The Unmarriageable Collection (Books 1–3)

by Lancaster, Mary

  Henrietta giggled. “Liar.”

  Feeling as if she had already completed a day’s hard toil in the fields, Charlotte made her way to her own chamber. She doubted anyone would notice if she simply hid there reading until dinner… but then, she did want to observe the duke, at least.

  She could hear Spring’s excited crying and barking long before she reached her own chamber. “What has set you off now, you ridiculous creature?” she demanded, opening the door.

  Spring shot past her like a cannon ball, his frayed leash flapping along the passage with him. He had chewed through it.

  “Oh no,” Charlotte muttered, rushing after him. Go upstairs, go up, she prayed.

  Inevitably, he went down, hurling himself at the staircase with joyful abandon. Clearly, he had some scent in his nostrils and was in single-minded, relentless pursuit.

  Charlotte dashed after him. Catching sight of the under-footman, who was opening doors for Jonathan bearing the tea tray to the green salon, she called out in a stage whisper.

  “Watch out for the dog! Gerald, catch him!”

  Gerald made a brave effort, hurling himself at Spring while Jonathan stood stock still, gripping the tray. But the dog swerved at the last moment, avoiding Gerald’s clutching arms and threw himself at the salon door.

  It gave under his weight, and he was in.

  “Oh, the devil,” Charlotte exclaimed in most unladylike language. Her last hope now was that the duke was not yet present in the room. Perhaps Papa had taken him off to look at horses, or books, or whatever interested the wretched man.

  A shriek told her that her mother at least was present.

  “Good luck, Miss,” Gerald breathed as Charlotte squared her shoulders and hurried in after the dog.

  Her apology died on her lips, but it seemed her prayer had been answered. Lots of prayers, in fact. For although her mother and father were both present in the room, the duke was not. Instead, none other than Mr. Alexander rose from the chair facing the window.

  Spring remained sitting on his foot, dementedly wagging his tail and wheefling, but otherwise, perfectly still.

  Mr. Alexander raised his cool, grey eyes to Charlotte’s face and she laughed with as much pleasure as pure relief. “Oh, thank God it’s you!” she exclaimed. “I was terrified you were the duke!”

  There was an instant when she understood that something was wrong, very wrong. He did not smile, or acknowledge her in any way, save for the smallest, coldest of bows. Silence shrieked at her.

  And then her father said ominously, “He is the duke.”

  Chapter Five

  “Really, Charlotte, your manners grow odder by the day,” Lady Overton exclaimed with a slightly nervous little laugh. “Make your curtsey to his grace, then take the dog away and change your dress.”

  Blushing fierily, Charlotte bobbed a quick curtsey.

  “My second daughter, Miss Charlotte Maybury,” Lady Overton said apologetically. “Charlotte, his grace the Duke of Alvan.”

  “Miss Charlotte and I have met before,” the duke remarked. “Although not formally. How do you do?”

  Not the smallest smile lurked in his cool, guarded eyes, nothing to acknowledge their friendship. He might have been a completely different man. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

  Instead, she muttered some inanity, and bent down to scoop up the dog, “He chewed through his leash,” she told her parents. “Excuse me.”

  Almost blindly, she got herself and the dog out of the room. She found she was shaking with laughter—or hysteria—and yet cringed with memory of the things she had told him about her family. Had he known who she was all along? Had he used her to find out about the family he was contemplating alliance with?

  Oh dear, have I ruined it for Tommie? For all of us?

  Spring licked her nose.

  “Thank you,” she said unsteadily. “And of course, you are quite right. I am too unimportant in such great matters. I hope.”

  She had just changed into her more respectable gown and was pinning her hair when a scratch at the door heralded the appearance of Eliza, who smiled when she saw her and pushed the door wide. Her brothers trooped in behind her.

  “Did Spring escape?” George asked in delight. “Did he jump on the duke? What’s he like?”

  “Yes, he escaped, but no, he didn’t jump on the duke because he has turned out to be someone we’ve already met. Mr. Alexander.”

  Their mouths fell open in gratifying shock, which at least made Charlotte feel better.

