“The fact is, you will court her instead,” Milton decided. “You will pose as a respectable suitor”—he amended his words at the look on Arty’s face—“fine,alternativesuitor, to create competition for her hand and drive this other fellow off. And as she’ll need an excuse to leave her father’s house to keep your books, you can court her in public and in private set her to work in your office. Done.”
Arty’s jaw slacked.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Milton scowled. “It is the most obvious way to?—”
“An’ what if I’m courtin’ someone else?”
Milton scoffed. “Arty, you plow through stage girls like other men plow through drink. You are not seriously courting any woman.”
His friend flinched. “I may not officially be courtin’, but there’s a?—”
“It is hardly aladyyou woo. Just tell your latest infatuation that your courtship of Miss Winthrop is but for show, and then seduce the dancer or actress back into your bed. I don’t see what the problem is.”
“The problem, Jasp, is that you’re callin’ in a favor greater than what was asked at yer weddin’.” Arty grimaced.
Milton almost felt bad. “I am, friend, and I am sorry for it. I did not intend for you to do more than keep an eye on Winthrop’s gambling atThe Leaf. I am doing my best to find his younger daughter some suitably bland nob from theTon, but I’ve still too little influence with these dullards.”
“Then why not talk t’ yer wife?” Arty bit back. “’Tis the reason y’ married her, right? Let ’er match make for her own sister. Hell, mayhap the girl’s got eyes fer some gentleman what needs but a financial push. She’s a sweet enough morsel to turn any chap’s?—”
“Sweet enough morsel?” Milton’s lips curled. “Have a care, Arty, that you not court fair Miss Annabelle too far yourself.”
Arthur harrumphed. “An’ I’d warn you, Jasp, that if yer wife finds out you’re scheming t’ marry ’er sister off, she’ll be none too pleased she weren’t informed.”
“Lizzie!” Milton bellowed from the hall. “Where the devil is my wife?” Having just sent Arty packing, he was in a foul mood following their discussion.
Murdoch hastened toward him. “Lady Milton’s taken the phaeton to pay the Duchess of Allendale a visit, Jasp.”
“Come again?” He felt gut punched.
“Lady Milton’s taken the new phaeton and?—”
“She isdrivingmyphaeton? Alone? To visit Wellesley’s wife?”
“Now Jasper,” Murdoch began, “don’t get yer knickers in a twist, lad.”
“Fuck!”
“Jasp!” Her tone lashed. “We warned ’er not t’ go without first askin’ yer permission, but now she’s mistress o’ this house, we can’t?—”
“Iam master of this house, Murdoch, and you lot take orders from me, not her.”
Murdoch shot him a scathing look. “Boy, if you don’t reign in yer temper, you’re in fer a world o’ married hurt.” She crossed her arms and stared him down.
Only Milton wasn’t listening; he’d known his housekeeper too long to let her shame him. “Murdoch,” he said succinctly, “see that my horse is saddled. At once.”
Taking tea with the Duchess of Allendale was not only a joy, it was a balm. Elizabeth relished the freedom to make calls now on her own, as a married woman might. It made her soul feel light.
“Lizzie, pleasantries aside, you must tell me about your marriage.” The Duchess set down her cup. “I admit your note concerned me.”
Elizabeth recalled the haste with which she’d penned her post-wedding missive to the Duchess. She swallowed her nerves. “I fear the Baron’s reasons for marrying me are not?—”
“Above reproof?” The Duchess poured them each more tea. “I expect not. But you knew he was no gentleman when you married him.”
“Yes.” Elizabeth frowned into her cup. “Only I was not given a choice, Your Grace.”
The Duchess rested her cup atop her swollen midriff. “Call me Charles in private, Lizzie,” she reminded. “And no woman should be forced to wed a man she barely knows, let alone?—”
“Then you were not … forced?” Elizabeth asked. “That is, you mentioned before the word coercion.”
