Gads, for a child, the girl saw vastly too much.
“Clayton…”
They both froze.
Daria had claimed command of the conversation with the viscount.
The widest, most wicked smile he’d ever seen—which was saying a good deal—tilted Eris’s lips. “Watch this,” she mouthed.
It was as though Eris sent out a silent signal for the rest of the Kearsleys. The quick pitter-patter of soft-slippered heels echoed from all over.
As one, a bevy of girls from Delia on to another two Kearsleys swarmed either side of St. John’s door. Egad, Argyll surrounded by a gaggle of virtuous misses? He shuddered. He’d finally landed himself in a hell on earth.
Ears pressed against various parts of the panel, the trio managed to simultaneously stare at Argyll.
“Yes.” Delia jabbed a damning finger his way. “Him.”
Argyll tensed. Here it came. The end of his sorry existence, fittingly delivered at the hands of vengeful, innocent young ladies.
Salvation came in the unlikeliest forms for a previously confirmed bachelor like Argyll—his wife.
“Clayton, I have sat here while you blustered.”
Argyll’s brows flew up.
“Bl-blustered!” Staid St. John went a’tripping over himself. “By God—”
“Clayton.”
A firm, governess-delivered use of the fellow’s Christian name cut him down.
Argyll nodded slowly.Impressive. And here he’d cast doubts upon her abilities as a duchess. The saucy, stalwart minx had been born for the role.
“When I came to speak with you, Mother, and Sylvia, I anticipated you’d respond in this hysterical way.”
A strange strangled gargling emerged from the viscount’s offices.
Feeling more than a twinge of sympathy for a fellow chap, Argyll stole a concerned peek at his fellow keyhole conspirators.
Giggles filled the corridor.
His commiseration proved fickle. Argyll found himself smiling along with the Kearsley sisters and resumed his post.
“I am a grown woman, Clayton. I know my own mind. I know what I want.”
“And in what world would someone like you who loves deeply, who is dedicated to her family, friends, and good in the world marry a self-serving, raffish bastard like—?”
“That is enough!”
Daria’s rare raised voice sent Argyll sitting upright.
“Knowing how deeply you love me, I have allowed you your fit. I have allowed you to say terrible things about Gregory, things I shouldn’t have tolerated,” Oh, no, she’d been right to. Argyll really was that bad—worse. “But this is where I draw the damned line. You know nothing about the duke.”
“And you do.”
“I know more about him than you do,” she shot back.
Argyll slowly nodded his head in appreciation. Neat sidestep.
