Page 49 of How to Ruin a Rake

“He’s a nice-looking chap,” Julian said. “I can understand why you were drawn to him.”

“Who is?” Allegra immediately blushed.

“Pippin.” Julian studied her with some amusement. “Who else did you think I was talking about?”

“In truth, I had no idea.” Allegra laid the rose in her basket and brushed off a couple of loose petals. “Pippin is lovely. I found him tangled up in a boundary hedge. It took me quite a while to set him free.”

“When was that?” Julian bent to pet the dog.

“At, at …” Allegra stuttered. “The inn.”

Julian met her gaze. “You really are the most terrible liar.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I believe you said that you arrived at the inn and immediately succumbed to a fever and took to your bed.”

“Yes, that’s correct.” Allegra made herself hold his gaze. “I met Pippin on the last day when I was waiting for the horse to be readied in the gig for me to leave.”

“Allegra,” Julian said. “I understand that you don’t want to worry your family, but is there anything I should know about—that I can help you with?”

“That is very kind of you, sir, but I can’t think of a single thing.” Allegra turned back to the rose bush. She was certain the color of her cheeks matched the blooms. “I am simply glad to be home.”

“I’m not trying to pry. I just want you to know that I am an ally, and I am here if you need me.”

“Thank you.” Allegra didn’t turn around. “It is much appreciated, although completely unnecessary.”

He continued his walk and exited the walled garden into the wilderness beyond. Allegra let out her breath. Julian was astute and knew her well. If anything did occur of a difficult nature, she would certainly call on him for help. Not that anything would go wrong. All she had to do was stay home, never go to London, never entertain thoughts of marriage, and everything would be fine.

Max made an effort to look presentable and arrived at his father’s townhouse on the dot of eleven. The family butler opened the door and ushered him straight into the library, where he was greeted by his father’s secretary, Stephen Longfellow. He stood as Max came in and smiled somewhat condescendingly. He’d been employed by the duke for as long as Max could remember and had often been delegated to extricate Max from whatever predicament he’d fallen into.

“Good morning, my lord. His grace will be with you shortly.”

“Good morning,” Max replied. “What kind of mood is the duke in today?”

“I couldn’t comment on that, my lord. It wouldn’t be my place.”

“Such an excellent keeper of secrets,” Max said. “The duke is a very lucky man.”

“I do my best to protect his interests.” Stephen rearranged several papers on the duke’s desk. “I am loathe to lose such an excellent position.”

The door opened, and the duke came in. “You may leave,” he told his secretary.

Stephen nodded and went out after wishing Max a good day.

The duke sat at his desk and looked up at Max. “I informed you that I would be in London on certain dates and expected to see you.” His father studied one of the letters on his desk. He bore little resemblance to Max who had inherited his mother’s famed beauty.

“Yes, you did.” Max said.

“Then why weren’t you in town?”

“I was involved in a carriage accident in Suffolk, sir. It took me a few days to sort everything out and return to London.”

“You’ve wrecked your carriage?”

“A wheel came off in a ditch. I was thrown out of the vehicle.”

The duke finally looked up at him. “Out of it? I assumed you were driving.”