A Death, A Duke, And Miss Mifford - Claudia Stone Page 0,8

to remind her that he was a grown man, and not a boy she could boss about, "You spent all season wife-hunting in town on my behalf; I will not tolerate it in my country residence. A man needs some peace."

"A man also needs an heir," Cecilia countered, thoroughly unimpressed by his show of defiance.

"I have Thomas."

"Your brother is away with the army," the duchess sniffed, "And he is not the Duke of Northcott, you are. You require an heir, Henry, lest you wish to end up like Lord Crabb."

"Does Lord Crabb not have an heir?" Henry raised an eyebrow in question. He knew the viscount was a bachelor but had assumed that he had a brother or a nephew who would inherit.

"He does," the duchess admitted, "But no one has set eyes on him. Lord Crabb's brothers are all dead, but before they died, they saw fit to breed daughters, who in turn bred more daughters. Crabb's heir is some distant second cousin who has never once set foot in Plumpton--it causes all sorts of anxieties amongst his tenants and staff. Imagine how they must suffer, wondering who will take hold of the estate when Lord Crabb passes."

"It would be difficult for this cousin to be any worse than the current viscount," Henry snorted, though he did feel a mild jolt of panic on behalf of Miss Mifford.

What would become of her, and her family, if the next Lord Crabb was to bestow the living at Plumpton upon someone else?

"While that might be true," Cecilia agreed, "You owe your own tenants more certainty. You must marry soon, Henry, and secure an heir."

"Perhaps I shall marry sooner than you think, mother," Henry replied, his mind filled with Miss Mifford, though deep down he knew she was not really a suitable candidate to be his duchess.

"You won't unless you allow me to invite some eligible ladies down," Cecilia sighed, "For you won't find a bride in Plumpton--there's no society to be had here. Your secretary tells me the only invitation you have received so far is from the Parish Ladies' Society, who wish to hold a dance in your honour. I hardly think you'll find a wife hiding amongst the unwashed masses in a country assembly room--imagine!"

"Yes, imagine," Henry replied, though really he was doing just that.

Chapter Three

As well as the cleaning and upkeep of both of the town's churches, Plumpton's Parish Ladies' Society had two other very important functions. The first was the organising of the annual summer f锚te, which took place on the village green, and required very little actual organising.

The second was the management of the Ladies' Assemblies, which ran once a month from September until March in the assembly room above The Ring'O'Bells Inn. Previously, given that there was very little society in Plumpton, the organising of the assemblies had been quite an easy affair, but with an invitation now extended to the duke, its members had become most particular--though some more than others.

"No clerks to be admitted," Mrs Canards called, the day the assembly was due to take place, as she read aloud from a list of new rules she had concocted, "No shopkeepers, excepting Mr Allen, the seats at the top of the room are to be reserved for ladies of precedence of the rank of a Peer or Peeress of Great-Britain or Ireland, the gentlemen are not to wear coloured scarves--"

"Bah," Mary interrupted disagreeably, "We shall have no one in attendance with all these rules, Mrs Canards."

"His Grace will be in attendance," Mrs Canards answered coolly, as, beside her, Mrs Wickling nodded in agreement.

"Well, he shall find himself in an empty room," Mary laughed, "No men in coloured scarves--do you think us in London, where every gentleman has a sparkling white cravat to hand?"

"Fine," Mrs Canards frowned, "I shall strike that from the list."

"And you can't suddenly refuse all the shopkeepers attendance," Jane Mifford added her voice to Mary's argument, "For they pay their subscription just like everyone else and they will attend every ball this winter, whilst His Grace might disappear again and then where would we be?"

"Merchants and their families will lower the tone," Mrs Canards huffed, casting a glare at the assembled ladies, who were seated in a circle.

"The tone is already lowered," Mrs Mifford gave a giggle, "You might not be able to imagine it Mrs Canards, but having moved amongst the ton, I know the places His Grace frequents; Carton House, Almack's, the finest homes in England. Our tiny