Thwarting the Duke Page 13

  However, considering the time invested in finding the blasted boy, it only made sense to clap eyes upon him.

  "Ready my bath."

  "Yes, my lord."

  Chapter 11

  Presiding over tea with Lady Grace, Fox, and Trouble was the most fun Agatha remembered having in years. Now she wished she'd brought all of them to London with her in the first place, as it saddened her that Tim was still at home. Lady Grace was surprisingly indulgent of the brothers, calling them rapscallions but laughing over their teasing and mayhem. Trouble had just been telling a story and jumped up to demonstrate what he meant, sending Agatha diving to save the tea service and Fox to save a vase, when the butler opened the drawing room door again.

  "Laurence Garner, Viscount of Rothering."

  Rather than notice his sibling's struggles to right the breakables, Trouble walked towards the door. "So you're the viscount?"

  Agatha felt some of the joy go out of her day. Not simply because of the viscount's appearance, but more because of the contrast that she saw before her. Lord Garner looked resplendent in a coat of dark cranberry over buff trousers. Black boots and a snowy white cravat completed his fashionable attire. Meanwhile, Trouble's clothing was drab, worn, and still a bit dirty even after the maids beat the road dust out of it while he bathed.

  The viscount smiled. "And you must be Trouble."

  They bowed to one another as though it were a perfectly natural thing to do, but it all struck Agatha as terribly comical. Like a greeting between a peacock and a brown finch. She couldn't help herself, she started to laugh. And once she started she found that she couldn't stop.

  "Don't mind her," she heard Trouble say. "She has a case of the sillies."

  "We've often been concerned that it's terminal," Fox added gravely.

  "Do you think I should shake her to rights?" Trouble asked.

  She waved her hands in a warding gesture.

  "Not in present company," Fox said. Thank God at least one of her brothers had sense.

  "What does that mean, shake her to rights?" the viscount asked.

  "It's just easier to show you," Trouble said.

  She started waving her hands again and saying, "No, no, no, no." But Trouble scooped her up easier than a bag of beans while she shrieked and laughed. Once she was over his shoulder he jumped up and down while she pounded her fists at his back.

  "Are you feeling better yet?"

  "Put me down, Trouble," she said, "I can't breathe."

  He finally set her back on her feet. She loved her brothers. They were better than pretty dresses and fancy teas. Better even than a full stomach or the assurance of a solid roof and fire wood for the winter. She would rather spend what time she had left with them before they all went their separate ways than marry for comforts and risk a husband that would keep her from them.

  Now that her laughter subsided her lip quivered from fear over what she might lose. "I want to go home."

  Trouble grinned at her. "At home all you do is work. You look much happier here."

  Her chin firmed in determination. "I want to go home."

  The room was quiet and tense for a moment until the viscount said, "I'll take you home."

  They might all be odd ducks, but it was clear that these siblings were family in all the warm and sentimental meanings of the word. It wasn't something that Laurence had ever experienced himself, not like this. Some of the boys on ship had been homesick for just such a thing, but he always counseled them to put thoughts of home behind them. It had been an easy enough thing for Laurence to do himself. He and Horace had never been closer than good friends, and their parents were the traditional sort who never spent overly much time with children. This, however, had been a glimpse into what those boys had tried to describe. A sense of belonging, of familiarity, that wrapped the three of them like a comfortable cloak. He thought now that he'd advised those boys poorly. This wasn't something to forget, but to cherish. To think on in times of darkness or peril.

  If he'd seen the Chase siblings together like this before, he never would have doubted that Trouble's first order of business would be to find his sister. Much like you wouldn't start your day without finding your shoe or your watch fob, these siblings didn't do anything without checking on each other. It was humbling. Laurence had never felt as closely tied to anyone as these siblings were to one another.

  Lady Grace was aflutter. "I don't think His Grace-"

  "We've had quite enough of His Grace's interference," Laurence said. Undoubtedly if you couldn't say no to a duke, you couldn't say 'that's quite enough', either, but the duke wasn't there to gainsay him.

