“Yes.” His father remained straight-faced. “The bane of my existence, the pair of you.” He grinned. “Your young lady will no doubt find you difficult, too, if my life with your mother is any indication.”
“She already does, sir.” Wells grimaced. “I fear she won’t have me.”
“She’ll have you,” his father assured him. “Adelaide Enright fought plenty with Benedict Merrinan, but the two always reconciled.”
“And just how would you know this, sir?”
“Visited them plenty. We both lived in Cumberland back then, made him my squire didn’t I—just to keep tabs on him andhis lady wife, mind. Used to take you along to visit. Don’t you recall?”
“No.” Wellesley shook his head, early childhood a blur.
“Well, they fought, trust me, but their quarrels only fueled their fire I suspect.” The Duke looked distant, as if his thoughts wandered. “You say you saw him again—Merrinan—but that he’s no longer of sound mind?”
“Indeed, sir, he flits between times. One minute he’s wholly present but the next he speaks as if his wife still lives. It’s tragic, really, to see how randomly events play out in his head. Nor has it been easy for his daughters to manage him thus.”
“I imagine not.” The Duke looked away. “I’d assumed he was well settled when he retired from being squire. Didn’t even bother to install a new man there as things seemed to run themselves” His father looked pained. “I should have checked on Merrinan and his daughters. I’ve not been in good health for some time, Roland. I’ve let things slide.” He sighed. “But for the Earl of Denbigh to abandon them so . . .” He shook his head. “Damned disgrace, the whole matter.”
“Enright is an arse, yes,” Wells interjected with force.
“Prudish son of a bitch more like it,” his father muttered.
Wells could tell his old man was growing tired. “I’ll stop in again tomorrow, sir, you ought to get some rest.”
But the Duke, unsurprisingly, had already fallen asleep.
“Lord, Miss Charles, but ain’t you the spittin’ image o’ yer mother. Why, when y’ walked in just now I thought I saw a ghost, I did!”
Cook stood by the kitchen’s hearth, arms crossed in satisfaction as Charles dug into her plate with gusto. Staff sat about the table watching her eat—with fascination.
Charles smiled up at the portly old woman, recalling well her delicious fare. “Your dishes, Cook, have only gotten better with the years.”
“Y’ could use some fattenin’ up, child.” The lady’s own frame generously filled the kitchen. “It’s good t’ see yer, miss. We all did think on you an’ yer sister over the years, y’ know.”
“We thought of you, too,” Charles told her. “Eleanor especially, I admit. Christmas was never the same for her after, and being so young still, but a child really, I fear she missed more than just your fine meals.”
“Well, what matters is you’re here now, miss,” Cook indulged. “An’ we’re that glad for it, ain’t we?” she demanded of the staff, most of whom had no idea who Charles was, but who all nodded in vigorous agreement.
All of which changed the instant the Countess swept in.
“What is the meaning of this?” Lady Enright stopped in her tracks. “Hopkins!” Her tone was sharp, directed at Cook. “Why is my granddaughter not being served breakfast upstairs in the dining room?”
Charles swiftly interjected. “Because I prefer to dine downstairs,Grand-mère,as befits my station.”
“Charles,” her grandmother intoned, “a word,now.”
“Whatever you wish to say to me can be said here.” She continued to blithely eat, ignoring her grandmother.
Lady Enright scowled before she snapped her fingers, dismissing her staff who scurried like so many mice. Then she pulled out a chair across from Charles and stiffly seated herself.
“My dear, I realize you are?—”
“You realizenothing.” Charles lost her temper, insides ablaze. She hadn’t known such rage as still harbored in herbreast. “I don’t know what Lord Wellesley told you to make you take me in, Lady Enright, but I amnotstaying in this house with you, and I refuse to acknowledge you as family.”
Her grandmother’s lips thinned. “I am not surprised by your anger, Charles, but you really must learn to curb your temper now that Lord Wellesley has offered for you.”
“So thatiswhy I am here, is it? How rich.” She shook her head. “How perfectly rich, all of it,” she muttered, stabbing a fresh forkful of egg.
“My dear,” her grandmother soothed, “it is a great honor indeed that his lordship should court you now, considering how?—”
