'How should I know? He sent a note this morning, informing his mother of the details. He intends to bring some chit to tea today.' She shuddered. 'I shan't be there, of course. It would be inappropriate for me to overshadow my sister's tea just because she lives upon my indulgence. And besides, we have agreed that you will stop this nonsense immediately.'
Of course they had agreed. Never mind that Declan might have a different opinion. But, rather than address any of the many objectionable things she'd said, he decided to focus on the most important. 'Cedric is engaged?'
'Not officially, of course. That's what you have to stop!'
Good Lord, the woman's voice was a near shriek—and she was a woman who never raised her voice. He waited for her to continue while simultaneously hoping that she would expire upon the spot.
She did not do either. In the end, he had to prompt her. 'Why should I stop it?'
'Because the girl is miserably unsuitable. His mother and I have discussed this often. We have decided on the ladies who will serve the Earldom. This chit does not.'
Yes, he knew that the two women had developed lists of eligible girls for their sons. It was their favourite discussion and they never thought to involve their sons in any of their decisions.
'Who is this woman?'
'She's the illegitimate child of Lord Wenshire, and Cedric is bringing her to tea.' She made a face as if the man was bringing spoiled fish.
'Shouldn't you meet the woman before—?'
'Unsuitable!' she snapped.
He winced. 'Yes, I heard that.'
'Fix it.'
He waited a moment, staring at his mother's rigid face. He wondered for a long, self-indulgent moment what she would do if he refused. There were several hundred ways she could make his life unpleasant, but at the end of the day it would merely be uncomfortable. He was now the Duke, she the Dowager Duchess. Officially, he held all the power. He could refuse her at his whim.
But that was the response of a child, not an adult, and certainly not one of a duke. His cousin's choice of wife was significant, not simply because Cedric was a future earl. Cedric stood shoulder to shoulder with Declan as leaders of their respective branches of the family. A wife would influence the family for better or worse in very significant ways.
Declan owed it to everyone to meet the girl.
'Very well,' he said as he set aside the paper unread. 'I will go.'
His mother nodded with a self-satisfied smile. 'I knew you would rise to the occasion. I hope you see now how intemperance one night makes the next morning nearly unbearable.'
He gritted his teeth. Damn the woman for being right. Several caustic words burned on his tongue, but he swallowed them down. She was still his mother, not to mention a duchess, and therefore deserved some respect. Also, cutting into her for her overbearing, supercilious, condescending attitude would be like scolding a dog for having fur. It was simply who the woman was, and he had ceased tilting at windmills some time in his early adolescence.
He did arch his brows at her, in an attempt at ducal arrogance. 'I cannot dress with you here,' he said. 'And therefore I cannot depart for this boat.'
She sniffed, as if his words had an actual smell. 'First you will deal with your cousin, and then I should like you to attend Almack's this Thursday. There are several girls I have selected who will make excellent duchesses—after my instruction, of course. Select one this week and you can be well on your way to filling a nursery this time next year.'
He didn't bother interrupting her. The woman rarely stopped speaking even when interrupted. So he waited in stiff silence until she was silent. Then he gave her a single, hard word.
'No.'
'What—?'
'No.'
She rolled her eyes, then abruptly decided on a gentler approach. She settled herself in the chair opposite his and spoke calmly.
