“Of course I did. You know my temper.”
“I think I should fetch more sandwiches,” Felicity said, “and tell Mrs. Flackney we need tea and cakes.”
“And maybe even some brandy,” Merry added.
“At least there has been no sign he tattled to Chance,” Joy said.
“But he may plan to,” Serendipity said. She turned to Felicity. “When you go down for more sandwiches, check the basket onthe entryway table. See if there are any messages from the Duke of Wolfebourne. I believe their crest has wolves on it.”
“It does,” Grace said. “We saw his coach when we reached the village.”
“What if Walters already delivered the notes directly to Chance in the library?” Felicity fisted her hands so tightly that her knuckles went white.
Merry went to the door and waved for her to follow. “Between the two of us, we can distract him and see if anything is on his desk.”
Felicity nodded, then hurried out behind her.
Serendipity eyed Grace as if plotting her demise.
“For heaven’s sake, Seri, speak your mind. Your scowling silence is deafening.” Grace poked Joy again. “And if you do not wipe that wicked smile off your face, I shall pinch you.”
“Chance would be thrilled for you to marry a duke,” Joy taunted her.
“The man is betrothed,” Serendipity said. “Has been since he was a young boy. I believe her name is Lady Margaret. Daughter of an earl. Her father is dead, but it’s my understanding that he provided quite well for his widow and only child.”
“The duke is graying at the temples and doesn’t look to be young,” Grace said. “If he has been betrothed to her since he was a young boy, why haven’t they married yet?”
Serendipity assumed the look that struck fear into all the sisters—the sly, plotting look, like a cat toying with its prey until ready to kill it. “It’s my understanding the Duke of Wolfebourne is not in any hurry to visit the altar. Perhaps in hopes of Lady Margaret quietly breaking the engagement out of boredom and the wish to get on with her life.”
“Can he not break it off?” Grace knew Serendipity would know. Her sister’s ability to know the thoughts and whisperings of thetonas if they were her own never ceased to amaze her.“Is the man that chivalrous or simply a coward?” The duke had seemed quite awkward in the shop.
“Ifhebreaks it off, Lady Margaret and her mother could sue him for breach of promise,” Serendipity said. “While I do not believe Lady Margaret would be so inclined, her mother is known to be quite cold-blooded.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice as if the walls might repeat her secrets. “I have heard it said Lady Margaret favors another, but her mother insists she marry the duke.”
“Whom does she favor?” Grace whispered.
“ThatI have not been able to discover.” Serendipity gave an irritated huff, then frowned at the parcels on the table. “While we wait for Felicity and Merry to report back, shall we inspect these parcels from the unknown sender? Surely the Mettlestones would never take it upon themselves to choose items for Rorie and Quill and send them on.”
“I did ask them to deliver the banners for the picnic,” Grace said. “Those should have been charged to our account. But I told them we would return another time and choose items for the little ones. Open the one that saysa gift.Perhaps that will give us a clue.”
Serendipity untied the twine and tore away the brown wrapping, revealing another layer, a length of gorgeous deep blue silk. “Lovely,” she said in a leery tone. Ever so gingerly, she unwound the yardage of the fine material until the pair of buff-colored buckskins dropped into her lap. With a puckered moue, she lifted her head and locked eyes with Grace. “I believe these are probably meant for you, dear sister.”
Grace stared at the damning breeches and swallowed hard, knowing the gift for exactly what it was—a declaration of war. “It is him. The Duke of Wolfebourne sent everything. Who else would dare send a pair of buckskins in that size to our home?”
“Who, indeed.” Serendipity nodded at the parcels for the children. “But how would he know about Rorie and Quill?”
“We mentioned them in front of him,” Joy said, “and I am quite certain the Mettlestones happily filled him in on all the rest.”
Grace carefully unwrapped the parcel meant for Aurora and revealed the lovely cloth doll, perfect for a little one to cuddle and throw when tiny tempers flared. Her insides fluttered, and she swallowed hard, fighting to stanch any warming toward the man. “He chose well for our little niece.” She unwrapped the other parcel and smiled at the brightly painted toy soldiers. “Quill is a bit young for these, but he should enjoy the colors.”
Serendipity opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted when Felicity and Merry burst back into the room and slammed the door shut behind them.
“We intercepted a note to Chance,” Merry said. “From the duke.”
“He is coming to dinner tonight,” Felicity said, her ample bosom heaving as she tried to catch her breath. “And he asked to bring Lady Margaret and Lady Longmorten.”
“Well, he would,” Grace said. “He couldn’t very well accept a dinner invitation and leave them at the lodge, since they are staying with him.” She turned to Serendipity. “Could he? And did you know anything about guests invited to dinner tonight?”
Serendipity chewed on the corner of her bottom lip while scowling at the toys on the table. “Chance may have mentioned something, but I’ve been so busy planning the picnic that I let whatever he says go in one ear and out the other without pausing in between.” She shifted her attention to Felicity and Merry. “What did you do with the duke’s response? Were you careful to leave it where Chance could find it and reply in time for tonight?”
