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"Miss Lattimore, do you like dogs?"
The duchess returned home to inform the duke that he'd done just what
he ought, and found their sons the perfect brides.
"Brilliant, my dear, brilliant," she congratulated him over their
pre-dinner sherry.
"I thought they didn't have a feather to fly with."
"Pooh, who's talking about money? Of course nothing's settled yet, so I
might have to stay on in town to take a hand in matters after all."
The duke pretended to study his ancestor's portrait on the wall. "Might
you, my dear?"
"Of course, I would need an escort sometimes, you know, to show we
both countenanced the match. If that would not pull you away from your
duties terribly."
His Grace tossed back his wine and held out his arm to lead her in to
dinner. "Family support is worth the sacrifice. You can count on me, my
dear," he said with a bow. His new corsets creaked only a little.
23
Miss Lattimore& or Less
^
iscount Mayne did not usually peek into the breakfast room before
V
entering, but with the duchess in town, forewarned was forearmed. He'd
rather go without his kippers and eggs than have his hair combed with a
bowl of porridge so early in the morning. The duchess was smiling,
though, and humming over her chocolate and some lists she was writing.
He entered, careful to watch for the furry little beggars one always found
lapping up crumbs in Her Grace's breakfast parlor.
"Good morning, Mother," he said, dropping a kiss on her bent head
before helping himself at the sideboard. "I see you are keeping country
hours. Did you sleep well or did the London noise awaken you?"
Oddly, she blushed. "I slept very well, thank you. I wished to speak with
your father this morning before he left for his office." The viscount looked
around for pottery shards. "And you before you went on your usual ride."
Or escape hatches.
"I think I'll just send for some fresh coffee," he said, moving to the
bellpull.
"It's fresh, dearest. And so are the eggs, done just the way you like them.
Sit. Oh, no, Forrest, I did not mean you. Pumpkin was trying to steal
Prince Charlie's bacon."
Forrest excused himself. He was not particularly hungry any longer.
"But you cannot go until we've talked about my dinner party."
"Are you staying in town long enough to throw a party, then? Father
will be pleased." He hoped so. He himself was planning on being busy that
night, whichever night she chose. Lady Mayne's London circle was the
worst bunch of character assassins he ever met, meddlers and intriguers
all. Now that the duchess was in London to look after Bren, perhaps
Forrest could return to the peace and quiet of the countryside.
"Yes, I thought I would host a small gathering to introduce Miss
Lattimore to our closest friends."
He sat down in a hurry. Sydney at the mercy of those gossipmongers?
Heaven knew what she would do if he wasn't there to look after her.
"Brennan told me you visited at Park Lane. So you mean to take them
up?"
The duchess looked up from her lists. "Of course. That's what you
intended when you wrote me, wasn't it? They'd be quite ruined if I were to
cut the connection now, after the mull you made of introducing them. A
friend of their mother's, indeed! Lucky for you I even knew the peahen."
Forrest waved that aside. "Then you don't mind that Miss Lattimore
hasn't a feather to fly with?"
Lady Mayne set down her pencil. "I hope I have not raised my sons to
think that money can buy happiness, for it cannot. Then, too, Brennan
shall have an adequate income to provide for any number of wives."
"And their families. You don't think they could be fortune hunters, do
you?"
"Stuff and nonsense. How could you look at that sweet girl and stay so
cynical?" She frowned at him as if the idea never entered her mind. "I
think she and her sister have done the best they could to keep themselves
above oars, considering all the help they got from that cheeseparing aunt.
Why, she has a houseful of underpaid servants, and her own nieces fetch
and carry like maids. She must have a barn full of equipages, and they
travel about in hired carriages! It's the outside of enough, and I have
already taken steps to see things changed. See how Lady Windham likes
the ton knowing a near stranger has to frank her relations. The duke
agrees."
Forrest choked on a piece of toast. Now, that was a first, the
Mainwarings agreeing about anything. Forrest could not help wondering
how Sydney felt about his mother's largess, with her prickly pride.
"I was not high-handed, Forrest. I let Bren manage it. She's his
intended, after all."
"And you are reconciled to the match even though it is not a brilliant
one?"
"Who says it is not? She is going to keep him happy and safe at home.
What more could I want? And can you imagine what beautiful children
they will have? I cannot wait to see if they are dark like Brennan or fair
like Winifred."
Forrest had a second helping of eggs. "I am relieved you found her so
charming, Mother. I thought you would."
"Yes, and I don't even mind that she is an independent thinker and an
original, either."
"Independent? Winnie? If the girl had two thoughts to rub together, I
never heard them."
"Who said I was talking about Miss Lattimore? I am speaking of your
Miss Sydney, who does not have more hair than wit. And if you did not
send for me to get your ducks in a row with that refreshing young miss, I'll
eat my best bonnet."
"She's not refreshing, she's exhausting. She is a walking disaster who is
forever on the verge of some scandal. That's why I sent for you, before she
could ruin Winnie's chances, too. Sydney is infuriating and devious and
always up to her pretty little neck in mischief."
"Yes, dear," his mother said, bending over her lists, "that's why you are
top-over-trees in love with her."
The fork hit the plate. "Me? In love with Sydney? Fustian! Who said
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