The Courtship Read Online Free PDF

sideboard.
    Her Grace’s lips thinned as she allowed her husband to seat her. “I slept abominably, though I find this morning there is cause for cautious optimism.”
    She would not be silenced, not by the presence of a servant, not by the open door, not by anything less than the hand of Almighty God slapped over her mouth, and even then she’d give the Deity a struggle for form’s sake. Her Grace was a determined woman and always had been.
    His Grace flicked a glance at one of his oldest retainers. “Thomas, if you’ll excuse us?”
    The barest hint of commiseration showed in the old man’s eyes before he bowed once to the duke, again to the duchess, and withdrew, closing the door behind him.
    “His knees creak, Moreland. You should pension him before he keels over in his livery.”
    And lose one of few allies under the ducal roof? “Thomas serves loyally, Your Grace, and has some good years left in him. May I fix you a plate?”
    Her Grace fluffed her skirts just so. “Please. I’ll have eggs, toast, ham, a portion of apple tart, and half a scone with butter and strawberry jam.”
    Determination apparently built up an appetite, and yet the woman still had a fine figure—from what His Grace could gather. They’d had separate apartments for more than twenty years, and what happened in the early hours of the day behind the closed door of Her Grace’s dressing room remained a mystery.
    As well it should.
    His Grace needed two plates to hold the food his wife had requested. He set the plates down before her and took his place at the opposite end of the table. “What news have you had from Lady Morrisette?”
    The duchess tucked into her breakfast, gesturing with her fork for the teapot. “I don’t know as I can trust Hippolyta Morrisette’s veracity, but she claims both Tony and Percy are quite as sought after as Quimbey himself.”
    Then the boys were to be pitied. “Is that so?”
    “You will not take that tone with me, Moreland. We need grandsons, and it’s my duty to ensure we get them. Criticize me for many things, but I am dutiful.” She glowered at him for a moment for emphasis—unnecessary emphasis—before returning to her meal.
    They hadn’t started out sniping at each other. They’d started out two young, lusty people who’d hoped and prayed their parents had found them a suitable mate. And for a time…
    And then little Eustace had fallen from his pony, and it had become clear that they’d buried marital happiness along with their firstborn son. Thank a merciful God the accoucheur had told the duchess that Tony was the last child she could safely carry. Ten years of Her Grace’s grim focus on marital duty had about given His Grace’s interest in procreation a permanent tendency to wilt.
    Shrugging that thought aside, the duke tried for a tone that was conciliatory without being condescending. “You have become determined on grandchildren only since Twombly took a child bride, Your Grace. He should be shot for mistreating your sensibilities, but you’ll soon be surrounded by other gallants. Did Lady Morrisette mention any young ladies in particular?”
    Her Grace stirred sugar into her tea with vengeance. “Twombly deserves his fate, marrying a mere girl. She’ll be the death of him, mark me on this, Moreland. And of course I will have other gallants, but Twombly was a fine dancer.”
    Twombly was an aging hanger-on, not worthy of Agatha Venetia Drysdale Windham’s notice, though it was none of His Grace’s affair where or with whom his wife spent her time. Still, a husband was entitled to the occasional protective gesture.
    “Shall I call him out for you when he’s back from his wedding journey?”
    The duchess shifted on her seat. “Wouldn’t that be a fine thing if he prevailed, leaving me a dowager duchess with no grandsons? No, thank you, Moreland. And yes, Hippolyta says Lady Zephora Needham is spending as much time as possible with Percy and Tony, and Charlotte Pankhurst