The Duke Read Free Page B

the drawing room, Edward said, “Even though it’s been fifty years or sosince Culloden, I understand that the Scots don’t in general look favorably upon their English neighbors.”
    The duke said quietly, “I have thought about that, Edward. I have decided to take only Mabley with me. Whatever their attitude toward the English, I have no wish for them to despise me because I come armed with ten servants and pack mules carrying all my belongings. Damn Giles anyway. Trust him to think only of an old relic and a gaggle of girls.
    â€œNow, enough of my affairs, Edward. Tell me, which of London’s more infamous fleshpots would you like to frequent during your visit?”
    Actually, Edward had composed a quite impressive list, since his visits to London were few and far between.
    â€œGood God, Edward,” the duke said in some amazement when his friend had finished, “You’ll have me driving out of London with a head hung so low from brandy that it will take me the entire journey to recover.”
    That, Edward hoped, smiling, was just what he wanted. Suffolk was a fine place, but a fleshpot, now that was just the thing he needed.
    â€œAll the way to Scotland then, Ian,” Edward said, and clicked his glass to his host’s.
    â€œDamn, but this will be fun. Perhaps the pain will be worth it. You’re a doctor. Can’t you make the days after less painful?”
    â€œNary a bit, sorry,” Edward said cheerfully. “It’s nearly four o’clock in the afternoon. Don’t we need to make plans for the evening?”
    Ian thought of his mistress, the lovely Cherry Bright—he’d always prayed it was a stage name—and sighed. “Perhaps this doesn’t include visiting a place like Madame Trevalier’s?”
    â€œOh, yes. I’m ready,” said Edward. “More than ready. I’ve been immured in the country for sixmonths. There are only virtuous squires’ daughters and married women. All the daughters giggle and give me sloe-eyed looks and make me nervous. The wives look at me with the kind of interest that scares the hell out of me. There’s nothing else but sheep. What’s a poor doctor to do?”
    â€œAll right,” said the duke. “We’ll visit every fleshpot until you’re sated.”
    â€œThen look at my list, Ian. Yes, read it all the way down. Have I missed some of the best places?”
    â€œWhere did you get this bloody list?”
    â€œFrom the ostler at the Gaggle Goose Inn, where I’m staying. He has a lovely daughter, but I won’t get near her.”
    The duke sighed. “Come back here at six o’clock and bring your gear. I can’t abide the thought of you staying at the Gaggle Goose Inn. You’ll stay with me. And you’ll stay as long as you like. Then we’ll eat at my club and begin on your list.”
    One didn’t let down one’s friends, particularly when one had hunted, fished, and committed uncounted mischief with that friend, beginning at the tender age of six.

3

    L ady Adella Wycliff Robertson, dowager countess of Penderleigh, lifted her worn ebony cane and waved its blunted tip toward her granddaughter. “Come, child, I won’t have ye slouching about, looking just like Morag before she itches herself. Though ye carry the Robertson name, there’s still English blood in yer veins and that makes ye a lady. Ladies don’t slouch, do ye hear?”
    â€œAye, Grandmama,” Brandy said, and squared her shoulders. There were chilling drafts wafting through the dowager’s large, circular sitting room that always made her want to huddle into a round ball for warmth.
    Even though the stone walls were covered with ancient thick wool tapestries, they had long ago been soaked to their fibers by the damp cold from the North Sea. Occasionally Brandy saw the frayed edges of the tapestries billow forward as the harsh sea winds whistled