Letitia stood. “I must go and speak with Royce.”
“You know,” Clarice said, “I always thought our husbands treated him with a respect that was somewhat overstated-as if they credited him with more power, more ability, than he or any man could possibly have.” She raised her brows. “After seeing him in action downstairs, I’ve revised my opinion.”
“Was he diabolical?” Letitia asked.
Clarice considered. “Mildly so. It was more a case of everyone being suddenly reminded of the Wolverstone family emblem-that it has teeth.”
“Well,” Penny said, “for my money, he has every right to feel savage.”
“Be that as it may,” Letitia said, “I have to go and bait the wolf.”
“He’s shut up in his study,” Clarice told her. “ ’Ware the snarls.”
“He might snarl, but he won’t bite. At least, not me.” Le titia paused at the door. “I hope.”
On that note, she left.
Minerva frowned into her glass, now less than half full-then set it aside. After a moment, she rose and tugged the bellpull; when a footman arrived, she said, “Please inform Lady Margaret, Lady Aurelia, and Lady Susannah that I wish to speak with them. Here. Immediately.”
The footman bowed-lower than normal; clearly the household already knew of her impending change in station-and withdrew.
Meeting Clarice’s inquiring glance, Minerva smiled-intently. “I believe it’s time I clarified matters. Aside from all else, with a ducal wedding to organize, the house party ends tomorrow night.”
Royce was standing at the window when Jeffers entered to announce Letitia; he turned as she came in. “How is she?”
Letitia arched a brow. “Upset, of course.”
The fury he’d been holding at bay-clamped tight inside-rose up at the thought, the confirmation. He turned back to look blindly out at his fields. After a long moment, during which Letitia wisely remained silent and still, he bit off, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
Every word was invested with cold, hard rage.
The same words that had rung in his head as he’d driven back to Wolverstone after so many years away.
When he’d driven home to bury his father.
This time, the rage was even greater. “I can’t believe-can’t understand why-Susannah would do such a thing, even if, as she claims, she was trying to help.” That was the other element that was eating at him. He raked a hand through his hair. “What help is this-essentially forcing us into marriage?”
Letitia saw the tremble in his hand, didn’t mistake it for weakness; it was pure rage distilled. But he wouldn’t be so angry, so close to true rage, if he didn’t care-deeply- about Minerva’s feelings. If he didn’t have deep feelings of his own.
She was a Vaux-an expert in emotional scenes, in reading the undercurrents, the real passions beneath. Yet if she told him how pleased she was to see him so distraught, he’d bite her head off.
Besides, she had another role to fill. Lifting her head, she imperiously asked, “The announcement-have you written it?”
She hoped her tone would refocus his attention.
He continued to stare out. A minute ticked by. She waited.
“No.” After a moment, he added, “I will.”
“Just do it.” She softened her voice. “You know it has to be done, and urgently.” Realizing that he was at sea- on a storm-tossed emotional ocean he, of all men, was poorly equipped to navigate-she went on, “Get your secretary to pen it, then show it to Minerva and get her consent. Regardless, it must be on the mail coach to London tonight.”
He didn’t immediately respond, but then he nodded. Curtly. “It will be.”
“Good.” She bobbed a curtsy, turned, and walked to the door.
He stirred, glanced at her. “Can you tell Margaret she’s hostess tonight?”
Her hand on the doorknob, she looked at him. “Yes, of course.”
His chest swelled; for the first time he met her eyes. “Tell Minerva I’ll come and see her in a little while-once I’ve got the announcement drafted.”
Once he had his temper in hand. As a Vaux, Letitia knew all about temper-and she could see his roiling in his eyes.
He went on, “We’ll dine in my apartments.”
“I’ll keep her company until then. Clarice, Jack, and Penny are going to mingle, to make sure there’s no…uninformed talk.” She smiled, anticipating doing the same herself-and putting a not-so-tiny flea in Susannah’s ear. “I’ll join them once you come for Minerva.”
“Thank you. All of you.”
Turning to the door, she smiled rather more delightedly, knowing he couldn’t see. “Believe me, it’s our pleasure.” She paused, hand on the knob. “We can discuss the wedding tomorrow.”
He grunted.
At least it wasn’t a snarl. She let herself out, closing the door behind her. Glancing at Royce’s footman standing utterly blank-faced along the wall, she smiled gloriously. “Despite all, this is going to work out very well.”
With that, she hurried back to the morning room, to relate to Minerva all she’d seen, heard-and deduced.
Minerva had assuaged a great deal of her anger by the time Royce joined her in the morning room. Having successfully dealt first with his sisters, and then the assembled ladies, having ensured all knew precisely how unamused she was over Susannah’s misplaced meddling, and having made her expectations, as the soon-to-be Duchess of Wolverstone, of their behavior over the matter abundantly plain, she was feeling much more settled as she stood looking out of the window, idly surveying his domain.
Royce’s gaze locked on her the instant he opened the door, but she didn’t turn around.
Seated on the sofa facing the door, Letitia rose. “I was about to go down.” She glided forward.
Royce held the door open for her. She touched his arm, glanced back at Minerva. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Without looking around, Minerva nodded-a tense, brief nod.
With a pat for him, Letitia left. He closed the door, hesitated-sent a prayer winging to any god that might be listening that Minerva wouldn’t cry. Feminine tears usually left him unaffected, but her tears would shred his control, rupture his tenuous hold on his temper-and the gods alone knew who he’d strike out at, or how. Not her, of course, but…
Breathing in, mentally shoring up his defenses, emotional ones he rarely used, he walked to her side.
It was early evening; beyond the window, the shadows were lengthening, laying a purple wash over his lands. Spine poker straight, arms crossed, she was looking out, but he’d swear not seeing.
Halting beside her, he angled his head the better to see her features. She turned her head and met his gaze.
Her expression was controlled, composed, more so than he’d expected; her eyes…were unusually hard, and more unreadable than he’d ever seen, but…he could detect not a hint of tears.
Chin firm, she tipped her head toward the door. “They’re really quite remarkable-Letitia, Penny, Clarice, and Jack. I’m sure between them they’ll have the entire company in well-rehearsed order come morning.”
Her tone was crisp, briskly businesslike. Determined. Steady assurance shone through her composed faзade.
Confusion swamped him. Didn’t she feel…
Her eyes locked on his. “No, it wasn’t, but what happened was neither my fault nor yours. Regardless, however much we may wish matters otherwise, we’re faced with the situation as is, and we need to deal with it-to make the best of it. To take control and make it work for us, not against us.”
He mentally blinked. She was behaving as if what had occurred was some minor hiccup along their road. A
