Only a Duchess Would Dare (The Rogues' Dynasty #2) - Amelia Grey

One

My Dearest Grandson Alexander,

I am confident you will agree with these wise words from Lord Chesterfield: “At all events, a man had better talk too much to women, than too little.”

Your loving Grandmother,

Lady Elder

Alexander Mitchell, the fourth Marquis of Raceworth, stared at the cards in his hands but his mind was on the surprisingly bold albeit beautiful Miss Maryann Mayflower. She sat beside him, slowly rubbing her foot up and down his leg. It was her second Season, and the talk around the clubs was that she would do anything to make a match before it ended.

That rumor gave Race pause, even though the invitation she issued under the table was tempting. He never minded a tryst in the garden from a willing miss, but he wasn’t interested in getting caught in parson’s mousetrap.

For the past three years, Race had held an afternoon card party in his garden during the Season. Only this year, the coveted outdoor event had to be moved inside because of a hellish rainstorm. The social gathering was so well attended he had to move the furniture out of his drawing room and the dining room and place it in other areas of the house so that he could accommodate the more than three dozen guests who had come to play whist, cribbage, and speculation.

“Excuse me, your lordship.”

Race looked up at his housekeeper. “Yes, Mrs. Frost?”

“Could I have a word with you in private?”

The stocky-built woman was well-trained. She wouldn’t interrupt him unless it was something important. “Of course, I’ll be right with you.”

He looked at the players at his table. There was the comely blonde who wasn’t letting a little thing like a housekeeper standing so closely keep her from seducing him with her foot. The other lady at the table was the quite charming and unattached widow, Mrs. Constance Pepperfield, and the other gentleman of the foursome was his cousin Morgan, the ninth Earl of Morgandale.

Race laid his cards face down on the white linen-covered table. “Excuse me, ladies, Morgan. I have to bow out of this hand. As you know, this is the problem with being the host of a party.”

“Must you?” Miss Mayflower asked, pouting.

“I’m afraid so,” Race assured her pleasantly and moved his leg away from hers. “It seems that duty is calling me. Morgan, can I depend on you to charm the ladies while I’m away?”

“More than happy.”

“Good. Ladies, I’ll return shortly,” Race said with a smile.

He then rose and went in search of Mrs. Frost. He found her in the vestibule, closing the front door.

“You needed to see me?”

“Yes, my lord,” she said with a grimace on her plump face. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I knew you would want to know that the Dowager Duchess of Blooming is here to see you.”

Race’s brows drew together. He didn’t like surprises. “A dowager duchess to see me?”

“That’s what the lady said.”

Race started clicking off in his mind all the dowager duchesses he could remember and couldn’t think of a reason any one them would come to see him. “I wonder what has brought her to my door.”

“I have no idea, my lord.”

Unlike his cousin Blake, the ninth Duke of Blakewell, who was notorious for forgetting appointments, Race knew every entry on his social calendar. He certainly would have remembered it if a dowager duchess had requested to call on him. But what was he going to do? He couldn’t see her this afternoon. His house was stuffed with people chatting noisily around card tables.

“Where is Her Grace now?” Race asked Mrs. Frost.

“In her carriage. I didn’t speak to her. The duchess sent her companion to the door to say she would appreciate a few minutes of your time, if you would be so kind.” Mrs. Frost’s eyes widened. “I told her you had a party going on. The companion apologized for the interruption and said Her Grace was content to wait in her coach until you are available to speak to her.”

“That’s odd,” Race mumbled more to himself than to his housekeeper.

“It was a quick win for me after you left,” Morgan said, walking up to Race. “Those two ladies don’t know much about card games. I gave them both a cup of punch and told them I would check in with you to see if you wanted us to wait for you or find another partner. What’s going on?”

Race stepped away from Mrs. Frost and in a low voice said, “I don’t really know. The Dowager Duchess of Blooming