A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (88 page)

“
He only thinks he’s
protecting you, you know.”

“
I know. But that doesn’t
make it any easier to bear.” She would prefer to be up, moving
about, than stuck in bed, no matter how large her belly had grown.
“But enough of that. Tell me what you have in the
works.”

Sophie glanced to both ends of the
long entry hall of Somerton Court and pulled Grace into a nearby
drawing room. She took one final glance down the hall before she
closed the door.

“
You must keep this a
secret.” Sophie fell into a sofa and tugged on Grace’s hand so she
would sit next to her.

“
Of course.”

“
You have to swear to me
you’ll tell no one, not even Alex.”

“
I believe you know me
better than that by now.” Really, couldn’t she just get on with
it?

Sophie took one more look about, even
though she knew they were alone and the door was closed. Good
grief! “Richard’s coming home. He’ll be here by tomorrow at the
latest.” The exuberant smile on her face was contagious.

“
Oh, Sophie, I’m so happy
for you.” She felt a small twinge in her side, but ignored it.
“Does anyone else know? Your mother? Peter?”

“
No, no one. Only you. He
sent me a letter and begged me to keep it secret, but I was
absolutely bursting with the news. I had to tell
someone
.”

“
Well, I’m glad you chose
me.” A sharper pain assaulted her, and she cringed.

“
What is it?” Her
sister-in-law took her hand and jumped to her feet. “Is it the
baby?”

“
No, I’m sure it is nothing
to worry about…”

“
Do not dare lie to me,
Gracie.”

“
Really, I’m fine. Sit,
talk to me. Tell me more about Richard coming home.” She needed to
hear Sophie’s voice so she could convince herself the baby wasn’t
coming yet.

“
Well, he hasn’t sold his
commission,” Sophie said as she resumed her seat. “He’s on a
fortnight’s holiday, and he couldn’t have better timing, with the
whole family gathered here for Christmas. And for the baby’s
arrival, of course.”

“
Of course.” Grace grimaced
as another pain shot through her middle.

“
You are not fine, so stop
trying to convince me otherwise.” Sophie rose from the sofa again
and rushed to the door. “I’m getting Mama. And Alex. Oh, and
everyone
.” She ran out,
leaving the door to the drawing room wide open. Her voice rang out,
calling through the halls of Somerton Court. Within moments, the
hullabaloo of her family rushing to her side broke out.

Her family. Grace liked the sound of
it.

No, liked wasn’t nearly the right
word. Loved. She loved having her own family.

Within minutes, the room was
overcrowded with the Hardwickes, her aunt and uncle, even her
father. The commotion overwhelmed her.

Henrietta called out for quiet.
“Enough. Grace needs calm. Can’t you see how distressed she is?
Here sweetheart, we’ll have you somewhere more comfortable in no
time.” Alex pushed from behind as Peter and Neil pulled Grace to
her feet.

And then a new commotion broke out
when a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark, reddish-brown hair,
fair skin, and the same deep green eyes Alex had, a man Grace could
mistake for none other than Major Lord Richard Hardwicke, walked
through the door of the drawing room and joined the
party.

“
I see I made it just in
time.”

Indeed, he had. Peter and Neil dropped
their holds and she fell onto her husband in a most ungraceful
heap. Her newest brother, Richard, rushed to her side to help her
up again so they could haul her to a more appropriate place for
birthing her child.

Grace’s family was
complete.

Merely a Miss

Catherine Gayle

Dedication

To Grandpa, Uncle George, sweet Salvation
Jane, and my Bailey Boo. I miss you all.

Chapter One

London, 1815

A shrill, female voice that could only
belong to his mother demanded entrance just as a rather loud thud
sounded against the door. “His Grace is not to be disturbed,
ma’am,” came the gruff, masculine response of his
footman.

Peter Hardwicke, Duke of
Somerton, could almost
feel
the commotion outside the doors of his library,
not just hear it. Clearly unimpressed by the footman’s response to
her command, Mama pushed the door open and nearly burst it free
from its hinges.

Forrester’s jaw fell open from across
the great oak desk. He stared at the dowager as she disrupted their
business meeting. One look back at Peter, however, had the
secretary snapping his mouth closed so fast he might have bitten
off the end of his tongue.

The Dowager Duchess of Somerton might
disregard her son’s edicts, but no one would disrespect her and
live to tell the tale. At least not if Peter knew anything about
it.

Henrietta Hardwicke—lovely, still,
with her rich auburn hair streaked with only a bit of white, and
quite a lovely figure, despite having borne six children—pushed the
doors wide as the bedraggled butler, Spenser, and Peter’s baffled
footman followed in her wake.

“
Your Grace, I apologize,”
Spenser stammered. “We informed Her Grace that you required
privacy, but she would not take no for an answer.” His beleaguered
butler looked ready to rip his hair out in frustration and, indeed,
a few stray grays stood on end.

Peter could understand the
sentiment.

He needed to sort out these matters
with Forrester and send the man on his way. Then he could better
focus on the day’s true agenda: examining the ledgers from his
various estates. Only that morning, he had held his quarterly
meeting with Yeats to receiving his accounting. Peter’s man of
business held no small amount of concern over Carreg Mawr, Peter’s
Welsh estate. It seemed that Turnpenny might be losing his touch
with the staff, at least if Yeats’s hunch was correct.

Yeats was rarely wrong with his
hunches. It was a seminal talent.

