“Pretty Song Book,” the duke finished.
“Tommy Thumb's Pretty Song Book,”Waverly echoed, torn between being aghast and thoroughly amused. In the end, he grinned and shook his head.
“Yes,” Pelham said, lifting his chin, “we have both been memorizing the songs.”
Charles didn’t have the heart to make fun of him. “I think that’s wonderful. You will make a good father, and your duchess will make a fine mother.”
The three fell silent. His good friends knew how his own mother had turned out — not the best, to be exact — and had made an even worse wife to his father. After a moment, Pelham asked, “What about you?”
Charles frowned. “What about me?”
“Come along, Jeffcoat, isn’t it time you leaped into the marital abyss?” the duke asked.
Since that was so close to his own thoughts, he couldn’t dismiss the question or laugh it off, and Waverly caught the scent of a juicy tale immediately.
“Why, I believe our Jeffcoat does in fact have someone in mind with whom he wishes to leap into that infernal abyss. Look at him, Pelham,” Waverly insisted. “He can hardly concentrate on his food for fawning over some miss.”
Charles blinked at them both, gathering his thoughts, ready to tell them.
“I do believe you are right,” Pelham said, his tone not in jest like their friend’s.
“He is right,” Charles confessed. “There is a female whom I fancy. I’m not sure...,” he trailed off.What part of his doubts should he disclose?
“No one is ever sure,” Pelham said, and his simple words made Charles feel better.
“That’s true,” Waverly joined in. “I remember Pelham here thinking his duchess might love another man, then he thought her in love with her chocolate or some such nonsense. In the end, we all knew they were perfect for one another. So what about you?”
Charles sipped his wine again. Once he told them, there would be no retrieving it. He fixed Pelham with his gaze. “I fancy myself attracted to your sister-in-law, as it turns out.”
But it was Waverly who barked out a laugh. “That ship has sailed. She’s been taken!”
“What do you mean?” Suddenly, Charles wondered if they were aware of Miss Rare-Foure’s having already entered into an arrangement of which he hadn’t heard.
“Well, she married that American in case you missed it.”
“No,” Pelham said. “I believe he means my other sister-in-law.”
“Oh,” Waverly said. Then he grinned. “The buxom one?”
Charles wanted to wipe the smile off his friend’s face, but there was no denying Charlotte was well-endowed. He nodded.
“Isn’t she a bit young?” Pelham asked.
“I don’t think so.” Charles frowned. “You do know she’s about to turn twenty.”
The duke’s visage brightened. “Is she? Good lord, I thought her to be about sixteen. Well, that’s all right, then. Otherwise, I was going to have to step in on behalf of her absent father.”
Waverly continued smiling. “How long has your flame been burning for our saucy shopgirl?”
Charles shrugged, ignoring the ridiculous moniker. “I’ve admired her appearance since the first time we met, I suppose. That must have been a couple years ago, you know, at Pelham’s party. But lately, I have come to appreciate her many fine qualities.”
Waverly laughed. “At least a couple of them.”
“Here now!” Pelham warned him. “She’s my family now.”
Charles knew there was no point in trying to tame their rakish friend, so he ignored him. “Miss Rare-Foure is friendly,” he began. “You can tell how she likes people by the way she treats the customers. Not a sharp barb to her tongue.” Except for that day when he’d witnessed her unusual behavior, not her normal self at all. Even then her tone had been more listless than harsh. “And she seems to have a way about her. You should have seen how she tamed my father’s irascibility—”
“Your father?” Pelham interrupted. “How did she run into your father?”
