“Will you have his town house open year ’round?” Portia asked.
“Yes, except for two weeks in the fall. He has to host an annual hunt at Stafford.”
“With the best guest list, of course.”
“Oh, of course.” She intended to become the ton’s premiere hostess. “I may agree to Christmas too, but I haven’t decided. We have to distribute gifts to the staff, but the housekeeper could do it for us. We wouldn’t have to actually be there in person.”
“The servants ought to be glad you notice them at all. They can hardly blame you if you don’t wish to travel in the winter.”
Veronica’s mind was awhirl with possibilities, and she frowned at Portia.
“If we stop at Stafford, we’ll add a day onto the trip. How would I explain it?”
“Honestly, Veronica, how did you ever manage without me? You simply tell your father you’re leaving on Monday and arriving at Fitzroy’s on Wednesday. Then you write to Mrs. Fitzroy and tell her you’ll be there on Thursday. She doesn’t correspond with your father. He’ll never know you were late.”
“And if I’m caught?”
“You lie to the duke and claim you spent a few hours having an innocent tour. Where’s the harm?”
“It could work,” Veronica mused.
“Yes, it could. Stick with me, Veronica, and I’ll get you where you need to go.”
Veronica snorted at that.
She was desperate to see Stafford, but it wasn’t due to any interest in the estate. It was because of Nicholas and the terrible rumors that were circulating.
From the instant news had spread about Nicholas inheriting his title, every girl in the kingdom had set her sights on him. He’d been reputed to be handsome and brave and mysterious, and in their vivid imaginations, no other man could compare.
With her white-blond hair, blue eyes, and plump figure, she was the prettiest, richest debutante to come out in ages. She hadn’t been surprised when Nicholas had met her at a ball, then spoke to her father the next morning.
The duke had had qualms about Nicholas’s low antecedents, but in light of the property he’d bring to the family, her father had gotten over his reservations quickly enough. He’d asked Veronica her opinion, and she hadn’t hesitated to accept Nicholas’s proposal.
Except that her engagement wasn’t turning out as she’d anticipated. It had her speculating over what her life would be like once she married him. She wouldn’t let him ignore her as he’d been doing.
Since their betrothal, he hadn’t danced attendance on her a single time, so she hadn’t had a chance to flaunt him at any high profile occasions. Everyone noted his absences, and awful stories had been disseminated as to why he was so busy. Veronica was anxious to learn if they were true or not.
The gossips maintained that he’d fled to the country with his mistress in tow, that he’d deliberately insulted Veronica by taking his harlot to the estate. Supposedly, his doxy would be his hostess when Veronica wasn’t in residence.
Veronica couldn’t help but be concerned.
Hadn’t she ought to check? Was it wrong to ease her mind? If word filtered to London that she’d called on him, it would quell the hideous reports. After all, Nicholas wouldn’t permit a visit if his mistress was ensconced on the premises.
Still, she couldn’t keep from asking, “What if she’s really there? What shall I do?”
“First of all, if she’s there—and I think we agree that it’s a big if—you’ll never see her. Lord Stafford will shuttle her out the back so fast her head will be spinning.”
“She’ll be gone; that’s what I want.”
“She won’t dare to return either.”
“No, she won’t.”
“And with your brazen appearance, he’ll understand that he can’t trifle with your affections.”
“He’s behaved horridly to me.”
“Yes, he has, but we’ll bring him up to snuff.”
The two friends grinned, complicit and positive they’d have the matter resolved in a trice.
Stephen started down the hall when the unexpected sound of girlish laughter had him stumbling to a halt. The mansion was so large and so empty of human habitation that it was odd to hear children’s voices.
He neared the foyer and peeked around the corner to find Miss Wilson’s sisters playing on the stairs. They were involved in a complicated game, and though he spied on them for several minutes, he couldn’t figure out the rules.
It was a heartening sign that they’d adapted so swiftly to new circumstances. Once Annie was at Stafford, he hoped she would acclimate just as rapidly. The twins were Annie’s same age. Perhaps they could be her companions.
He’d done his best by his daughter, and he intended to make up for his failings by building a life with her at Stafford. His plan was all mapped out.
Nicholas had so much land, and he didn’t care about any of it. He could be persuaded to grant some to Stephen, then instantly, Stephen would become a marvelous catch.
He’d marry a mature, sensible woman, which would provide Annie with the mother she’d never had. Then he’d have more children. He would farm and watch over his family, and he would grow old with a smile on his face.
Nicholas could waste away in the army, could wed his snotty, adolescent bride, could live in misery and gloom. Stephen was determined to be happy.
Someone knocked on the door, and he’d moved to answer it when the twins beat him to it.
He huddled in the shadows, praying it wasn’t the vicar seeking an audience with Nicholas. His brother was still in bed and extremely hung over. Stephen didn’t relish the notion of explaining to the rude minister why the earl was unavailable—and always would be!
He was delighted to discover instead that it was Josephine Merrick. Elation pounded through him, but an enormous
