“Yes, years ago now. I do not wish to reminisce.”Madamereturned to business. “Come tomorrow and look your best, flirt with every gentleman who enters, and throw in a little French. Style your hair loose, show something of your shape. Within a day or two, you will have more than enough offers to choose from.”
Only Charles had no intention of choosing anything of the sort. She intended to simply work at the shop and save whatever pittanceMadamepaid her. It was a job, after all, and she would have taken any job offered her right then.
Well, almost any.
“Bien, Madame.” She bobbed her head, curtsied, and quickly exited the shop, noting how Madame LeBrecht gazed after her through the window.
It gave her chills.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
“Father.” Wells took the Duke’s hand in his own. “It is good to see you, Your Grace.” He looked down at him, more than a little alarmed by his shrunken state. This was not the man he remembered from even six months ago.
“Roland.” The Duke smiled, gripping Wells’s hand weakly. “You’ve come home, son.” He did not let go the hand.
Wells was surprised by such affection and worried the Duke was indeed not long for this world. “I am in London for a license, father, a marriage license, but I do not intend to stay long.”
“Oh?” His interest was piqued. “And who’s the lucky lady?” He tried to laugh but it came out a little choked. “Your mother wear you down, did she?” He regained his voice.
Wells found himself smiling. “She did, or rather, the lady in question wore out my heart.”
His father searched his eyes. “You’re in love with the girl? Who is she?”
“Charles Merrinan, sir.” Wells waited for a reaction.
“By God, the eldest Merrinan daughter! Is she as beautiful as her mother was? I would have given my eyeteeth for that strawberry-haired vixen, but she had her heart set on BenedictMerrinan. Never mind I’d a title and wealth and he had neither . . .” His voice faded with his memories.
“And here I thought you married Mother for love, sir.”
“Ha!” The Duke struggled a moment for breath. “Respect, boy. I married your mother for respect. One hell of a woman, but I can’t say I loved her, no.”
It was the most his father had ever said on the topic of marriage.
It was also no surprise.
The Duke continued his questioning. “And Benedict Merrinan? Give you his blessing, did he?”
“In a fashion, yes.” Wells chose not to elaborate.
“Good then.” The Duke closed his eyes a moment, for rest or from pain it was hard to tell.
“Father . . .”
“Hmm?”
“Did you love again—after marryingMaman?”
“Oh, I suppose I loved several,” he admitted. “One in particular I kept for close to ten years. She and your mother got along rather well.”
“AndMamanwas not jealous of her? Or of others?”
“You thinking already to take a mistress once you marry, son?”
“No.” Wells’s retort was quick. “I simply fear Charles is currently less than enamored of my suit, sir.”
“Vex her much, did you?” His father chuckled. “If she’s anything like her mother, the girl’s got a temper. A temper and a mouth and a way of bewitching a man that’s nigh unholy.”
Wells nodded his agreement. “I worry she won’t come round, sir, title and wealth be damned.”
