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“That’s enough, March,” Nick warned. “Go back inside.”
He didn’t mind March’s incivility—the man had been born with enough disadvantages to give him the right to grouse—but Lady Tombs was about to have an attack of nerves on his front steps.
“My heavens,” Lady Tombs sputtered. “That is the rudest servant I’ve ever had the misfortune of coming in contact with.”
“My sincere apologies,” Nick said. “We don’t often entertain polite company.”
And he wasn’t about to entertain them further.
When Nick invited guests to Sunderland they always arrived after dark and left before the dawn. They saw only what he wanted them to see—the spectacle, the illusions.
His new in-laws would have to become accustomed to the idea that he didn’t follow society’s rules.
Before Nick could send them away, the duke hobbled through the doorway with Berthold lumbering close behind. “Hello there, who’s this?” He eyed Lady Tombs. “Madam, you are a vision most welcome. An angel come to earth.”
Lady Tombs, somewhat mollified by this turn of events, smiled at Nick’s father. “Your Grace?”
“Yes, ’tis I.” The duke attempted a sweeping bow and had to clutch Berthold’s arm for support. “Barrington, at your pleasure, madam. And you are...” He lifted his brows.
“Lady Agatha Tombs. The new Lady Hatherly’s mother. So very pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Grace. I was so very disappointed you were unable to attend the wedding. It was a most elegant affair. The very height of elegance! There are hundreds of pearls embroidered upon Lady Hatherly’s gown. Everyone pronounced the gown a triumph.”
Pearls sewn along the bodice and tiny pearl buttons marching down the back.
Nick had been imagining unfastening them for the last two hours.
Which was not an appropriate thought to have while standing in skin-tight pantaloons in front of the lady’s easily perturbed mother.
Though the father would no doubt approve, since he’d made abundantly clear in the settlement that the marriage must be legitimized before he handed over a farthing. Sir Alfred was a businessman first and foremost. And he wanted to secure his investment.
“Oh come now, you can’t be her mother,” the duke chided. “You must be her elder sister. Your satin curls have the very same luster and your cheeks the very same blush.” He reached for her hand and kissed the air above her gloved knuckles. “Beautiful, beautiful Agatha. Lovely lady. You remind me of my cher amie Marie Antoinette.”
Sir Alfred frowned. “Your Grace, we really must be going now.”
“Fie, Duke, how you flatter me,” Lady Tombs said with a delighted little giggle.
The duke grinned with a hint of his former debonair charm. “I’ll flatter you more if you come with me to my orchid conservatory where we may converse in private. The blooms have a delightful scent and their forms are quite... suggestive.” He waggled his eyebrows.
Lady Tombs gulped. “Er...”
She had the dazed look of a lady who’d been insulted by a footman and propositioned by a mad duke in the space of two minutes.
“Now see here,” Sir Alfred said. “This is my wife, Your Grace.”
Alice flung Nick a panicked look.
“Come dear,” said Sir Alfred stormily. “I shall convey you home if there is to be no breakfast.”
“No breakfast,” Nick said firmly.
He’d agreed to the public ceremony but he’d refused to host or attend a wedding breakfast.
“Be good, dear,” Lady Tombs said in a tremulous voice, darting Nick a half-terrified look, as if she’d only now realized she must relinquish her beloved daughter to the likes of him.
Alice kissed her mother on the cheek and smiled at her father. “You needn’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Come, Mama, don’t trouble yourself so.” Alice helped her mother tie the feathered and beribboned millinery back on her head.
“Your daughter will be quite safe with me,” Nick vowed.
At least she’d be safe from lions.
