How to Fool a Duke (The Husband Dilemma #1) - Lancaster, Mary Page 0,28

made perfect sense, except that Julia now called herself Lady Whitmore, a title which did not appear to exist. He supposed it was a sort of a courtesy title, such as they used in Scotland, where a landowner might be known by the name of his estate and his wife as Lady of that estate. Lady Whitmore could have adopted such a practice. After all, she was clearly the great lady of the area.

But she had been married. She had a son. Would she not use their names?

That, perhaps, depended on the reason for her estrangement. It seemed to Leonard that she was as incognito as any of her guests.

But he had run out of time. He stood and made his way to the drawing room to join his hostess.

As her guest, he could hardly show unseemly curiosity. He did, however mention it obliquely by referring to his difficulty in directing his solicitor.

“Oh, it will be simpler if my man contacts yours,” she said easily. “How goes your excavation? Have you discovered anything more interesting than pebbles? I do hope you haven’t dug up any bones!”

At once, he was distracted into telling her about the cup with the runes, and from there to his encounter with Sarah. The little mystery got lost in the back of his mind for later. And, in fact, he only thought about it again the following morning when two visitors strolled down the hill to his excavation.

At the time, he was crouched over one pit, in deep discussion with James and one of the laborers.

“Hello! Your Grace!” called a familiar voice.

Leonard looked up, shading his eyes against the morning sun, and recognized Trenton and, less welcome, Maria Loxley. He stood, edging around his pits to join them.

He bowed to Maria and offered his hand to Trenton. “What a pleasant surprise. I didn’t know you were still in Whitmore.”

“Well, we couldn’t resist staying another night or two when we heard what you were up to,” Trenton said with a grin. “Er, what are you up to?”

“Treasure hunting,” Leonard replied. “What are you up to?”

“Plotting,” Maria said with a tinkling laugh. “We thought we would hold a little supper dance at the inn. There is decent company in the village—to say nothing of excellent musicians and cooks. Would you come?”

“Of course, if you have Lady Whitmore’s permission,” Leonard replied, spying an opportunity to dance with Sarah. If only Maria kept her claws to herself.

“Do we need her permission?” Maria wondered. “Certainly, we were on our way to invite her. Oh, look, isn’t that her little protégée?”

Leonard quickly followed her gaze and saw Sarah walking across the top of the hill in the direction of the castle. She waved, and Leonard lifted his hand in response.

Trenton swept off his hat and bowed. “What luck!”

“Come, let’s hurry and catch up with her,” Maria urged, setting off toward the hill.

“I’ll walk up with you,” Leonard said, reluctantly picking his coat up from the ground and struggling into it. He did not trust Maria’s apparent friendship with Sarah.

However, Maria hurried ahead without help, calling to Sarah to wait. Trenton seemed delighted when Sarah obeyed.

Leonard was unreasonably irritated. He wished he wasn’t dressed like a grubby laborer while Trenton looked, as always, the perfectly groomed gentleman.

Since Maria linked arms with Sarah, there was nothing for it but to fall behind them. But at least it gave Leonard the chance to question his friend, to look somewhere other than Sarah’s enticing, slender body moving so gracefully inside her flimsy gown and spencer.

“Tell me, Trenton, you’ve been here before, have you not? For Whitmore events?”

“A few now, yes.”

“How is that? Do you know her ladyship well?”

“Actually, no—I’ve only ever met her here. But she’s an old friend of my mother’s. And of Lady Billows, who first pressed me into escort duty a couple of years ago. Why?”

“Oh, no reason, really. Just trying to work out who she is. I believe the estate is hers, not her husband’s.”

“Probably.”

“Who was her husband?” Leonard asked bluntly.

Trenton frowned with the effort of memory. “Not sure I ever heard. If I did, I’ve forgotten. Ask my mother next time you see her! Mind you, I’ve a feeling there might have been some ancient scandal or other. Which probably explains why no one mentions the husband.”

“Is he dead?”

Trenton scratched his head. “No idea,” he said at last. “Again—ask my mother!”

***

Sarah had taken this path to the castle with the intention of visiting the duke en route. She felt quite disappointed