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

slippers. “What will you do if the duke does not answer the summons your father dispatched? After all, it has been more than a sennight, and you’ve had no word.”

“Papa had his solicitor draw up papers, accusing Swanborough of breaching the marital contract.” It had been a difficult decision on Papa’s part, owing to his longstanding friendship, but he pledged to protect Arabella, and footmen continued to guard the house. “Even now, he meets with his advisor, concerning the return of my dowry.”

“Then he means to go through with it?” Patience’s mouth fell agape, and she blinked. “He will sue for dissolution of the union?” When Arabella nodded, Patience gasped. “Then Lord Ainsworth will take the duke to court?”

“It is the only way to bring Swanborough to heel and negotiate Anthony’s release.” Arabella pushed from the chaise and stood before the window. “Given the law defines me as chattel, I have no standing to pursue legal remedies to rectify the absence of my lawful husband. My father must take action, on my behalf.”

“What happens if the duke counters your father’s suit?” Patience inclined her head. “Where does that leave you?”

“I’m not sure.” And the answer to that question kept Arabella awake most nights, pondering life without Anthony. “However, I will not surrender without a fight, and neither will I simply go along with whatever Swanborough wants. I will see my husband freed, or I will not yield.”

“That is wise.” Patience tapped a finger to her cheek. “In reality, you hold the power, because you carry the babe. While it is not the most reputable defense, it is the most logical, and I would argue you have no choice. Lord Rockingham’s heir is the key to your success or failure. To secure your future happiness, you must avail yourself of every advantage. After all, you said it yourself, you are but property, with no standing.”

“Which is why I must bargain with Swanborough for my husband’s salvation.” Arabella worried her lower lip and pondered Anthony’s location. Where could his father have sent him? “Thus far, we have heard nothing. Papa awaits a letter or some response from his friend. I would prefer the duke make his case, in person, because—”

The door opened to reveal Lord Beaulieu. As his gaze lit on Patience, his expression morphed into something almost wolfish.

“Good afternoon, Lady Rockingham.” He saluted Arabella and marched straight to Patience, where he took her hands in his and kissed the backs of her bare knuckles. “Miss Wallace, always a pleasure to see you. And how is your father?”

“He is well, Lord Beaulieu. I shall tell him you remembered him.” Cheeks flushed, Patience dipped her chin in deference, given he outranked her. “And your parents?”

“Quite well, thank you.” To Arabella’s shock, the bold lord plopped beside Patience, on the sofa. Then he splayed an arm, to drape it along her shoulders, in an outrageous display of familiarity, and Patience slowly inched to the end of the cushion. Arabella bit her tongue against laughter but made a mental note to monitor the situation. “I thought you might like to know the results of my man’s search for the major.”

“Do tell, my lord.” Arabella came alert and returned to sit on the chaise. “What did he learn?”

“Not much, I am afraid.” Beaulieu extended a leg and scrutinized his polished Hessian. “He made a thorough investigation but discovered no hint of Rockingham’s whereabouts. After canvassing Weybridge, he interviewed the innkeeper, who stated the major made a decent run of it, after our departure, but in the end Shaw’s men, in too great a number, overcame Rockingham. Beyond that, we discovered nothing new. I am so sorry.”

“Thank you, for looking for him.” Crestfallen, Arabella slumped and considered her next move. “Any news of Swanborough? I had thought we would have heard something by now.”

“I have it on good authority that he is en route to the city.” Although he focused his gaze on Arabella, Beaulieu shifted and moved closer to Patience. “And he has engaged his solicitor. I expect we will know something, sooner than later, which bodes well for the major. Also, it should please you to know the remaining Mad Matchmakers arrived, last night, so we are all in attendance.”

“That is a most welcome development.” Arabella cautioned herself not to overstimulate herself. Then something occurred to her. A mystery she had longed to solve. “Lord Beaulieu, forgive my impertinence, if I give offense, but I would pose a personal question, if I may.”

“By all means, Lady Arabella. I have no secrets.” When he sidled nearer still, Patience jumped from the sofa, but Beaulieu caught a fistful of her skirt and held fast. “Where are you going, Miss Wallace?”

“Unhand me, sir.” Patience tried to wrench loose, but Beaulieu refused to relent. “You are no gentleman, and you take liberties that are not yours to own.”

“Did I ever claim to be anything so noble?” He snorted and tugged Patience back to her seat. “Now then, where were we? Ah, yes. Lady Arabella’s query. Suffice it to say, I address my friend by his military rank, as opposed to his title, as a sign of respect, given the one he inherited by birth and the other he earned.”

“You say you are no gentleman, but those are pretty words for a rake.” Arabella knew not what to make of the one-eyed earl. “And I warn you, Lord Beaulieu, do not accost my friend, or you will deal with me, and I am in no mood to be trifled with. Do so at your peril.”

“A thousand apologies, Lady Rockingham, if I injured the delicate flower.” Beaulieu chuckled.

“Delicate flower, indeed.” Patience drew herself up with high dudgeon. “I would have you know I am a vast deal stronger than I look, and you would do well to remember that, sir.”

“Delighted to hear it, as you do not disappoint, Miss Wallace.” To Arabella, Beaulieu said, “It has nothing to do with polite decorum, my lady.” He averted his stare and sighed. “It