The Wyndham Legacy (Legacy 1)

“Since you are the head of the family, it is most appropriate for her to point that out, my lord.”

“I suppose so, but why did she say it?”

Spears stilled his task of straightening the brush, comb, and nail file on top of Marcus’s dressertop for a moment, then said gently, “Why would she not say it, my lord?”

“Oh shut up, Spears. You’re not a bloody vicar. It’s none of your damned affair. It was never any of your damned affair until you and Badger were impertinent to stick in your noses. I should have you transported to Botany Bay.”

“Ah yes, my lord. A nasty place, I’ve heard. Now about the garden, my lord, and what the Duchess said?”

“Oh very well. I said something then—made my presence known—and she turned into stone—nothing new in that. Now, I’m going riding. I hear that bloody effete sod, Trevor, is out marching one of my horses over my acres. Doubtless he’s marking off boundaries to see how rich he will be.”

“But you said he would be rich, my lord. Either he or his progeny.”

“Go to hell, Spears. This is different. This is now, and I won’t have the bugger treating Chase Park as if he’s the earl. I will put a stop to his insolence. I wonder if the peacock uses a sidesaddle.”

“It is an interesting speculation, my lord. Will you be back for luncheon?”

“Yes, if I can find the fellow. I think I’ll bloody his nose, no, that would make him shriek and perhaps cry. That would never do. No, I’ll offer to lead his horse back to the Park for him. Surely he’ll be fatigued by the time I find him. I wouldn’t want the poor little dandy to overtire himself.”

“Most considerate of you, my lord.”

The Duchess was hungry but she didn’t want to go into the dining room and face Aunt Wilhelmina. But poor Mr. Wicks didn’t stand a chance around that formidable lady so she knew she couldn’t leave him alone. She shuddered, remembering how Mr. Wicks had told her in a trembling voice how Aunt Wilhelmina had come to his bedchamber—bedchamber!—and proceeded to get everything out of him that she wanted to know because he was so startled, so taken aback, so incredulous. In short, Aunt Wilhelmina was a force to be reckoned with.

Where was Marcus?

He’d kissed her fingers, then smoothly introduced himself to Ursula, hugged Antonia and Fanny, then taken his leave, not looking at her again, or tossing her another meager word.

She sat in her place at the table. Aunt Gweneth had insisted she take the countess’s chair, that it was only right. She’d merely been residing in that chair until the true countess could occupy it. She’d been charming since the Duchess and Mr. Wicks had arrived, treating the new countess of Chase as if she’d been a bastard again. The Duchess was vastly relieved. The last thing she wanted was Aunt Gweneth’s nose out of joint. The earl’s chair at the other end of the twelve-foot table was empty.

No Marcus. She noticed that Trevor was missing as well. At least Mr. Crittaker was here, speaking kindly to Ursula.

She nodded to Sampson to begin serving the luncheon.

Aunt Wilhelmina said in a carrying voice, “Where is my nephew, the one who’s set himself up as the new earl? He has yet to introduce himself to me.”

“I met him, Mama,” Ursula said as she forked up a bite of turtle soup. “He is very handsome and ever so big and nice. His hair is as black as the Duchess’s and his eyes are a light blue too, just like hers.”

“They are related,” Wilhelmina said. “They should not have married. It is not natural or healthy. Any offspring could be gnomes.”

“Really, ma’am,” the Duchess said easily, “it’s all perfectly legal. The Church doesn’t object, after all.”

“The Church of England,” Aunt Wilhelmina said with a goodly dose of contempt. “What do those old fools know? If a man has a title and money to bribe them, they’ll bend any rule that’s ever been written. That’s what happened, isn’t it?”

“I assure you, ma’am, no bribery was necessary. Actually, his lordship and I were married in France. It is very Catholic there, ma’am. Even the civil requirements are as strict as those of the Church.”

“The French,” Aunt Wilhelmina said and snorted, just like Birdie, the Duchess’s mare. “It is all understandable now. Perhaps I had best ask if your marriage is even valid in England.”

“I assure you, ma’am, that it is. Mr. Wicks will also give you assurances. He would, I daresay, even give you the assurances here, at the luncheon table, rather than in his bedchamber. Now, everyone doesn’t need to hear more of our chatter. I suggest that we eat.”

“You’re a stupid shrew and a bitch.”

“You didn’t . . . no, no, surely no. Excuse me, ma’am?”

“I said all of this has come out of the blue and everything’s gone off without a hitch, for you. What else could I have said?”

Evidently as Aunt Wilhelmina’s indignation increased, her ability to match her cover-ups to her insults lessened.

“He should have come to meet me,” Wilhelmina said. “The new earl shows no respect. It shows his lack of breeding.”