A Duke by Any Other Name by Grace Burrowes Page 0,50

medical supplies, taking a seat to roll up a bandage she hadn’t used. The salves also reminded her of Stephen, of the years when they’d been too poor to afford even the cheapest balm for his aches.

“I wasn’t always a duke’s sister. For most of my childhood, I was one of those filthy, pathetic children you see begging all over the streets of York. Physicians are mostly for the rich. The rest of us make do with herb lore and common sense. My brother’s injury inspired me to learn what I could, not that I was ever any use to him.” Althea had tried, though, and perhaps that counted for something.

“I can’t picture you as a feckless urchin.”

She stuffed the rolled bandage back into the basket. “While polite society can’t see me as anything but.”

Robbie regarded his bandaged foot. “Polite society. Was there ever a greater misnomer for a bunch of judgmental hypocrites?”

Who are you? “Probably not, though I am the sister of a duke now and I am grateful for that. But for my brother’s good fortune, I’d likely be dead or wishing I were dead.”

Robbie sat up a little straighter. “Instead you are free to wander the beauteous Yorkshire countryside where you can make the acquaintance of tall, dark, handsome strangers.”

Rothhaven chose that moment to appear bearing the tea tray and a thunderous scowl. “Are you flirting with Lady Althea, Robbie?”

Althea rose, setting the medicinals aside. “I believe the tall, dark, handsome comment referred to you, Your Grace.” Or it should have. Robbie was good-looking, but Rothhaven was attractive. “I will happily pour out if you’ll join us.”

Her motivation had nothing to do with propriety—propriety be hanged when illness or injury came to call—but rather, with a pathetic yearning to simply spend time with Rothhaven. He looked tired and out of sorts, and when was a hot cup of tea ever a bad idea?

He set the tray on a second hassock and took the chair behind the desk. “Will you be missed at Lynley Vale?”

Althea fixed him a cup with milk and sugar. “Not until supper time. I often hike the property on my own when the weather is fine. Today I thought to visit my sows, and that requires a chat with Mrs. Deever at the home farm. She makes the best bread, and insists I have mine with our own butter and honey. This invariably involves a protracted visit.”

Mrs. Deever was lonely—many farmers’ wives were lonely—and Althea hadn’t the heart to refuse her.

“You should stay for luncheon,” Robbie said. “I take my tea with just a drop of honey. A literal drop.”

A man of particulars. Why didn’t that surprise her? She served herself last and took a slice of buttered cinnamon toast as well. Cinnamon toast was an odd choice for a tea tray, but appealing.

“How is your head, Robbie?” Rothhaven asked, setting his empty cup on the tea tray.

“Aches a bit,” Robbie said. “Just a bit. Don’t be waving the laudanum at me, Nathaniel.”

Perhaps they were brothers, for they bickered like siblings, or maybe Robbie was a by-blow or a cousin raised at the family seat.

“I believe His Grace was expressing concern for your welfare,” Althea said. “You made your sentiments regarding laudanum plain enough before we’d left the river.”

“I did?”

Rothhaven collected Robbie’s cup. “You did. More tea?”

“No thank you. If it wouldn’t be unpardonably rude, I believe I’d like to cadge a nap.”

“A nap only,” Althea said, gathering up the rest of the tea things. “If you smacked your head when you slipped, then we must not let you fall into a coma. His Grace will waken you in an hour or so.”

“From footman to nanny,” Robbie murmured, closing his eyes. “Who would believe it?”

Rothhaven set the tray on the desk. “Rest. I’ll look in on you soon, and we can move you upstairs when you’re feeling more the thing.”

His Grace was neither footman nor nanny, but he was tired and worried and could use a friend. “Let’s sit in the garden,” Althea said, taking him by the elbow and leading him into the corridor.

When they’d gone not six feet from the door of the estate office, he surprised Althea by wrapping her in a hug.

“Thank you.” He held on to her, his embrace secure and warm. “I was terrified.…To lose him again would be…I cannot lose him again. Cannot.”

Althea stroked Rothhaven’s back, very much aware that she held a duke in her arms, also a man who’d suffered a serious upset. She liked