  “Well that’s a relief,” Richard said. “Tommie will be fine.”

  “We can visit and I can see all his horses,” George said in awe. “Do you suppose he would let me drive his curricle?”

  “That’s hardly for me to say,” Charlotte managed. “Will you keep an eye on Spring for me? Don’t let him chew through another leash, and don’t let him escape again or Mama will put me outside in the kennel with him.”

  Leaving the children giggling, she went downstairs at a more decorous pace than previously, and quietly entered the green salon, which now also contained Thomasina and Henrietta. They did not sit side by side, but separately, with Thomasina on a chair close to the duke, and Henrietta on a sofa a little further away. Their father stood with his back to the fireplace, smiling benignly, while Mama sat in state behind the tea tray.

  With just the right note of shy but friendly memory, Thomasina was recalling a concert that she and the duke had both attended in London in the autumn. The duke rose politely as Charlotte entered, but she did not look at him as she walked up to her mother who waved impatiently at the tea pot. While Tommie made conversation, Charlotte poured herself a cup of tea and retreated to sit by Henrietta.

  Perhaps it was because everyone gazed at him and hung on his words, but without saying very much at all, the duke seemed to fill the room, dominating it without effort or even very many words.

  “I expect I have missed so many delightful concerts and operas since I left,” Thomasina said with regret. “What was your favorite, sir?”

  “I have not been in London,” he replied. “I spend most of my time on my estates. You have a good place here, my lord,” he added to Lord Overton, who grunted.

  “I let it go too much when I was abroad,” he said frankly. “An estate needs its master.”

  “I agree,” the duke said at once. “But a man can have many conflicting duties. Miss Charlotte, I trust you and your brothers are all well after your adventures?”

  Charlotte, struck by his unexpectedly kind words to her father, took a moment before she realized he had addressed her directly. “Thank you, yes,” she managed.

  “What adventures?” Henrietta asked curiously.

  “At the Hart Inn—I told you.”

  Henrietta blinked. “I thought you made it up to entertain the boys.”

  “So did I,” Thomasina said, regarding Charlotte with narrowed eyes. “And yet you had met his grace.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t know it was his grace,” Charlotte said hurriedly. “It was not the situation for formal introductions.” She met the duke’s cool gaze. “I trust you found your friend’s house without difficulty.” Her eyes widened as she connected his friend with the duke’s late visit to their distant neighbor. “Your friend must be Lord Verne! Which is another mystery you must help us solve.”

  “Charlotte,” her mother warned, almost between her teeth.

  Charlotte flushed, recognizing her indiscretion. But she said with defiance, “His grace likes mysteries.”

  “I do,” his grace confessed. “But I’m afraid Verne is not one of them.”

  Oh, but he is… Charlotte bit her lip to prevent her retort, but the duke had already turned back to Thomasina. “And you, Miss Maybury, are you a lover of gothic tales and mysteries?”

  “Only in books,” Thomasina replied, with a smile. “Not in real life. I am much too practical to indulge in speculations of that kind.”

  “Ha,” Henrietta m
urmured beneath her breath.

  *

  The following morning, before breakfast, Charlotte put Spring on the leash and went in search of her younger siblings. Finding none of them in their chambers, she left the house by the side door nearest the woods, where she could let the dog scamper off the leash to his heart’s content.

  “Charlie!”

  Turning, Charlotte beheld the children waving madly to her. Unexpectedly, they were clustered around the duke.

  For no reason, her heart gave a little bump. His grace seemed quite at his ease, one foot up on the low wall that surrounded the formal garden, his forearm resting casually on his thigh. Like the children, he looked toward her.

  Spring, torn between the scent of the wood and the scent of more of his favorite people, barked joyously, but didn’t pull. Charlotte lifted her hand with a bright smile, and turned determinedly back toward the wood, Spring trotting along beside her. The duke’s presence at Audley Park seemed to keep her too churned up for comfort, though she didn’t know why. He was not an uncivil or difficult guest—far from it—and his conversation was amusing in a quiet, understated way that she rather liked. And yet, his company made her unhappy, perhaps because he still seemed so different from “Mr. Alexander.”

