what they are to try to protect myself from being trapped by them.”
“Trapped?”
“Aye, trapped. Marriage-minded mamas and their debutantes are relentless. Remember old Maclayton’s daughter, and how she trapped that husband of hers?” Malcolm shook his head. “Poor bugger. He’s fair miserable, that one is.”
Duncan shuddered, remembering the shrewish woman well. “Aye, may God have mercy on his soul. Be careful, brother.”
“Dinna fash yerself about that.”
Rising to stretch his cramped muscles after sitting at the desk for hours, Duncan shook off the tension and weariness and started toward the door.
“Where do ye think ye’re going?” Malcolm asked. “Mother will be having tea shortly.”
“I told ye earlier. I intend to call on Merry.”
“Today?”
“Well, of course today. What is wrong with today?”
Malcolm shook a finger, making Duncan ready to snap it off at the knuckle. “This is the week before the start of the Season. The weekwhen everyone who is anyone returns to Town. It is rude and inconsiderate to go calling when folk are trying to reopen their houses.”
