A Duke by Any Other Name by Grace Burrowes Page 0,61

wanted was to meet Lady Althea in the orchard again, and do much, much more than merely kiss her.

Althea allowed her temper to rage for the duration of the hike back to Lynley Vale. She was furious on behalf of two men who’d been backed into a corner by their father’s arrogance and by a losing ticket in the lottery that determined a boy’s health.

She was furious with the Almighty, with whom she usually observed a pact of mutual indifference. Any god that allowed Jack Wentworth to be unsupervised in the presence of children lost all credibility as a benevolent deity. To inflict the falling sickness on Robbie was cruel, to have allowed a boy of sound mental processes to be banished to an asylum by his own father was crueler still, and to inflict the whole bizarre deception resulting from it on Rothhaven…

“But what else can they do?” she muttered, climbing a stile over the wall that separated Rothhaven’s holdings from her own.

If guardians were appointed for Robbie, he’d be prohibited from marrying, from ordering the particulars of his own life, from defending his estate against pillaging by those imprisoning him “for his own safety.” The falling sickness alone might not merit him such a fate, but the falling sickness, withdrawing from society, asking Nathaniel to perpetrate a fraud, spending years at an asylum for the deranged…

Polite society judged a man harshly for being a bad dancer. What would they do to a duke who was terrified by the sight of a pretty blue sky?

A horseman turned through the gateposts at the foot of the Lynley Vale lane, though the trees obscured Althea’s view of him. She did not recognize her visitor, which was to be expected, when her neighbors rarely called. A gig turned up the drive behind the rider, and some hint of familiarity plucked at Althea’s memory. She did know that horseman, knew that elegant, relaxed seat, but he was…

“Stephen.” If ever a Wentworth had a penchant for charging toward trouble rather than away from it, Stephen was he. So why would he have come north now, when all the best scandal and intrigue was to be found in Town?

Althea picked up her skirts and walked faster, because she also recognized the couple in the gig. William, Viscount Ellenbrook, had brought Miss Sybil Price to call, drat the luck, and Stephen had apparently already made their acquaintance.

Althea met her guests at the foot of Lynley Vale’s front steps.

“What a pleasure on such a fine day,” she said, preparing to apologize for her damp hems and muddy boots. But then, her guests hadn’t thought to send a note, because this wasn’t London. In the country, muddy boots were of no moment and casual calls were a fact of life.

“Lord Stephen,” she went on, “I gather you’ve introduced yourself to Miss Price and Lord Ellenbrook?”

Stephen loved to ride. All the mobility he was denied on two feet became his in the saddle, and he cut an excellent figure in breeches and riding jacket.

“I confess I was tempted to abandon all propriety in the face of Miss Price’s boundless charms,” Stephen replied. “As it happens, Ellenbrook and I are acquainted and introductions were appropriately made. No lapse of decorum has yet occurred.”

He sent Miss Price a coy smile and tipped his hat to her. She blushed and laughed while Ellenbrook looked amused.

“One cannot help who one’s brother is,” Althea said. “Stephen, I will escort my guests to the blue parlor. Join us when you’ve located your manners, won’t you?”

“I’ll hand my steed over to the stable lads, and then nothing could keep me from such an abundance of feminine pulchritude.”

He trotted off to the stables, because—as Althea well knew—he was loath to dismount in front of strangers. He carried a pair of canes in a scabbard affixed to his saddle, but the business of getting off the horse and safely to the ground was ungainly.

“Let’s find a tea tray,” Althea said, offering her callers a smile. “I am famished from hiking the lanes, and my cook takes his job very seriously. What a delight to come home to some company.”

She meant that, oddly enough. Compared to the intrigues and heartache at Rothhaven Hall, a simple skirmish with Miss Price, an ambush by Stephen, and some small talk with Ellenbrook would be nearly soothing.

“One must wonder,” Miss Price said as Althea settled her guests in the semi-formal parlor, “why Lord Stephen would abandon the blandishments of Town in spring. He’s