Barely a Bride (Free Fellows League 1)
“I like her,” Sussex answered honestly. “Or rather, I like everything I know about her. Her mother and my mother inhabit the same circles of friends. They thought it a good match. Now that I am five and twenty, my mother has been hounding me incessantly to marry. Lady Alyssa seemed the perfect choice. I thought she would make a fine duchess.” He gave a short, self- deprecating laugh. “She apparently disagreed.”
“Are you in love with her?” Jarrod asked.
“Of course not,” Sussex retorted. “I don’t even know her. The first words I’ve exchanged with her since we were children were spoken at her wedding breakfast. I think it’s apparent that she prefers Abernathy.”
“Yet you promised to continue your pursuit…”
Sussex blushed. “Yes, well, I don’t like to lose, and if you check the betting books over there”—he nodded toward White’s betting books—“you’ll find there are several significant wagers betting that I would win Lady Alyssa’s hand. Several of them placed by business rivals and, well—” He cleared his throat. “I can afford to lose the sums wagered, but I would much prefer that they did.”
Jarrod laughed. The young duke sounded very much like he should be one of them. “You weren’t serious?”
“I would have courted and married her,” Sussex admitted, “if her father had accepted my suit, and I would have made her a good husband, but… He glanced down at the toes of his highly polished boots. “In truth, I’m in no hurry to marry or procure an heir. I simply wanted an end to my mother’s haranguing.”
Colin poured the duke a dram of whisky and slid it across the table to him. “What do you know about gardening?”
“Nothing.”
Jarrod snorted. “You possess the finest gardens in England, man, yet you know nothing about gardening?”
“The gardens have been in place for nearly two hundred years,” Sussex said. “And professional gardeners have always come with the garden. I simply enjoy the results. Why?”
“Your first challenge is to become a master gardener and pay a call on Lady Abernathy.” Jarrod’s smile was wicked. “She’s missing her husband and needs a bit of cheering up.”
Sussex groaned. “You do realize she threatened to shoot me at her wedding breakfast?”
“Aye,” Colin answered. “We heard.”
“So, why me?”
“Two reasons,” Jarrod said. “The first is to prove how trustworthy you are. You pay court to Lady Abernathy, but you don’t touch.” He shot the handsome duke a scathing look. “Not so much as a stolen kiss as long as she is Lord Abernathy’s wife.”
“Contrary to my hotheaded words at the wedding breakfast, I do not make a habit of seducing other men’s wives—especially when they appear to be in love with their husbands.”
“That’s good, Your Grace,” Colin said. “But we have to make certain. And this is the best way to kill two birds with one stone.”
Sussex stared at Colin as if he’d lost his mind. “Surely, you can’t believe that I’m the person best suited to lift Lady Alyssa’s spirits?”
“Why not?” Jarrod demanded. “Who better to lift a lady’s spirits than an old suitor?”
Sussex frowned. “Do you mean to challenge her fidelity as well as my own?”
Jarrod took a deep breath. “Let’s just say we’re giving Lady Abernathy a reason to get up in the morning.”
“If only for the pleasure of turning you away from her front door. Just be careful that you don’t give her cause to shoot you, Your G
race,” Colin added. “Or us, either.”
* * *
Griff broke the seal on Alyssa’s latest letter. They had been on the move for almost three weeks, and it had taken the post longer than usual to catch up with them. His regiment was joining General Crawford in the push across Portugal, into Spain toward the siege of Ciudad Rodrigo.
Griff unfolded the parchment and read the brief note, then carefully refolded it and held it beneath his nose. The faint scent of roses and lavender filled his nostrils, bringing with it memories of the three nights he had held her in his arms. Griff gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the noise of the camp, the jangle of bits and bridles, the rattle of swords and sabers, and the incessant droning of a black fly trapped inside the tent. He gently tucked the letter inside the ribbon tied around the packet of all the other letters she’d sent him.
Griff hadn’t realized he’d made a noise until Eastman, who sat on a camp stool polishing the brass buttons of one of his coats, spoke. “News from home, my lord? From Lady Abernathy?”
Griff swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “Good news? More descriptions of Lady Abernathy’s plans for the improvement of the manor? Does she still intend to grow hops and flax? Have the new dairy cows arrived? Did she send any more skin lotion?”
Griffin didn’t answer, and Eastman turned to look at him. “Sir? Is everything all right back home?”