“Of course not,” the duke replied. “The marchioness and I dislike one another. We simply happened to choose the same inn. I recognized her coach and driver when I left at first light this morning for Haversham House. She apparently got a late start, or she would have arrived sooner.” He stared as the coach rolled to a stop, and Miranda alighted from it.
Miranda walked toward Alyssa, but came up short when she saw the Duke of Sussex.
“Your Grace.” She bobbed a quick curtsy. “Are you following me?”
“I arrived first, Lady Miranda,” he pointed out. “I cannot be following you.”
“What are you doing here?”
“A pleasure to see you, too.” Sussex chuckled.
“Then the pleasure is all yours,” she retorted.
The duke fought to keep from smiling at her turn of phrase. Miranda St. Germaine was known for her intelligence and wit as much as for her inability to snag a husband. “I’m surprised you gave up on the season so soon.” He smiled at her. “What are you now? Four and twenty?”
She returned his smile with a too-sweet one of her own. “I’m the same age as you, Your Grace. As well you know.”
“You left London prematurely,” he said. “There were a few likely prospects left. If you’d stayed for the duration, you might have finally managed to walk down the aisle as a bride instead of an attendant.”
“And if you’d invested in a few hounds, you might have managed to please your mother and become a bridegroom.”
Alyssa stepped forward, embracing Miranda, defusing the scene between her two guests before it became more heated. “Miranda, how good of you to come!”
“It was good of you to invite me,” Miranda replied. “Unfortunately, I didn’t realize you already had a visitor.” She glared at the duke.
“His Grace stopped by to present us with wedding gifts,” Alyssa explained. “He brought us a pair of swans, a peacock and peahen for the gardens, and a plant for the conservatory.”
“That was nice of him.” Miranda spoke as if the duke had already left. She sighed. “And I only came bearing letters.”
“Letters?”
Miranda grinned as Alyssa’s eyes lit up. “Lord Weymouth received a packet of letters in yesterday’s military dispatch pouch. They were all addressed to you, Lady Abernathy, from your husband.”
Alyssa couldn’t contain her squeal of delight as Miranda reached into her reticule and brought out a bundle of letters and handed them over.
“Oh, thank you.” Alyssa flung her arms around Miranda’s neck and hugged her.
“You’re welcome, Alyssa.” Miranda smiled down at her friend. “Why don’t you go read them?”
Alyssa hesitated, torn between indulging her greatest need and entertaining her guests. She glanced from the Duke of Sussex to Lady St. Germaine and back again. As Miranda was the Marchioness of St. Germaine and a peeress in her own right and Sussex was a duke, protocol forbade Alyssa from withdrawing from their presence without their permission.
“Go on,” Miranda urged. “I can entertain myself while you read your letters.”
The duke nodded. “If you’ll excuse me, Lady Abernathy, I’ll take my leave of you and your guest as well.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Alyssa breathed, clutching the packet of letters to her chest. She curtsied and withdrew, practically running up the front steps and into the house in her haste to read the letters.
Sussex tipped his hat. “Lady Abernathy.” He waited until Alyssa had disappeared inside the house before turning to Miranda and adding, “That certainly cheered her up. It seemed your letters trumped my gifts, Miranda.”
“Letters from a husband have a way of doing that, Your Grace,” Miranda replied.
“So you’re an authority on husbands, are you?”
“Only on what I see from my vantage point at weddings,” she answered in a low, pained voice.
The duke felt a flush of red creep up his neck. “It was nice of you to bring the letters and to allow her privacy in which to read them, Lady Miranda.”
“Once upon a time, most of my friends and acquaintances thought I was a nice person, Your Grace. But that was before I learned to hide my bitterness and disappointment with a sharp wit and an acid tongue.”