The Duke's Disaster (R) Read Online Free PDF

eleven of the clock on the indicated date, with a wedding breakfast at Anselm House thereafter.”
    Grantley squinted at the hand-lettered invitation Noah passed him and ran a hand through hair lighter—and less tidy—than Thea’s.
    “Is this cricket, Thea?” the earl asked. “Seems hasty to me, but maybe you’ve anticipated the vows?”
    Even Lady Nonie’s expression went blank at that insult.
    “Were you not so obviously suffering from the lack of couth that characterizes most with your insignificant years,” Noah said, “I would call you to task for the slight you offer my bride.”
    “Slight?”
    Both sisters were sipping tea as if their reputations depended upon it.
    Hopeless . “Grantley, you will swill some strong black tea and then assist me to retrieve Lady Nonie’s effects from her room,” Noah instructed.
    “Hirschman can do it.” With a shaking hand, Grantley accepted a hot cup of tea from his younger sister.
    Hopeless and arrogant. Noah’s sympathy for his bride doubled. “Where will I find that worthy?”
    “He’s a man of all work,” Thea said. “He’s been with us forever, and he’ll likely be in the kitchen if he’s on the property.”
    Noah left the three siblings to their tea and noted more evidence of poor household care as he made his way below stairs. A streak of bird droppings left a long white smudge on a window in the foyer, a carpet in the hallway bore a dubious stain, and the door to the lower reaches squeaked mightily. Fortunately, Hirschman was indeed in the kitchen, but Mrs. Wren nearly wrung her apron into rags at the sight of a duke in her domain.
    “Mr. Hirschman, if you’d see to Lady Nonie’s things?” Noah asked when Mrs. Wren had ceased fluttering and muttering.
    “Of course.” Hirschman rose, presenting a sturdy if slightly stooped frame. “But where, might I ask, is the young lady off to?”
    About time somebody asked, because Grantley didn’t seem inclined to delve into particulars.
    “Noah Winters, Duke of Anselm.” Noah bowed slightly, because this fellow was likely all that had kept Grantley’s wastrel friends from bothering Lady Nonie. “Betrothed to Lady Thea, who is gathering Lady Nonie under her wing. Lady Thea is with her brother and sister now, and the wedding is to be in a few days’ time.”
    Bushy white eyebrows rose, and the housekeeper’s apron-wringing came to an abrupt halt.
    “So soon?” Hirschman asked. At least he didn’t inquire outright if they’d anticipated their vows.
    “I cannot countenance leaving the young ladies to shift for themselves any longer than necessary,” Noah said. “Or perhaps there’s some hidden streak of sobriety in Lord Grantley I’ve failed to appreciate?”
    “Not perishing likely,” Hirschman scoffed. “Too much like his friends, that one. I’ll fetch the trunks, but Your Grace will leave the direction with Mrs. Wren, if you please.”
    Noah complied, because Hirschman’s request, while presuming in the extreme, was fair. If Grantley turned up missing, his sisters ought to be notified—eventually.
    When Noah returned to the morning parlor, Grantley was looking a little less like a fish dead three days, and Lady Nonie’s speech had slowed to a rapid approximation of conversation.
    “If you ladies are ready?” Noah picked up his hat and gloves. “Lady Nonie’s trunks are being loaded as we speak.”
    “You’re leaving?” Grantley asked. He was a good-looking enough young man, but would soon lose his appeal if he remained dedicated to dissipation.
    “We’re off to the home of His Grace’s sister, Lady Patience, until the wedding,” Thea said, “and thence to Anselm House.”
    “Because you’re getting married,” Grantley recited slowly, “to him.” He blinked owlishly, likely still a little drunk from the previous evening’s revels.
    “We’ll send a carriage for you,” Noah said, “and some footmen. Who’s your tailor?”
    Grantley waved a hand in a gesture Noah had