Peter’s talents, however, lay in
finding proof of his hunches by poring over the accounts. Doing so
would require time, though, and a bit of silence in his
house.

Neither of which was he currently
being granted.

“
That is correct, I
will
not
accept no
for an answer.” His mother, ever forthright, smoothed the lawn
fabric of her gown with her one free hand (the other being occupied
with a note of some sort) and moved further into the library. “You
may all leave now. I should like a word with my son
alone.”

All three servants waited
for his signal before departing. At least
they
would respect his authority in
this house. A throb formed behind Peter’s eye.

He loved his mother—he truly did. In
fact, he loved all of his family a great deal. It was because of
that great love for them that he overlooked it when they treated
him with somewhat less respect than his position in society
demanded.

It was also because of that love that
he needed to complete his current task. After all, one must always
fulfill one’s duty to those one loved. Peter’s duty to his family
was to assure their wellbeing. Doing so required the incomes from
his properties. And maintaining such an income from said properties
required his utter diligence and devotion.

He shook his head. Sometimes it felt
as though no one else understood how great his responsibilities
were. This was one of those times. He took a glance at the stack of
papers toppling over his currently cluttered but normally tidy desk
and awaiting his attention, then up at Mama’s fierce
determination—the firm set of her jaw and the slight rise of a
single eyebrow. He tried to mask his annoyance as he waved the
servants away and escorted his mother into a chintz armchair near
the large and piteously over-cluttered desk.

His mother would always be granted his
time, when he could make it for her.

Peter waited until the door closed
behind the men before he asked, “What can I do for you today,
Mama?” He said a silent prayer for patience.

She looked across at him with a
deadpanned gaze. “To start, you can find a wife.”

Good God. Again?

“
I see.” Of course, he
plainly did
not
see. This was the last thing he had been expecting to come
from her mouth. He pushed at the unrelenting ache in his temples,
hoping the pressure might ease the pain. “A wife?” He had no time
for this. Not this discussion, not this business with Carreg
Mawr—none of it. The Parliamentary session would begin in short
order. That’s where his attentions needed to be. He needed to meet
with a few of the other Lords so they could decide what to do about
Napoleon. The man could only stay put on Elba for so long, after
all, and Prinny was counting on Peter and his group to determine
what, specifically, should be done with him. “And why, precisely,
should I find a wife?”

“
Why should you not? Peter,
I want you to be happy. I want all of my children to be happy.
Don’t you want what Alex and Grace have found together? They are so
very much in love.” She gave him a pointed look. “You could be
too.”

Good Lord in heaven, why should he
want that for himself? It was all fine and well for Alex, but Peter
and Alex were hardly the same. He’d hoped that when Alex had
married, Mama’s matchmaking schemes would have come to a
close.

They clearly had not.

“
I already
had
a wife, or have you
forgotten? Mary was everything a duchess should be. She provided me
with two children—two
beautiful
children.” He walked to the hearth, rubbing his
right hand absentmindedly over his jaw. “I couldn’t secure
happiness with her, so why should I expect a different result
simply from taking another wife? Your expectations are
unreasonable, Mama.”

She let out a huge sigh. “Mary was a
good woman, but she was entirely wrong for you. You and I both knew
that before you ever offered for her. Even your father said as
much.”

Not that he had had any choice in the
matter.

“
And you think someone else
could be a better duchess for me than she was?”

“
I’m more concerned that
she be a better
wife
for you.”

He chose to ignore that particular
remark. After all, if one was a good duchess, one must also be a
good wife. The idea that the two were not interchangeable was
simply unfathomable. “I see.”

She huffed at him. “Enough
with the ‘I see’ business. You clearly do
not
see, or you would have already
put yourself back on the marriage mart and be well on your way to
having more children in your nursery.”

“
You think you can find
someone to replace her?” Mary had fulfilled every obligation of the
station with elegance and ease. Not just any lady could have
handled the position with her degree of finesse. “No. I have more
than enough responsibilities to fill two lifetimes. I won’t even
consider adding to them in such a way.”

“
Responsibilities? I do
love you, as I love all of my children, but you are not always the
brightest, are you?” Mama softened her rebuke with a smile. “Can’t
you see that if you loved your wife, she wouldn’t be another burden
for you?” She reached across his desk and squeezed his hand. “I
only want to ease some of your worries, not add to
them.”

He looked at the pile of paperwork
waiting on his desk—two large stacks of the ledgers from his
various accounts, another, equally large stack of correspondence
awaiting his response, and a book of proverbs.

Those proverbs were his one diversion
these days, the one manner he allowed himself for spending his
rather limited idle time. He refused to see such a pastime as
wasteful, since at least the proverbs allowed him to grow in
wisdom. However, he likely wouldn’t be able to study them again for
weeks, at the current rate, and longer than that if he agreed to
whatever harebrained scheme his mother was currently
concocting.

“
Another person to feed,
clothe, entertain, and see to their happiness would not add to my
duties? I wish I could see the world from your perspective, but the
reality is I’m responsible for you, five siblings, two children,
and five estates, along with seeing to my duties to the crown. When
am I supposed to find time for a wife amongst all of
that?”

Not to mention he had absolutely no
desire for one. There were plenty of women prepared to satisfy his
sexual needs who didn’t insist upon the commitment a wife or even a
mistress would require. Peter failed to see what purpose taking a
new duchess could possibly serve.