The Accidental Duke (The Mad Matchmaking Men of Waterloo Book 1) by Devlin, Barbara (love letters to the dead .TXT) 📕

“Yes, I’m fine.” With bright red cheeks he found rather arresting, Arabella blinked and squared her shoulders. “Er—Papa, I wanted to show Lord Rockingham the ermine muff you purchased for me. We will join you in a minute.”

“I will not apologize for that,” Anthony stated, in a low voice.

“I should be offended if you did.” From his coat pocket, she retrieved his handkerchief. After daubing the corners of her mouth, she wiped his face, tidied his hair and cravat, and smoothed his lapels. “That should do it. How do I look?”

“Beautiful.” In so many words, he wanted to tell her what she did for him, how she provided comfort when he most needed it. The way she silenced his demons. Yet he could not compose a single coherent sentence, so he said nothing more.

“Then let us play cards, given we have much to discuss, which is the reason I invited you to dinner.” She took his hand in hers. “And I would have us plot a course to divert His Grace, because I will not let him commit you to an asylum.”

*

The shock in Anthony’s expression stunned Arabella, and she realized he had no idea what His Grace had in store for his son, after the wedding. Her mind raced, and they strolled into the drawing room. She searched for a response to console and reassure him, because she would not surrender her husband without a fight.

But how could she stop His Grace?

Sitting opposite her fiancé, at a small square table suitable for the carefree exchange of gossip, she checked her parents. Noting their half-hearted efforts to ignore the young couple, she turned and met Anthony’s turbulent gaze.

“I beg your pardon, my lord.” She swallowed hard, when she noticed tears welling in his vivid blue eyes. If only she could hold him. “I thought you privy to His Grace’s most foul scheme.”

At first, he simply shook his head.

“I knew he plotted to secure an heir for the dukedom, but I knew naught of my fate.” Then he leaned near. “Tell me everything you know.”

So as not to arouse attention, in a quiet and calm tone she imparted the dastardly plot, and he grew paler by the second, with each successive revelation, such that she feared he might swoon. Stretching her arm, she grasped his hand and twined her fingers in his. At last, she recounted the settlement the duke pledged, as part of the marriage contract, if she fulfilled her duties to beget the all-important heir.

“I am so sorry, Lord Rockingham.” She would have given anything to spare him the pain, but he had to know the truth, because he was in danger. “Indeed, I thought His Grace’s ploy was your primary motivation for fleeing London, and it would make sense.”

“I knew nothing of my planned commitment, but that is no surprise, given we rarely speak.” He shivered, and she gave him a gentle squeeze. “But I never imagined this. Commitment, as if I am naught more than some embarrassing trifle to be locked away.”

“I will not allow it.” How she ached for Anthony, and she choked on overwhelming rage at his father. No matter what happened, she would not let a war hero end his days in an institution when there was nothing wrong with him, other than the fact that he was human. “I know not how, but I will save you. I will find a way—I swear it on our firstborn.”

“You are fierce, Lady Arabella.” For a brief moment, he smiled, but his good humor faded just as fast as it emerged. “I hesitate to point out you are just a woman. By law, you are but property, yet you know this, so what do you propose to do about my predicament when my father holds the power to destroy me, on a whim, and you scarcely exist in this world?”

“I don’t pretend to possess all the answers to our quandary—and it is our quandary, my lord.” When Papa cleared his throat, she grabbed the deck and dealt the cards. “But I cannot sit idly and let you be taken from me, so I will do something.”

“Brave words for a little lady.” He studied the cards and frowned. “While I hate to disappoint you, I must remind you that I have but one hand. How am I to hold my cards and play them, at the same time?”

“Oh, I forgot.” She leapt from her chair and snatched a parcel from the mantelpiece. After returning to her seat, she presented the gift. “I had this commissioned for you, in preparation for our game, because I thought it might prove useful, and we should maintain the ruse for my parents.”

“Of course.” When Anthony fumbled with the bow, which she tied with care, she held still the box, and he tugged on the ribbon. He lifted the lid and arched a brow. “What is it?”

“It is my design, and I hope it suffices.” From the bed of cotton, she removed the slender wooden platform and set it before him. “The slit is for your cards, so you may draw at your leisure, without showing your hand.”

“Ingenious.” Trailing a finger along the top of the platform, he smiled in earnest. “I know not how to thank you.”

“But you will try.” No, that was not a proper response for a lady of character, but she supposed it mattered not, given she teased her future husband. And she did so cherish his kisses.

“You may depend upon it.” For a precious instant, Anthony held her stare, and what she glimpsed quite took her breath away. Bereft of the stress and anguish that often marked their interactions, she spied a rake of incomparable caliber, the sort young ladies spoke of when their mothers were not listening, and gooseflesh covered her from head to toe. “But I would have you answer a question.”

“You may have anything you wish.” When he arched a brow, she stiffened her spine. “I mean…that is