Ten Things I Hate About the Duke - Loretta Chase Page 0,25

recommend you curb your natural impetuousness and give the lady time,” his lordship said. “It will work greatly to your benefit, I promise.”

To his astonishment, his nephew took only a sip of the wine then set the glass on a table. “Don’t know. I did what I could, but it’s not the easiest or surest thing, making oneself not be where one’s been. I’ve sworn Morris to secrecy, as you’d expect. The trouble is, sooner or later, in all the talking he does, he’s bound to let something drop. And there were so many witnesses.”

“Most of whom will hold their tongues,” his uncle said. “As to the few who don’t, it’s their word against many others’. Word may get back to London eventually, but by the time the story gets about—if it does—it will be old and garbled news. In another week or two, somebody will get into trouble of some kind, and fresh scandal is more delicious than stale.”

“Can’t say, Uncle. I hope you’re right. But people don’t like her, and so they won’t treat her fair.” The duke gazed into the empty grate. “I have to make it right, you know.”

His uncle gave him a searching look. “Are you quite well, Lucius?” he said more gently than usual. He’d lost a brother to a dark world Lord Frederick had never experienced and could hardly comprehend.

Ashmont straightened and laughed. “Flourishing. Only a trifle blue-deviled. Long day. A good night’s sleep and I’ll be myself again.” He must have guessed what his uncle was thinking, because he added, “It isn’t in me to brood. If I’d killed Ripley . . . well, it wouldn’t be pleasant. Rather not think about that. But I didn’t. And there’s an end of it.”

It didn’t take Cassandra long to understand what had happened. The servants’ and innkeepers’ faces were too innocent, too mystified at her mention of Ashmont.

As soon as she understood, she stopped asking.

She was impressed, certainly, by what wholesale bribery could do. Furthermore, as in the case of clean clothing, she chose not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

She wasn’t sure this would solve her difficulties. Word was bound to reach London. The tale was too exciting to be suppressed for long. But Ashmont had given her a reprieve of sorts. She wrote to her parents, telling them she’d had a mishap with the carriage and Keeffe was hurt, but Mrs. Nisbett was with her, and Cassandra only awaited the surgeon’s approval before returning home.

Not a word of the message was a lie, except by omission.

When she told Keeffe what the duke had done, he grinned and said, “I knew he’d bring us through. Whatever faults you find in him, he’s a true gentleman, born and bred.”

“A gentleman! He! By birth, undoubtedly. As to character, he’s a fraction of the gentleman you are.”

“Well, you know, miss, nobody’s as perfect as me.”

“As I,” Mrs. Nisbett murmured.

“Very well, you, too,” Keeffe said. “But that duke of yours, miss—”

“Not mine by any means,” Cassandra said.

“He plays fair and sporting. Like one of them knights in the stories, you know, protecting your honor.” Even with his ribs bound up, Keeffe managed something like his normal cackling laugh. “Put up a great shield of money to keep off the scandal.”

Though discovering that the Duke of Ashmont had quietly gone about fending off scandal had shaken Cassandra’s view of the universe, it wasn’t until late on Sunday afternoon that she saw her world entirely upended.

That was when Lady Charles Ancaster, her aunt Julia, arrived at the White Lion in her landau.

She was Papa’s youngest sister, and he doted on her. Following her husband’s death three years ago, she had gone into seclusion at Camberley Place in Surrey. In the past week, Cassandra had heard, all three of Their Dis-Graces had landed on her aunt’s doorstep, along with the Duke of Ashmont’s uncle, Lord Frederick Beckingham—though not all at the same time.

By early evening, Mrs. Nisbett was on her way home and Aunt Julia had taken charge. Still a handsome woman at six and forty, she was as sure of herself as she’d always been.

“I grieve at her leaving her home in bad weather,” she said, after they returned to Cassandra’s room. “It was brave and kind of her, indeed. Had I known, I should have made greater haste. But by the time I learnt of your mishap, it was too late to set out.”

“Learnt of—”

“As it was,” her aunt went on, not heeding the interruption, “I