“Of course not. You’re responsible for seeing that he
Or he’d have one daughter married to His Grace of Stick-in-the-Mud and forced to bear his heirs, while the other two spent their lives consumed with jealousy.
He snapped the paper open and raised it before his face. “If you can tear yourself away from your stitching long enough, you might consider writing to Peter. Damned boy is about to get sent down again, and I can assure you there’s no refund of tuition in that case. I can’t afford to purchase yards of lace and also deal with my heir’s various mis-steps.”
Peter was eighteen, too handsome for his own good, and not inclined toward academics.
“I’ll write to Peter, then see about altering some ballgowns.” Iris mentally added a third, more pressing item to her list: She’d make the acquaintance of a certain duke, and decide for herself if he was worthy of any of her sisters.
CHAPTER 2
“THE YOUNGEST HAS BROWN HAIR, that’s Hyacinth,” Annis said. “The other two are blondes.”
“Lilac and Holly,” Clonmere replied, steering his gelding around the evidence of another horse’s passing. “Or is it Lilac and Hellebore? Hibiscus?” Nobody would name their child Hellebore or Hibiscus, would they? Hydrangea? Something with an H.
“Lily and Holly. Clonmere, how can you be contemplating marriage to one of these women if you’re not even interested in their names?”
A gentleman did not explain to his baby sister that women had attributes that could hold his interest far more effectively than a mere name.
“What are they like?”
“Lady Holly and Lady Hyacinth are twins, but they don’t look exactly alike. Lady Lily is the oldest, and she has a lovely soprano voice.”
“I’m tone-deaf, Annis, and I wouldn’t know a Lawrence from a Canaletto. Tell me what they’re
Clonmere’s sister rode a dainty chestnut mare, doubtless chosen to show off Annis’s red hair. Her riding habit was green, her expression pitying.
“They are exactly what you’d expect: Pretty, pleasant, and desperate to marry. You deserve better, Clonmere. If you hadn’t put off marriage for so long, Mama might be willing to see reason.”
He waited, letting Annis ride ahead of him between two closed carriages. “I didn’t put marriage off.”
“You are two-and-thirty and have no duchess. Perhaps a wicked fairy put you to sleep at age twenty-one. Both of our sisters are married, and our brothers are certainly standing up with their share of debutantes.”
To be scolded by a mere child of eighteen…. “How old did you say Falmouth’s daughters are?”
“What difference does it make? They are out, they are eligible, and you need a duchess.”
No, he did not. He needed a
“Oh, dear,” Annis said, drawing her mare to a halt. “I believe Teddy Amherst and Patrick Dersham are making a disgraceful spectacle of themselves.”
The two peacocks were on foot, one beside a curricle with a damaged wheel, the other strutting before a high perch phaeton. Both Amherst’s matched blacks and Dersham’s bays were restive, and pedestrians had stopped to gawk at the accident.
“We can ride back the way we came and dodge down the alley.” Clonmere would rather return home and bury his nose in correspondence, but he’d hidden in his study for two days. The weather was glorious, and the sooner he made the acquaintance of Falmouth’s offspring, the sooner he could be done with the whole farce.
“Clonmere, this could get interesting.” With three brothers, Annis had seen any number of fistfights, not that a lady should admit as much.
“Dersham’s bigger, but he’ll be slower too,” Clonmere said. “My money is on Amherst. He’s the wronged party, and they tend to fight harder.”
“I mostly want to see them take off their coats.”
Well, that was honest. Would Clonmere’s duchess want to see him unclothed, or would she cower beneath the sheets, staring at the bed hangings while he struggled to consummate the marriage vows? Ghastly thought.
Dersham was attempting to shrug out of his coat, but Bond Street tailoring did not yield to shrugs. The tiger tried to assist his master while holding onto a bridle, and a ring of spectators assembled right in the street. Money changed hands, as Amherst made loud allusions to calling out the damned fool who couldn’t control his team.
