Page 18 of At His Lady’s Command

“My lady,” he said hoarsely, his hand tightening on his fork. “I…”

“Good morning, you two!” said Kitty as she strolled into the breakfast room, the dowager and Halstead in her wake. “Portia, you must be thrilled. Did you see the flowers? All for you!”

“I saw,” said Lady Portia shortly.

The dowager smiled. “So many men vying for your attention. I do declare, it reminds me of my younger years before I accepted dear Halstead’s proposal. I made him so very happy when I said yes. Portia was cross at first, after having her father’s attention for so long, but we became such a close family. And you can imagine my husband’s joy when I bore him a son. A longed-for heir at last. Soon, you’ll know that fulfillment also, Portia, when you are a wife and mother.”

Taking a deliberate sip of her tea, her stepdaughter said nothing.

A footman tapped at the door. “Excuse me, but I have a note from His Grace, the Duke of Fairfield—”

“I told you!” Halstead burst out excitedly. “I told you, Kitty. We are further on the rise.”

“Beg pardon, my lord, but the note is for Captain Denham. And the runner is awaiting a reply.”

The room went silent, and three pairs of eyes turned on him with shocked resentment, one pair with curiosity, as the footman delivered the note. But Randall took no joy or satisfaction in being the recipient. He wanted nothing to do with whatever malicious chess game Fairfield might be playing, first attending the ball, then sending a missive. For the duke did nothing by chance.

Handling the thick, expensive cream parchment like a rotting carcass, Randall opened it and read quickly. Then he shook his head at the footman. “Alas, I am unable to attend His Grace today or any other, as I have prior commitments. Please convey my regrets.”

“Are you mad, Denham?” spluttered the marquess, the sound of his fork clattering onto his plate equally jarring to the ears. “You won’t have a position here soon, and Fairfield’s patronage would open every door in England.”

That might be true, but he would accept assistance from the devil himself before asking Fairfield again. The duke’s gifts came with so many strings attached they may as well be marionettes, and he enjoyed the power of bestowing and collecting favors. Almost as much as he enjoyed discarding those who were no longer useful. The only thing he hadn’t been able to control was his wife’s barrenness; when he eventually cocked up his toes the dukedom would pass to a cousin.

“Indeed, my lord,” Randall said steadily. “But some patronage is not worth the cost.”

He regretted the words as soon as he said them, for Halstead muttered about the daftness of soldiers, Kitty and the dowager exchanged a look of well-bred disdain, and Lady Portia stared at him with an expression he knew all too intimately: that if she got him alone, he would be subject to an interrogation worthy of any barrister.

Eventually, when the silence grew uncomfortable, Lady Portia cleared her throat. “So. What is on the schedule for today? I’m sure it will be…delightful.”

Halstead glared at her. “I have an appointment with my banker.”

The dowager leaned forward. “With Portia residing here, she really doesn’t need her own account. You should instruct your banker to close it. No doubt her future husband will open a new one for her, it will surely be only a matter of weeks after all.”

“That is true, Mother. Good thinking. I’ll be transferring the dowry payment to her husband anyway. Right and proper for men to take care of such matters. Finances are simply too complex for women to understand.”

“Poppycock,” said Portia. “One day we will all mind our own affairs. Perhaps even vote.”

Kitty gasped. “Vote? Oh no. How silly. We don’t need that, our men look after us.”

“Ha. Most men look out entirely for themselves.”

“Portia. Really, dear. No ugly reformist talk at the table. We must go and dress in preparation for being at home to callers, I am sure we’ll have a full house today. Come along, I shall instruct Marie to curl your hair again. It looked so fetching last night.”

Randall exchanged a glance with Lady Portia, and he stifled a smile at the glint in her eyes. It seemed his lover had plans for the unwitting men about to come calling.

She rose to her feet. “Denham, you’ll stay to keep the peace?”

Randall bowed. In truth, he feared for the lives of Kitty and the dowager, not to mention the peers who would darken the doorstep in a matter of hours.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Chapter 5

“I regret, my lady, we may not suit after all. Good day.”

Portia nodded sadly at the older peer as he bowed and scurried out of the drawing room. All she’d done was talk about the Ancient Romans, how could she have known the man might turn green at hearing a tale of blood sacrifices and orgies with whips and dildos as they took a turn about the room?

Prospective husbands these days. No backbone whatsoever.