  "But Miss Chase-" Lady Grace started again.

  "I'm going," Miss Chase said firmly, nodding once to herself. Then more softly, "I'm going home."

  Agatha had to bite her lip to keep from crying while she packed her meager belongings. She would leave the dresses here, as part of this world. Although Lady Grace would probably let her have them, and the fabric could fetch a pretty penny back home, it seemed wrong to take them. She plaited her hair into a simpler style and changed back to her drab brown traveling gown. Taking one last look around the lovely, spacious room she had lived in for the past fortnight, she closed the door with a soft click.

  Once downstairs she found her brothers and Lady Grace in the front hall.

  "The viscount has gone to fetch his traveling carriage," Lady Grace said.

  "Where is Georgette?" Agatha asked.

  "You don't think we'd forget her, do you Saint Aggy?" Trouble teased. "She is packing. And," he added in a stage whisper, "she promised to pack as many biscuits from the kitchen as she could fit in her reticule."

  "Miss Chase," Lady Grace said, regaining Agatha's attention. "I expect to receive regular letters from you. I've grown quite fond of you, you know."

  "Thank you, Lady Grace," Agatha said, performing the best curtsy she knew how.

  "And," the lady added with an arch to her brow, "perhaps your brothers could do with my influence over their social graces."

  Both Chase brothers widened their eyes in horror.

  "We should wait outside for the viscount," Fox said.

  "In case he needs help," Trouble said.

  "With the horses or such," Fox added.

  The two brothers scurried out the door as though Lady Grace had threatened to give them pox.

  "I apologize for my brothers," Agatha said gravely.

  "They are both quite handsome and lively," Lady Grace mused. "With a bit of polish, they might take very well in Town."

  Agatha decided to keep to herself any opinions on how well her brothers would polish up. Once Georgette tottered into the hall, she and Agatha stepped out just as the viscount arrived with his larger coach. There was also a driver, two attendants, and four outriders. It wasn't quite the luxury of the ducal carriage, but certainly far more than Agatha expected. There was more than enough room for their tiny satchels on top, where the viscount had also strapped a large trunk. Once inside, the space was crowded but not overly so by the five of them. She and Georgette sat with Fox on one bench, while the viscount and Trouble faced them.

  She found it surprisingly hard to look the viscount in the eye. Perhaps because he looked particularly attractive today in his dark red coat, his hair mussed in his rush to retrieve them. Or perhaps because she knew she could never repay him for the kindness of ferrying her tag-rag family home. She desperately wanted to be home. She wanted to check that Tim was all right, which was silly since Tim was always all right. He was the most all right of all of them, herself included. Now if she could just settle the butterflies in her stomach, perhaps she could be second most all right.

  Chapter 12

  Laurence tried not to stare at Miss Chase, not least of which because her brother Fox smirked at him whenever their eyes met. If he had met her like this, with her hair plaited, in a simple dress, and her brow furrowed in worry, would he have given her even a second glance? Most likely not. She was s
till a pretty girl, but she seemed formidably domestic. Not like a servant, but like a mother. The sort of woman who scolded her children for not taking up their toys, but also made sure they had a warm meal and read to them until they fell asleep. The sort of woman who would nag her husband about any number of things, but knew how to laugh. Yes, he liked Miss Chase a good deal more than he should. As a wife she would be challenging. Headstrong, temperamental, and clearly quite bossy. But she was also loyal, sentimental, and silly. She was too protective of her siblings by half, and would probably be more so of her own children. She needed a husband who knew how to make men stand on their own feet. At their ages, Fox and Trouble should be eager to strike out on their own, even if the bonds of family would always draw them close.