  So far as she knew, he had not yet spoken to Papa about paying his addresses to Thomasina, but there could be no doubt he thought well of her. And she of him.

  “Do you know, he is much more handsome than I remembered?” Thomasina had confided at bedtime. “I believe I shall like to be his wife as well as his duchess.”

  This confidence should have relieved Charlotte, and on one level, it did. For the rest, she was unaccountably anxious not to run into him more than she had to.

  Entering the wood by the main path, she bent and unclipped Spring’s leash. He shot off into the undergrowth like a bullet. From behind came the familiar running footsteps of her siblings and she smiled, glad of their distracting company.

  But when she turned, she found the duke striding along in their midst. Which was not what she wanted at all. With an effort, she kept the welcoming smile pinned to her lips.

  “I see you have been waylaid,” she said lightly to the duke.

  “And glad to be so.”

  Charlotte regarded his smart coat and immaculately polished boots with some doubt. “I’m not sure you’re quite dressed for a walk with Spring.”

  “He’ll cover you in mud,” Richard agreed. “And there are wild blackberry bushes in here, guaranteed to rip your clothes to shreds if you don’t pay attention.”

  “Well, it will give Hanson something to do,” the duke observed.

  Spring came crashing back through the undergrowth at that point, ran rings around them like a sheep dog, and bolted back into the bushes. Horatio and Eliza ran after him, laughing.

  Charlotte became aware of the duke’s gaze on her face and risked a glance at him.

  “Unless I am disturbing your solitude,” he said lightly.

  “Hardly,” she managed. “I am glad of the company.”

  Richard and George ran ahead, shouting to each other as they swung from tree branches like monkeys.

  “I am relieved,” the duke said. “I was afraid I had somehow offended you.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, no! How could you have imagined such a thing?”

  “You appear to be avoiding me.”

  Blood seeped into her face. She looked away. “If I am,” she said with difficulty, “it is because I am aware of saying things I should not at the Hart.”

  “I don’t recall your saying anything untoward.”

  “That is because you were foxed,” she said candidly. Appalled at herself, she risked a glance at him. His eyes danced, much like Mr. Alexander’s, and she found herself smiling back with happy relief. “I should not have said that either.”

  “I wouldn’t say it in public,” he acknowledged. “But feel free to speak your mind to me. On the other hand, I deny being foxed, merely a very little disguised.”

  “Ha,” Charlotte said dubiously.

  They walked on for a little, listening to the birds’ song mingling with the children’s chatter.

  “Did you know who we were?” Charlotte blurted.

  “Not at first. Later, I suspected.”

  “Why did you not say? Tell us who you really were?”

  He seemed to hesitate, then shrugged. “I don’t always like to be his grace the duke. Sometimes it is pleasant to be just a private gentleman.”

  She searched his averted face, catching a hint of loneliness that tugged her heart. But she couldn’t be sure, for it vanished almost at once.

  He glanced down at her. “I even imagined, at one point, that you might already know.”

  She blinked. “Why would you think that?”

  He gave another, more impatient shrug. “People waylay me for all sorts of reasons with all sorts of stories.”

  Spring chose that moment to hurtle out of the trees and throw himself joyfully at the duke, merely it seemed as a stepping stone to Charlotte. Hard on his heels came Horatio and Eliza, howling with laughter as Charlotte pushed the terrier down. He licked her hand and dashed off again.

  Charlotte glanced at the paw prints on the Duke’s buff pantaloons and forgot to be angry with him. “Poor Hanson,” she remarked.

  *

  When they returned from their walk, the first footman let them in the front door. “Who’s in the breakfast room, Jonathan?” Charlotte asked him.

  “No one as yet, Miss. But breakfast is served.”

  Since there seemed little point keeping them out, Charlotte let the children go into breakfast with the duke, although she sent the twins upstairs with the dog first. His grace seemed happy enough to go into breakfast without changing. In fact, he seemed once more the amiable friend of the Hart than the distant duke of yesterday, and Charlotte was glad to be with him a little longer.

