for all his shrewdness in politics, he could be obtuse about personal matters.
“Who is this Randal Talbot?” The duke leaned back as Frith placed a plate filled with delicacies from the sideboard, his favorite kidneys and shirred eggs and some toast, in front of him.
“The Earl of Rushland, Father.” She watched him relish a bite of eggs.
The Duke of Worth loved food, and it showed. Despite his short height, he managed to look substantial rather than fat. Freddy had inherited her petite stature from him and from her mother, both of whom would have done well on Lilliput—as much for their narrow attitudes as for their size. Which brought her back to Rushland.
“I think you may have known Lord Talbot’s father, the fifth Earl of Rushland,” she said.
“Eh? Thought he died,” the duke said absently, now well into the kidneys.
“He did,” Freddy said patiently. “Last year.”
“And didn’t leave a thing to his heir but debts,” her mother interjected.
“Money isn’t everything, Mother,” Freddy retorted.
“It is something to consider, pet,” her father said, dabbing at his mustache with his napkin. His mustache was his pride and joy, and he kept it neatly trimmed and waxed. He had eschewed the popular side whiskers worn by most of his friends. “You like nice things. Nice clothes, nice horses, nice parties. Nice things cost money.”
“I know that, Father. But you have money.”
He chuckled. “Yes, pet, but when you marry, you’ll be depending on your husband to support you.”
“I have trust funds—”
“That come to you at thirty,” he said. “And not a day before. I’m sure your husband will appreciate your fortune when the time comes. You’re only seventeen, pet. There are a few years to be lived in between. I have faith in your mother’s judgment about these matters, and so should you.”
The butler, Smythe, entered the dining room and announced, “You have a visitor, Lady Winnifred.”
“Who could be calling so early?” the duchess asked, eyeing her daughter.
Freddy heard the unspoken message.
No gentleman would commit such a solecism
.
“The Earl of Rushland, Your Grace,” Smythe replied to the duchess.
“Tell the young man we’re having breakfast and to come back at a decent hour,” the duchess said.
Freddy rose and tossed down her napkin. “I’ll see him now.”
The duchess rose, clutching her napkin in both hands. “I think not!”
“Sit down, both of you,” the duke said. “I insist on a civil breakfast.”
“I’ll excuse myself then, Father, so I won’t disturb you and Mother any further.”
“Now, pet—”
“Winnifred, I insist—”
She was gone, shutting the door on the mouths of parental authority. She took a deep breath and let it out, a feat much easier to accomplish since she had left off wearing corsets. Her mother had said a word or two about that, as well, but it hadn’t made any difference. Freddy refused to be bound up like a prisoner in the docks just because it was the fashion.
She hurried to the drawing room of their London town house, knowing that was where Smythe would have left Rushland waiting.
He looked particularly handsome this morning in a dark brown frock coat, white linen shirt, fawn breeches, and black boots. There was a glint of mischief in his eyes as he smiled at her and held out his hands. “Good morning, Lady Winnifred. Did I cause a problem coming so early?”
She placed her hands in his, because it would have been awkward not to, managed an equallybrilliant smile, and said, “Nothing that I couldn’t handle, Lord Talbot.”
“I couldn’t wait any longer for your answer.” His face held a boyishly eager expression that made her feel guilty. She hadn’t encouraged his suit, but she hadn’t discouraged it, either. She knew he put more weight on the kisses she had allowed than she did. But how was she to find her Prince Charming if she didn’t kiss a few frogs first?
“You haven’t spoken to my
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