Page 32 of Distracting the Duke

Clara felt an odd tensing in her gut. “Ah. Good.”

“Are you all right, Aunt Clara?”

“I’m fine. I may have eaten my breakfast too quickly. What are the other letters?”

“There’s one from the duke for Uncle Philip, as well.”

Clara’s letter trembled in her hand. She couldn’t wait a second longer to open it, but she was dying to know what was in Philip’s letter, too. She told Ellie, “I’m just going for a stroll to cool down. Please let Philip know I’ll be in the summer house if he wants me.”

A brisk walk across the lawn brought her to the quaint old building with its white-painted wrought iron and surrounding lavender borders. She leaned back against the door and caught her breath, drinking in the soothing scent of the flowers.

The letter quivered in her hand. Somewhere in the distance a sheep bell clanked, and above her head a buzzard drifted on the breeze. All normal, calming things, and so at odds with the tempest raging in her mind.

Breaking the seal, she ripped the letter open and scanned its contents.

It was disappointingly brief, written by the duke in a confident, tidy hand.

My dear Lady Tinniswood, may I humbly apologize for giving offense at our last meeting. If you would put it down to my recent illness and not to fault of character, I would be most grateful.

Let me assure you that I believe I have found a way to resolve your brother’s argument with me. For his sake I will say no more, but you may expect all talk of a duel between us to cease once he has read my missive. Do not press him about its contents, I pray, and do not think the worse of me for requesting this of you.

The letter was signed simply, Ulvercombe.

An apology and an assurance. Thank God! He was doing what she’d asked him to do. There would be no duel.

She let out a brief sigh of relief. Drifting on a silken thread, a spider moved across her vision, but she barely noticed it for the rush of annoyance that suddenly sprang up in place of relief. How infuriating of Ulvercombe to prevent her questioning Philip! What right did he have to tell her what she might or might not do? He might be a good deal nicer than Simon, but in his own subtle way, he was just as controlling.

She was going to ask Philip about his letter, despite Ulvercombe’s orders. She crumpled her own missive into a ball. But after a moment she smoothed it out again and tucked it in the pocket of her gown. It crackled companionably at her as she marched, stiff-backed, toward the house.

Would the resolution of the conflict between Ulvercombe and Philip mean the duke would begin his pursuit of Ellie in earnest?

Her stomach clenched again, and she pressed a hand against it. She really shouldn’t have made herself eat that extra egg at breakfast.

Once indoors, she headed straight for her brother’s study, then paused with a hand on the doorknob. She could hear raised voices from within—Philip and Sarah.

Sarah was saying, “I’m certain this is good news! He wouldn’t ask you to meet him at Kessington if he still meant to duel with you. I’m so relieved!”

“I thought you would be. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how Friday-faced you’ve been for the last fortnight.”

“I was so worried I’d lose you!”

Clara heard the movement of a chair, and her brother’s voice came closer.

“I have been such an idiot, my love. I hope you can forgive me for putting you through this. But there was never any serious danger. Pistols at a distance are far less dangerous than swords at close quarters.”

“Oh, how can you say such things? That’s hardly comforting.”

“I’m only speaking the truth. Come here. I should have listened to you from the first, my dear. My anger is quick to rise but slow to ebb, as you are continually pointing out. I think maybe this time I’ve learned my lesson. I have no wish to be parted from you or my family. If Ulvercombe has come up with a way we can both save face, I shall be most grateful.”

“Do you think he wants to court Ellie?” Sarah’s voice was muffled, and Clara could picture her with her head pressed against Philip’s shoulder.

“His letter implies that he does. He certainly wants to repair bridges.”

“If he’s swallowed his pride enough to want to negotiate with you, he must value her highly. I’d like to see them as happy as we have been. Despite our occasional disputes.”

Philip laughed. “Disputes only make us stronger, because to end them both sides must make concessions. There should be some compromise in every marriage. Now, my darling, I must go and meet with Ulvercombe. I don’t want him to think me tardy.”

Clara hastened to the end of the corridor where she pretended to be amending a terrible flower arrangement she’d created the previous day.