Not that looks were paramount, but his suit was peacock satin, adorned with so much dangling ribbon and lace that it seemed to quiver when he breathed. No matter the current fashion, Kendra had an aversion to men who wore prettier clothes than she did. A simple, dark velvet suit—like those her brothers favored—was far more to her taste.
Not to mention the expense of Lechmere’s apparel could probably fund an orphanage for a month. Having been orphaned herself at the age of one, she would much rather have seen the money spent there.
And he was a duke.
“Kendra plays the harpsichord like an angel,” Jason said, patting her arm from the coral-colored velvet armchair beside hers. She darted him a look. While it was true she played well, never in her life had she heard her name and the word angel in the same sentence. Especially not from her oldest brother, who had seen her through more than a few rebellious stages.
“An admirable accomplishment.” The duke waved a ring-encrusted hand. “I should like to hear Lady Kendra perform this eve.”
“And she’s a brilliant conversationalist,” Ford added, sending her into a coughing fit. Od’s fish, her twin hardly drew breath but to tell her she talked too much! Oh, she’d give him an earful of brilliant conversation later.
Just as soon as she figured out how to get rid of this mullipuff.
“Though she seems rather tongue-tied now,” Jason drawled. “First time in my memory.”
Kendra would have thrown a cushion at him were they not in polite company.
Actually, that was an idea. Men of Lechmere’s age and station were exceedingly dignified and stuffy, weren’t they? Perhaps exhibiting poor manners would put him off.
She was startled from her thoughts by a sound like a trumpet, which proved to be the duke blowing his nose, loudly and long, into a frilly handkerchief.
Perhaps not.
“As I was saying,” Lechmere sniffed, stuffing the handkerchief into his sleeve, “speechlessness in a lady is no sin.” Kendra disliked the way his unsmiling gray gaze swept her from head to toe. “I assure you, my dear, I’m not looking for conversation. I prefer a quiet, docile woman.”
Heavens above. She’d better think of something, and quick.
When Jason asked her to pour the wine, she rose from her armchair and let herself trip on the edge of the drawing room’s patterned black-and-coral carpet.
“Oh, I’m so clumsy,” Kendra said.
She wasn’t.
“Take care,” Jason warned under his breath, then smiled at Lechmere. Kendra giggled.
She never giggled.
“That’s quite all right,” the duke said, calmly offering his goblet. He didn’t seem put off in the least.
Hang it. She’d have to do worse.
With exaggerated force, she pulled the stopper from the decanter and let it fly across the room to hit a portrait of one of her ancestors square on his painted forehead. Her great-great grandfather, the second Marquess of Cainewood.
“Kendra!” Ford and Jason cried.
She turned to see the duke’s reaction: he had his face buried in his handkerchief again. He’d missed the whole thing.
Hang it! She looked back to the second marquess for help. He seemed rather less forbidding than many of her other ancestors. Still, no advice was forthcoming.
“Quite all right, my dear.” Lechmere repeated, clearing his throat. “It’s natural for a young girl to be nervous when meeting a man of my stature. When you’re a duchess—”
“When I’m a duchess, I shall open lots of orphanages!” she said, changing tactics. “There are so many disadvantaged children who would blossom with a proper education in a caring environment. And speaking of blossoms, have you extensive gardens, your grace? Because I’ve theories on crossbreeding flowers—”
“I told you she’s a good conversationalist,” Ford interrupted.
“She certainly has, hmm, creative ideas,” said the duke, not unindulgently.
Hang it, hang it, hang it!
“Here, your grace, let me just take this goblet.” She reached to snatch it from his hand, cringing when her fingers met his cold, clammy ones. “My, what a lovely ruby.” The ring she was speaking of sported a stone wider than the thumb it was lodged on. “Amy would adore seeing it, I’m sure.”
“Amy?”
“My sister-in-law. My brother Colin’s wife. She’s a jeweler.” Kendra set the goblet on the table with a bang that made everyone jump.
“Your brother’s wife is a jeweler?” The duke looked positively scandalized.
Aha!
She had him now.
“Oh, yes.” Kendra couldn’t quite keep a triumphant grin off her face. “Colin found Amy on the streets of London.” Which was true, in a sense—since he’d rescued her from the Great Fire two years earlier—but more than a tad misleading. Though her family had been commoners, Amy was educated and wealthy in her own right. “Of course, she’s a countess now as well, but a jeweler all the same.”
“Hmmph,” the duke sniffed.
“Yes, your grace. It’s an admirable thing for a woman to be more than just a lady, don’t you think? Well, let me just pour, then.”
And she did—right into his lap.
He jumped up, watching in horror as a red stain spread on the turquoise satin in a very embarrassing place. “I think I’ve had enough, my lady, of both the wine and yourself. If you’ll excuse me.” With his pointy nose in the air, he strode stiffly from the room.
“Crossbreeding flowers?” When her twin’s eyes met her own, they both burst out laughing.
But Jason wasn’t amused. “Very charming, Kendra.” Elbows on the arms of his chair, fingers steepled, he pinned her with stern green eyes. “That’s one prospect off your list. Need I remind you who is left? I’ll expect a decision after the weekend, and you’ll be wed by the end of the summer.”
THREE
KENDRA AWOKE the next morning with a massive headache.
Jason couldn’t be serious.
He and Ford and Colin were off to a monthly house party they attended—no females allowed—and, as usual, she and Caithren would be joined by their sister-in-law, Amy, and her baby daughter, Jewel, for the weekend. Usually they had something of a house party of their own, playing with the babe and gossiping
