he has seldom come out from under the bottle. Worse yet, he has given up all rights to his ward.”
Ada’s chest seized. “What?”
“I’m afraid it’s true,” he murmured. “He claimed that he could no longer care for a child when he wasn’t able to do so for himself.”
Instead of playing into the duke’s sympathy over the situation, anger began to boil inside her. “That is nothing but selfishness on his part! Arabella loved him! How could he just give her up like that without so much as a flick of his wrist?”
“I have been wont to wonder that myself.”
It was in that moment that Ada realized what the true purpose of his visit was. It was as if all the wheels of the cog in her brain began to click into place and make sense. With a gasp, she covered her mouth with her hand. “Dear heavens, what have I done? I’ve been so foolish.”
As her eyes began to fill with tears, the duke smiled. “It’s not too late to repair what’s been done.”
“You’re absolutely right.” She opened the door to see the Wyndam coach stop before the house. The duke was forgotten as she addressed the driver. “Change of plans. Take me to Lord Effington’s townhouse immediately.” She lifted her skirts and climbed inside the carriage.
Brandt was sitting in the parlor while Arabella sat staring out the window. She was bouncing up and down in her seat, barely able to contain her excitement, and Brandt would be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling very much the same. With any luck, the plan he’d concocted with Argyle would work. If not, then he supposed he would have to find some other way of drawing Ada out of her shell. But he knew time had been running out, because he’d heard that she was planning to live at the Manor on a full-time basis. If she made it there, he knew that nothing short of an earthquake would shake her from her position. Although he admired her devotion to the Wicked Widows’ Club, he wanted her to be interested in him and Arabella even more.
“Ooh!”
At the sound of Arabella’s excitement, Brandt jumped up from his chair and joined her at the window. “What is it?”
“A big coach! With a crest!” she said happily.
Brandt’s own enthusiasm diminished, because he knew that large contraption didn’t belong to Argyle—or anyone else he knew. But when the door opened and a familiar lady stepped down to the ground, his pulse began beating rapidly.
He quickly ducked out of sight, and took Arabella with him, lest Ada glance up and see two faces in the window. “It’s Mrs. Givens. You know what that means.”
“I go hide while you love her!” She jumped to the floor and rushed out of sight.
When she was gone, Brandt had to grin. If he was alone with the comely widow, he would enjoy nothing more than “loving her,” but until he was granted that permission, he would have to content himself with convincing her to marry him, all while playing the worthless sod.
He walked over to the sideboard and poured a brandy, tossing it back. And then he poured another. He had to ensure his breath smelled like he’d been drinking heavily. Now all he had to do was make the performance of his life.
No problem.
“Have you taken leave of your senses?”
The irate voice that sounded behind him was enough for Brandt to genuinely choke on his drink. He turned around and the bleary-eyed expression he likely had wasn’t fabricated. He was still trying to bring enough air into his lungs when he wheezed, “Pardon me?”
“Don’t play the fool with me, Clarke.”
His brows lifted at the firm command in her tone. He’d never known her to speak to him in this manner. And yet, he was feeling slightly aroused by the high color on her cheeks and the dangerous flash in those green eyes. Combined with the fact she’d called him by his last name alone…
He cleared his throat. “I—”
She held up a hand. “I’m going to stop you right there if all you intend to do is try to feed me more lies. I know what you’ve done, and I highly disapprove.”
At this point, Brandt was confused. “About what?”
“Arabella!” she snapped.
His brain finally caught up with his cock. “Oh.” He tried to adopt a mocking smile, but more likely it came out as a grimace. “You heard about that, did you?”
“Your friend, the Duke of Argyle, paid me a special visit.”
He must have been very convincing, Brandt thought, because it looked as though she might skewer him alive where he stood. “I daresay it’s not your decision to make when it comes to what I do with my ward. I no longer felt as though I could properly ensure her care.”
“And why not?” she demanded. “You told me yourself that her behavior was improving.
