Chapter One
Warwickshire, England, April 1822
The Dowager Countess of Marwood could be a formidable enemy if she so chose. Her mere presence dared one to take her lightly so she might have an excuse to rain destruction, just for fun.
Adam Penrose, Duke of Stratton, knew at once what he had in her.
He had called at her grandson the earl’s country estate at her request.Let us attempt to bury the past, she had written,and allow bygones to be bygones between our families.
He had come, curious to see how she hoped to accomplish that, considering that some of those bygones were not gone at all. One look at her and he knew that whatever plan she had concocted, it would not benefithim.
The lady kept him waiting a half hour before entering the chamber herself. She finally sailed into the drawing room, angled forward, head high, her ample bosom leading the way, like a figure on a ship’s prow.
Mourning for her son, the late earl, forced her into black garments, but her crepe ensemble must have cost hundreds. Abundant gray curls decorated her head, suggesting that she also mourned the dead fashion for wigs. Shallow, large, pale blue eyes examined her caller with a critical gaze while an artificial smile deepened the wrinkles of her long face.
“So, you have returned.” She announced the obvious when they sat on two sturdy chairs, after his short bow and her shorter curtsy.
“It was time.”
“One might say it was time three years ago, or two, or even several years hence.”
“One might, but I did not.”
She chortled. Her whole face pursed, not only her lips. “You have been in France a long time. You even look French now.”
“At least half so, I assume, considering my parentage.”
“And how is your dear mother?”
“Happy in Paris. She has many friends there.”
The dowager’s eyebrows rose just enough to express sardonic amusement. “Yes, I expect she does. It is a wonder she did not marry you off to one of her own kind.”
“I think a British match would suit me better. Don’t you?”
“Indeed I do. It will help you enormously.”
He did not want to discuss his mother or the reasons why a solid match would help. “You wrote of bygones. Perhaps you will enlighten me regarding that.”
She opened her hands, palms up, in a gesture of confusion. “The animosity between our families is so old that one wonders how it even started. It is so unnecessary. So unfortunate. We are county neighbors, after all. Surely we can rise above it if we choose to.”
Unable to sit and listen to her blithe references to that history, he stood and paced to the long windows. They overlooked a spectacular garden and on to the hills beyond, not far away. The house and its immediate grounds occupied a shallow valley.
“How do you suggest we do that?” He asked the question while he corralled the bitterness in his mind. The dowager knew damned well why the recent animosity had started and probably knew about the older history too. To acknowledge any of that would make her peace offering peculiar, however.We stole your property and savaged your mother and helped drive your father to his death, but you should rise above that now.
He turned to see her watching him. She appeared puzzled, as if he had done something unexpected and she could not determine if he had won a point without her knowing it.
He raised his eyebrows, to encourage her to speak.
“I propose that we resolve this the ancient way. In the manner of political dynasties down through time,” she said. “I believe that our families should join through marriage.”
He barely avoided revealing his astonishment. He had not expected this, of all possible overtures. She did not merely suggest a truce, but rather an alliance bound by the strongest ties. The kind of alliance that might keep him from pursuing the truth about this family’s role in his father’s death, or seeking revenge if he learned his suspicions about the last earl were correct.
“Since I do not have a sister for your grandson, I assume you have set your sights on me.”
“My grandson has a sister who will suit you perfectly. Emilia is all any man could ask for and would make a perfect duchess for you.”
“You speak with great confidence, yet you have no idea whatthisman would ask for.”