  Was he truly considering taking Miss Chase to wife? She'd been quite clear in her intentions. To marry for money to support her family. There was something refreshing, he supposed, to a woman who would state it so plainly. She didn't have a dowry, but he didn't need one. He was far from the richest man in the land, but didn't want to be. And based on her brothers' clothing, his own wealth far exceeded hers.

  Even if he did want to marry her, would she want to marry him? She'd called him arrogant and controlling, and admitted to not liking him. Would she ever laugh with him, or would all that laughter be reserved for her brothers' visits? Because even if she didn't like him, she might very well take this one opportunity to marry a rich man and provide for her siblings. Especially once she realized that his primary estate was only a day's ride from her family home.

  Should he have the driver take them there? To show her what she stood to gain if he offered for her? The thought of going home was still unsettling to him. There was so much he needed to learn, so much he needed to do, and he was hardly interested in any of it.

  Could he see her at the family estate? Fulfilling the role of viscountess? Oddly, yes. Not because she had flourished in Society, but because she had exhibited enormous control to dampen such a spirit. She was clearly accustomed to doing what she set out to do, and quite used to having command over a household and all those within it. Would that be a source of unresolved conflict for them? He wasn't the sort to bow down to a woman's edict, but he would certainly listen to her thoughts whenever she had them. Nor was he particularly interested in marrying a woman who would cater to his every wish as, quite obviously, Miss Chase would not. He'd expected her to upbraid him about sending her to change clothes and then riding off without her, but she hadn't done so. Or at least, only had in the broadest of terms, by insulting him and saying she didn't like him.

  Oh, Miss Chase, he thought. What will I do with you?

  Chapter 13

  It was their second night on the road and Lord Garner, as she insisted on calling him even though her brothers had fallen to calling him Laurie, had been nothing but pleasant. From time to time he would look out the carriage window and get that snarling smirk on his face, and she had come to wonder what it meant. If he had truly been upset when his friend arranged an entire fortnight of entertainments instead of the one night he had expected, then it gave her some clue as to what sort of thing could bring it about. But he'd also had it before approaching her, and for most of their excursions. He had rarely spoken when escorting her, or when he did it was to complain about something. She'd come to the conclusion that he was quite unpleasant, but now had to wonder. He fit into their motley crew a good deal better than she would have expected, teasing with her brothers and being sweet to Georgette. It all served to make her more reticent than she would normally be, which only led to her brothers teasing her about her new refined airs.

  Now she and Georgette were tucked safely in a room under the eaves that Lord Garner had paid for. How did one pay a man back for such charity? Her insistence on going home had been, in retrospect, childish and unfair. If she couldn't pay for the trip she shouldn't expect anyone else to do so. She should, she thought, have been the one person who figured out how to say no to a duke, because this entire excursion had been ill-conceived. She never should have gone to London. What she wanted, she realized now, was to somehow go back to the time before London. To not know how fine silks could feel against the skin, or how lovely fresh linens on the bed could be. The bed linens at home were so worn from washing that they were literally transparent in spots and patched in others. She used to enjoy the simplicity of their home because it was theirs. Would she still treasure it as much now? Or would she always think fondly about her room at Lady Grace's elegant townhome.

  Further, what would home look like? When she arrived in London she had been overwhelmed with the beauty of the homes. Would their old manor house now look squalid by comparison? It made her sad and tired with all these thoughts running through her head. Not least of which was the puzzle of Lord Garner. He had looked as good in blue superfine today as he had in cranberry the day before. Had she grown as used to him as she had the fine houses of London?

  Although she wasn't a limp rag, it was clear that Miss Chase was withdrawn because her brothers kept commenting on it. The boys themselves were quite rambunctious with the adventure of the trip, confirming Laurence's belief that they needed to have productive goals that would lead them to their livelihoods. Today he set them to work off some of their energy by riding two of the outrider horses, while the outriders themselves enjoyed lounging on top of the carriage. That left him and a quiet Miss Chase inside the carriage with a dozing Georgette.

  "Penny for your thoughts," he said.

