Least Likely to Marry a Duke (Liberated Ladies)

‘So it is! But we were not expecting him—were you?’

‘No. I met him at my grandfather’s funeral and told him how delighted I would be if he called—not expecting him to do so without warning.’

A cold hand slipped into his. Will glanced down. Verity’s face, completely exposed under the flat brim of her hat, was set and pale. For the first time he saw vulnerability there. He squeezed her hand and released it. ‘We must not do anything to suggest the slightest familiarity or impropriety,’ he warned, low-voiced.

‘No, of course not.’ She snatched away her hand and composed her features into a look of vapid blandness. ‘I will take my cue from you, Your Grace. I am sure your perfect grasp of every possible social situation will carry us through this with aplomb.’

There was a tremor of anger in her meek voice.

Now what have I done to anger her? he thought.

Chapter Eleven

Foolish of me to expect some support. Even more foolish to betray my nerves, Verity thought savagely as she gripped her chilly fingers together until the nails dug into her palms. But what was Bishop Alderton doing here?

Her father had been a gentle, scholarly bishop, unwilling to judge harshly, always seeking to offer forgiveness, compromise and accord. His successor was far more energetic in the discharge of his office. Bishop Alderton’s sermons were more emphatic, his tolerance of sins and errors far less elastic. The Church Militant was his ideal and he saw it as his duty to carry the light of the Church of England into every sin-infested corner of his diocese, seeking to correct even the smallest error.

The boat bumped against the landing stage before she could summon any constructive thought. Will was on his feet and on to land the moment the lines had been secured.

‘Miss Wingate, may I assist you?’

‘Thank you, Your Grace.’

Smile, gather up your creased skirts, step out as though alighting from a carriage at a ball.

‘Why, my lord.’

Look surprised, curtsy.

/> ‘What an unexpected pleasure. Mr Carne, Mr Wellings, Mr Trafford.’

One chaplain and two curates bowed.

‘My dear Miss Wingate.’ Bishop Alderton advanced on her, his hands held out. ‘We have prayed throughout the night for your safe return and our petitions have been answered. What a dreadful ordeal you have undergone!’

‘Thank you, my lord. But it was hardly an ordeal. It was the result of a childish prank and, as I was ably protected and looked after by the Duke, I was quite safe and comfortable throughout. Shall we go up to the house? I am sure Papa will want to be reassured as soon as possible.’

‘This way, my lord.’ Will gestured towards the path and offered his arm to Verity. ‘Have you all been here throughout the night? I trust my staff made you comfortable.’

‘We called upon my brother Wingate yesterday afternoon. My carriage was forced to make a detour as the bridge at Little Felling was damaged by a timber wagon.’ The Bishop was clearly able to discourse fluently while walking uphill. Behind him the curates were breathing heavily. ‘When I was told he was here I decided to call upon you both. Only imagine my horror to discover that you and Miss Wingate had mysteriously vanished! Naturally, I felt it our duty to stay and offer what comfort and succour we could. In fact, one might think that the accident at the bridge was divine intervention to send us to Wingate’s side.’

‘So kind,’ Verity murmured.

‘Everyone in your household, under the leadership of my dear brother Wingate, were quite remarkably calm, I must say. When one considers the hideous possibilities—assault, kidnap, the perils of the wilderness—one can only wonder at your dear father’s strength of mind, my dear.’

‘It is remarkable, my lord,’ Verity agreed. She kept only the tips of her fingers on Will’s arm and walked with a good foot of clear space between them.

‘But, of course, the fact that you were with His Grace must have calmed his mind considerably.’

There was the faintest of sniggers from Mr Trafford, one of the curates. Will turned to look at him. ‘Did you speak, sir?’ he enquired, his voice icy.

‘No, Your Grace. I merely cleared my throat. Ah, see, Miss Wingate, there is your papa.’

He had come out on to the terrace, supported by Mr Hoskins. The butler and two footmen waited a few steps back.

Verity let go of Will’s arm and ran across the lawn, up the terrace steps and into his embrace. ‘Papa, I am quite well, nothing at all untoward occurred and there is no need to worry about anything except keeping this foolish trick of the children’s a secret.’

He hugged her to him, then held her at arm’s length so she could read his lips. ‘Welcome home, dear.’ Then he released her and began to make signs.