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“The Duchess of Aspen?” she repeated in an even lower voice than Richard had used. “What could you possibly want with a married Duchess?”
“The same thing I’d want with an unmarried one.”
“Richard.”
Their mother’s tone brooked no more flippancy.
Samuel sighed and pushed his spectacles up on his nose.
“I merely seek an introduction to her sister, Mother,” Richard finally grumbled. “Her unmarried sister.”
“Miss Roslyn Ellsworth? She is exceedingly lovely.”
“Not lovely enough to make a man forget that she is three and twenty and horrendously dull.”
“Richard, shush,” Mother hissed.
Samuel stole a glance at their nearest neighbours but the three young ladies, parasols touching as they clustered together, didn’t falter in their animated conversation.
“Well, she is, Mother,” Richard muttered. “All three of the older sisters are. I can’t imagine why a Duke would marry someone so boring that the most the gossip rags have to say is that she enjoys reading. He could have anyone.”
“Well then, you must mean Miss Marie Ellsworth.”
“I do.”
Their mother didn’t sound pleased. Samuel couldn’t imagine what the young woman could have done that would keep his mother from leaping at the chance to see Richard wed.
“And you wish to make her acquaintance with fully honourable intentions?” Mother pressed and Samuel realised that it wasn’t the young lady their mother doubted, but Richard.
“Certainly.”
All censure left their mother’s expression.
“Oh, Richard, that’s wonderful news.” She beamed up at her firstborn son. “Well, then, I can make the introduction. I can see the Duchess this moment, beside the Dowager Duchess, with whom I happen to be acquainted. Give me your arm.”
Before Richard could proffer the appendage, Samuel caught his shoulder.
“You can’t mean to go through with this.”
“It is my very purpose for being here, little brother. It’s time I did my duty by our family.” Richard pulled out of Samuel’s grip and proffered his arm to their mother.
“What an extraordinary turn of events,” their mother gushed as she looped her arm through Richard’s. “Oh, Richard, I’m so happy for you. This is my proudest day as a mother. I’d begun to worry you’d never settle.”
Samuel trailed them, teeth clenched shut. How could Richard mean to entangle some poor young woman in his affairs when he could be apprehended for theft, perhaps even treason, at any moment? Or was this business of taking up his familial responsibilities merely a ruse? Did Richard hope to have ties to the influential Duke of Aspen before his purloining came to light? The youngest sister, naive and exuberant, would be the easiest to lure into a quick union. If the worst came to pass and Richard were charged, the Duke of Aspen, pressed by a beloved new wife distressed on behalf of her sister, might have the power and influence to get Richard out of the mess he’d created. And Richard would need all the influence he could muster if the court decided that interfering with a general during wartime was treason, even if only a personal journal had been taken.
Their mother walked Richard up to a tall woman gowned in an archaic, wide-skirted black gown. Even in profile, slate grey hair and a stern Roman nose gave the Dowager Duchess a formidable look.
“Your Graces,” Mother said and dropped into a curtsey, to which Richard added a bow.
The Dowager Duchess turned, revealing a petite young woman clad in a much more vibrant and modish gown. Curled, glossy brown locks framed dark grey eyes set wide in a purely angelic face. A smile turned up her lips, as if she preferred to believe she’d be pleased with meeting strangers, rather than the opposite.
Samuel folded into a bow, hoping that the obeisance hid his shock at coming across such a vision of perfection. At least now he had the answer to his brother’s quandary over the Duke wedding a bookish woman. Not that Samuel agreed with Richard’s assessment that such a wife would bore a man. Rather, it would add interest and kinship to marry a woman with a quick and ready mind. Someone with whom a gentleman could converse.
Samuel could picture armchairs set on either side of a fireplace, in a room where the walls were fully obscured by shelf after shelf of books. Long evenings spent reading. Dinners over which to discuss the new knowledge of the day.
“And this is my younger son, Samuel.”
Samuel performed a second bow, murmuring, “Your Graces.”