  She looked at him, brown eyes wide and lovely. "I'd think this trip was paupering you too much to pay anyone for their thoughts."

  He laughed. "You'll not only be a nag of a wife, but a pinch-penny too?"

  That only led to a rather skeptical frown. "I'm not meant to be any man's wife, so I've not thought on it overly."

  "What became of your plan to sell yourself into marriage?"

  "You saw how well that went. You stand as my only reference for marriage, and you just called me a nag and pinch-penny. I doubt such a description will line the suitors up."

  He shrugged. "It depends on the man."

  Her brows only drew higher in her skepticism.

  Laughing, he admitted, "I can't imagine the man where it would head their list of preferred attributes."

  "Perhaps only one who hoped to use my sharp tongue as a weapon against someone else."

  He hadn't thought of that. How would she fare against the Old Dragon? Quite well, he suspected. Any woman who spoke her mind to a viscount she thought stood as her only reference would certainly not quail under the challenging eye of an old hag. "You make a splendid point, Miss Chase. Would you do me the great favor of accompanying me to my estate?"

  "Alone?" she asked with alarm.

  "Of course not. We can retrieve your last brother and make an outing of it."

  "Where is your estate?" she asked cautiously.

  "North another day. Near Loughborough."

  She squinted at him, as though sizing him up. "To what end?"

  "I think, Miss Chase, that you may have a dragon to slay. And I would be forever grateful for it."

  "As you like," she said calmly.

  Laurence couldn't wait to see who would win the contest.

  Chapter 14

  Agatha was suspicious. Lord Garner had gone from amiable to downright giddy after she agreed to visit his estate. He would not elaborate on the dragon she was meant to slay, and focused most of his attention on keeping her brothers well entertained. She felt marginally better once they collected Timid, but the viscount insisted on staying on the road rather than going to their manor house for the night. Agatha was conflicted. On the one hand, she very much wanted to go home. On the other hand, she didn't want to be disappointed in what she found there. Perhaps the distraction of this excursion was precisely what she needed.

  For the nonce, she was alone inside the carriage with Timid and Georgette, which was about as alone as one could be with two other people present. Ti
mid was engrossed in the passing scenery and Georgette was knitting. Agatha herself was worrying. Was this to be the last time that her family was happy and well-fed? The last time they could be together? Before the boys had to find work, before Georgette passed? Before, despite her protestations, Agatha might have to marry anyone who would have her simply to keep from being destitute on the streets?

  Yes, it was best that she be distracted from her worries by this excursion. That it all be forestalled by the viscount's largess. If he said that he would be grateful for her slaying a dragon, then she had best try to slay it to repay him for his kindness.

  They slept one more night on the road, at an inn small enough that she could hear her brothers carousing with Lord Garner in the tavern below her room, even over Georgette's snores. What did the viscount hope to gain by falling in with the Chase family? They had nothing to give him.

  Laurence found he couldn't sleep, even though the hour had grown quite late. The Chase brothers had fallen into bed in the room next door over an hour ago. Now here he was pacing about the small space, risking a stubbed toe or worse in the dim light of his single candle. He found he was no longer worried about returning to the estate, or even the estate business that awaited him. What had caused him dread mere days ago seemed a small matter now. The thought that loomed large was Agatha. He knew where she was at the inn, and considered waking her, insisting that she talk to him. Not that he was precisely sure what they would talk about, but he wanted her presence. Not that she would be soothing, precisely. Odds were good that she would insult him, but somehow even that had become something of a comfort now. Especially as he had seen that among the Chases insults were as good as tokens of love. They all had mildly insulting nicknames, but clung to those identities ferociously. She, he had come to find out, had been dubbed Saint Agatha by Trouble years ago. As unlikely as it seemed, Agatha herself was the source of all the other nicknames. When not beleaguered by responsibilities or trying to trap a Society husband she was apparently quite the kidder, and a prankster besides.