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“And just wh
en do you think this will take place?”
“As soon as I bellow down the hallway,” Ashley replied. Wilkins would take great pride in ruffling the duchess’s feathers.
“That man hates me,” she grunted. “When I’m in residence, I’ll expect him to treat me as befits my station.”
“He’ll treat you as well as you treat him, Mother.”
“I’d prefer being dropped into a vat of hot oil over being nice to that man.” She jumped to her feet and headed for the door.
“I’m certain that can be arranged,” Ashley called to her retreating back.
Three
The duchess arrived the following afternoon in a flurry of activity. Ashley leaned against the newel post and surveyed the staff who scurried up and down the corridors of his home.
“How did you do it so quickly?” Ashley asked, shaking his head in wonder.
“Sheer strength of will, Your Grace,” Wilkins replied with a haughty smirk.
“One would think you’d be hesitant to take on such a task, since doing so means you’ll have to see Mother on a daily basis.” Then Ashley caught the direction of Wilkins’s gaze as he stared at his mother’s housekeeper, whose bottom was in the air as she rummaged through an open trunk. “The effort could come with a boon, it would seem?” Ashley tossed in casually.
The man’s face flushed for a moment. But only for a moment. “I certainly hope it will be worth it,” he finally said with a grin.
“At least one of us might get to enjoy the favors of a benevolent lass,” Ashley lamented.
This caught his butler’s attention. “I can send a message to—”
Ashley held up a hand to stop his offer. The last time Wilkins had arranged for an assignation, Ashley had found himself with a beguiling lady, one who quaked in her slippers at the very sight of him. It simply wasn’t worth the effort. They were all the same, be they barmaids, wenches, whores, or members of the gentry. They all saw him as tarnished. As fearsome. As the dangerous Duke of Robinsworth.
Ashley clapped Wilkins on the back with a smile. “Good luck with that little piece of baggage,” he said with a good-natured chuckle as his very staid and very proper butler picked up a valise and followed the housekeeper down the corridor. Wilkins never carried baggage. It was well beneath his station. Yet, it was quite apparent that performing below his station might yield some results beneath the housekeeper’s skirts.
The very thought brought Ashley’s mind back to the comely little lass he’d met in the park that afternoon. Little wasn’t a good description at all. She was tiny compared to him. Tall by most standards, she came up to his chin. He could probably tuck her beneath his chin and hold her close.
“Robin,” interrupted a voice from the doorway. He turned and found his mother, her face red with what he assumed must be anger. “Why is that Wilkins insists on interrupting my beauty rest?”
He raised one brow. “Because he enjoys torturing you?”
“He could at least have waited until after luncheon.”
“Where would the humor be in that?”
“I hope you don’t regret your decision to bring me here,” she said.
“Regret having my mother under my roof?” He already regretted it. But he continued smoothly. “Never.”
His mother’s smile suddenly brightened. “I had the most wonderful idea last night when I was discussing my new accommodations with some friends.”
“Crying over” would probably be a more apt description of this discussion. Or “hysterically wailing.” “I assume you plan to tell me of your idea?” he prompted.
“I plan to have a house party,” she answered, the smile on her face evidence that she was immensely pleased with herself.
“Absolutely not,” he bit out. Of course she would want a house party. His mother had always lived to entertain.
“You could allow me to tell you why, Robin,” she sniffed, “before you say no.”
He took a deep breath. A room full of nosy gentlemen and ladies, all of whom would attend if for no other reason than to get a glimpse of the dangerous Duke of Robinsworth. “Why do you want to have a house party at my home, Mother?” he acquiesced.
