Dukes By the Dozen полностью

“I don’t expect my duchess to be madly in love with me, Amherst.” Though a love match would be wonderful, provided the duchess involved was Lady Iris.

“Nobody can be madly in love with a duke,” Amherst said, “though a duke is often in love with himself. You lot are too high in the instep, and Hyacinth ain’t that sort of lady. She likes to be silly, and laughs at bawdy jokes if her sister ain’t about, and she don’t care for the country. You don’t care for Town.”

Amherst, in his bumbling way, had lit upon several salient truths. Lady Hyacinth was a dear, but decorum was not a priority for her, and she did seem prodigiously fond of the shops.

“Are you enamored of her, Amherst?”

Amherst grasped his lapels with both hands. “And if I am?”

“Then give me about a week before you offer for her.”

Amherst blinked. “D’ye mean it? She’s the dearest thing, and she don’t mind that Dersh and I like the occasional night with the fellows, and she isn’t always trying to take the reins, if you know what I mean. She’s a comfortable sort of lady, not a duchess sort.”

“I must orchestrate matters so that nobody’s pride suffers, regardless of my choice.”

Amherst rocked up on his toes, then back on his heels. “Dersh is powerful smitten with Lady Holly. The feeling’s mutual, I daresay. Suppose that leaves you with Lady Lily. She’ll want you to take her to the opera.”

This condolence was offered with the most sincere fellow-feeling Clonmere had been extended in years.

“Some things can’t be helped, Amherst. Wait until my betrothal has been announced, then call upon Falmouth. You can pass the same guidance along to Dersham, though I’d rather you not discuss this at the punch bowl.”

Amherst paused two steps from the edge of the alcove. “Clonmere, one doesn’t bandy a lady’s name about. Have a damned care or Dersh and I will have to take you in hand. Discuss this at the punch bowl, indeed.”

Two down.

Amherst nearly knocked Thomas onto his arse, so intent was Lady Hyacinth’s swain to not discuss his marital fortunes at the punch bowl.

“Clonmere.” Thomas bowed, not a smile to be seen. “I have secured Lady Lily’s supper waltz, but I must make something clear to you.” He paused, cocking his head. “That second fiddle is at least a quarter tone sharp.”

As if Clonmere knew what a quarter tone was. “You were saying?”

“I am waltzing with Lady Lily tonight, not because you asked me to befriend the lady, but because the lady has befriended me. She fancies me, and I’ve reason to believe she does not fancy you.”

Thank you, Cousin. “Not above half?”

“She says she could esteem you greatly, and you’re very estimable, and a fine gentleman, and any woman would be flattered to have your addresses, but that’s all so much twaddle. She and I play duets. You could never play a duet with her. We argue about the virtues of French versus Italian opera. You view an opera as a chance to catch up on your sleep.”

“Thomas—”

“She has a lyric soprano that will turn lullabies into arias, while you can’t carry a tune in a bucket even when you’re drunk. Lady Lily has discernment, artistic discernment, while you—”

Clonmere stepped closer, before his cousin burst forth into song. “Thomas.”

“No need to shout. I’m merely reciting facts. That violin is an abomination. I owe it to every refined ear in the ballroom to tune that instrument.”

“You owe it to Lady Lily to court her, but I beg you to first allow me to offer for one of her sisters.”

Thomas studied him as if Clonmere’s tuning were off by a quarter tone. “You really aren’t suited to either of the twins, Clonmere. They are wonderful young women, but your temperament is not compatible with theirs. They are flutes, you’re a trombone, old man. Not a good combination.”

Three down. Clonmere scanned the ballroom for his would-be duchess. “You’ll wait until I’ve become engaged to pay your addresses to Lady Lily?”

“Yes, but I cannot bear another instant of that violin. I wish I had a solution for you, but you can’t marry both twins, and you can’t marry Lily. I won’t have it, and neither, I hope, would she.”

“Go tune the violin, Thomas, and my thanks for all you’ve done.”

“I’ve stolen the best of the lot out from under your nose,” Thomas said, tugging down his waistcoat. “Well done of me, if I do say so my own, humble, handsome self.”

He disappeared into the throng beyond the alcove, leaving a very relieved duke in the shadows. The next part was delicate, but critical. Three of Falmouth’s daughters did not fancy becoming the next Duchess of Clonmere. Clonmere had yet to confirm that fourth daughter did fancy that station, or was at least willing to become his wife.

CHAPTER 5

SPRING HAD ADVANCED during the weeks Clonmere had courted Iris’s sisters. Lily, Holly, and Hyacinth had bloomed as a result of his attentions, while Iris’s spirit wilted with each evening of dancing, music, and socializing she was forced to endure.