  Her father, never at his best in the morning, wandered in about ten minutes later and grunted to find so many people there. But he wished the duke a polite good morning and accepted a cup of coffee from Charlotte.

  He’d drunk a good few mouthfuls before he again swept his frowning gaze around his younger offspring. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the nursery?”

  “We all met up on our walk,” Charlotte said. “And they were hungry.”

  “His grace doesn’t mind us,” Horatio said with his mouth full.

  “He might now,” Charlotte murmured, nudging him to silence.

  “I beg you won’t restrain Spring on my account, either,” the duke said. “He and I have an understanding and I am more than happy to go along with your usual customs.”

  “Very civil of you, Alvan,” Papa said seriously, picking up the letter in front of him. “Very civil indeed.”

  He unfolded the paper and was clearly about to toss it aside when he gave it a second glance, and frowned. “This is from the landlord of the Hart Inn. He’s sent me an account for your night’s lodging, including dinner and breakfast. Dashed cheek when the man wasn’t even there. Does he really expect us to pay?”

  “I said you would, Papa,” Charlotte said anxiously. “And in truth, they may not deserve a tip, but we did eat their food and use their linen. Did he say why he was absent?”

  “He doesn’t even mention that he was!”

  “Well, if he’s back now, I shall have to pay my bill, too,” Alvan said. His guileless eyes met Charlotte’s. “Perhaps we may ride over there one day when the weather is good? Make an expedition of it. I’m sure we could do it in one day.”

  “Oh, you could,” Papa agreed.

  The door opened and Thomasina came in, looking fresh and lovely with not a hair out of place. “Good morning.”

  She received a cheerful chorus in response, and the duke rose politely.

  “What expedition are we planning?” Thomasina asked, and when it was explained, pronounced herself in favor. “We can make an early start, have luncheon at the inn, an
d return in time for tea. Shall we go tomorrow if the weather is fine? Papa, will you and Mama come?”

  “Lord, no,” Papa said with feeling. “Our days of galloping around the country for no reason are past! But you and Henrietta may go, and Richard. Take Jim with you.”

  Stricken, Charlotte stared at her oblivious parent, who began to eat his breakfast. Hastily, she dropped her gaze. There were no longer enough horses for them all to go at one time. Of course, Thomasina must go… and Henrie for background beauty. But this was her mystery.

  Perhaps Thomasina saw her distress, for although she had been all smiles a moment before, she said, “Oh, Henrie won’t care for such a thing. Charlotte would rather come and discover the secret of the missing innkeeper herself.”

  Papa looked surprised, but shrugged. “If you’d rather have Charlotte, I don’t mind. She’s got more sense than Henrie, certainly.”

  Charlotte cast Tommie a fleeting smile. For some reason, she thought Alvan’s gaze was on her but she did not look at him.

  “Why can’t we come?” George demanded. “It’s our mystery, too.”

  “Not enough horses,” Richard said smugly. “Why don’t we go today?”

  “Because it’s too late to start, now. And we are having guests for dinner this evening so we can’t be late,” Thomasina said succinctly.

  “Who is coming for dinner?” Charlotte asked.

  “Just a few friends and neighbors,” Tommie said. “Mr. and Mrs. Walsh.”

  “Mr. Walsh is the vicar,” Horatio explained, wrinkling his nose.

  Thomasina ignored him. “And the Laceys from Seldon Manor, with their son and daughter and two house guests—whom you probably know. Lord Dunstan and Mr. Cornell.”

  Alvan’s knife stilled. Although his expression did not change, Charlotte felt his sudden tension as if it were her own. Then he finished cutting a piece of his ham, “I am acquainted with Lord Dunstan.”

  “Excellent,” Papa said jovially. “Makes a cozier party if you are friends already.”

  *

  There was a point in the afternoon, before it was time for tea, when Charlotte finally had half an hour to herself. The dining room was prepared and the table set, the cook was happy, and the servants organized to cover for the shortage of trained footmen to serve dinner.