Truly a Wife (Free Fellows League 4)
“Injured?”
“No.”
“Thank goodness,” she breathed. “Why in the world would Shepherdston duel with a dandy like Dunbridge?”
Ned set out cups and saucers, spoons, small plates and napkins, then reached into a basket and brought out a metal container of hot coffee and a bag from Gunter’s, the confectioner’s on Berkeley Square. “I heard it when I stopped by the Cocoa Tree Coffeehouse to purchase the coffee.” He took a cup and saucer from the shelf above the worktable, unscrewed the top from the metal container, and poured Miranda a cup. He set her cup of coffee in front of her, then filled a plate with an assortment of pastries and handed it to her along with her napkin. “It began with a wager recorded in the betting books at White’s. Lord Dunbridge wagered a thousand pounds that he would wed a certain young lady in a ceremony conducted by the Archbishop of Canterbury, in Westminster Abbey, at season’s end. Lord Shepherdston wagered Dunbridge wouldn’t marry the lady at season’s end or at any other time.”
The image of the young woman in the dark cloak and the nightgown furtively hurrying through the rain to the Marquess of Shepherdston’s town house two nights before popped into her brain. “Thank goodness Lord Dunbridge didn’t mention the young lady by name or her reputation would be ruined.” She didn’t know how she knew it, but Miranda was convinced that the girl she’d seen the other night and the girl of the thousand-pound wager were one and the same.
“Oh, but he did.”
A gentleman of breeding did not include the name of a lady of good family in any wager recorded in the betting books at White’s. He might include initials, but never the names. “Tell me the lady in question is a widow or someone’s mistress.”
“Apparently, she’s a young unmarried lady of good family,” Ned told her. “At any road, the dispute came to a head last night at Lady Garrison’s party.” He offered her the Morning Chronicle. “Here, read it for yourself.”
Miranda took it and saw that Ned had already folded it to the third-page “Ton Tidbits” column. She groaned as she read the column. “Oh, good gracious! Lady Garrison is the Duchess of Avon’s sister, and Alyssa and Griff were attending the party last night. I was supposed to go with them.” Lifting her cup, Miranda took a sip of coffee.
“Be glad you didn’t,” Ned said. “Be glad you weren’t there to witness it, because I heard it got rather ugly.”
“I’m very glad I wasn’t there.” Miranda wouldn’t trade what had happened to her the previous evening for all the tea in China. “I regret Lord Shepherdston felt compelled to challenge a fool like Dunbridge.”
“Lord Shepherdston didn’t issue the challenge,” Ned corrected. “Lord Dunbridge did. I heard he slapped Shepherdston across the face with his glove when Shepherdston refused to allow him to dance with the young lady at the heart of the wager.”
“Dunbridge is a fool,” Miranda pronounced, biting into a pastry.
“On that, everyone in town agrees,” Ned confirmed. “And a ruined fool now that he failed to show up for the duel he demanded.”
“Did he send word of his refusal?”
“No one knows. He simply failed to show up at the dueling oak. But I heard it mentioned that he was in attendance at a certain house of pleasure and that he was drinking heavily.”
“No doubt trying to find the courage to face the marquess.”
Ned nodded in agreement as he finished setting the breakfast tray with coffee and pastries for Daniel. “At any rate, rumors and gossip are flying all over town, and I thought His Grace should know.”
“You were right,” Miranda confirmed. “He’s feeling much better today. So well that I suspect he will have need of some clothes.”
He lifted one of the large brown-paper-wrapped packages. “They’re here. I collected two suits of clothing for His Grace at his tailor’s, and the other items you asked me to get.” He produced a basket full of men’s toiletries.
He unwrapped the brown paper so Miranda could inspect the buff breeches, white shirt, waistcoat, coat, and neck linen.
Miranda nodded her approval.
“Shall I take them up to His Grace?”
Miranda shook her head. “I’ll take them. You can follow with the tray.” She looked around the kitchen. “Boots. Did you get His Grace a pair of boots?”
Ned frowned mightily. “I wasn’t able to accomplish that task. I couldn’t get to His Grace’s bootblack this morning without alerting the staff at Sussex House.”
“No matter,” she offered. “His Grace can wear his evening shoes. I know you weren’t hired to be a cook and housekeeper, lady’s maid, valet, or errand boy, but I am deeply grateful to you for assuming these roles.”
Ned grinned at her. “It all becomes a part and parcel of my training, milady. One day, I hope to be elevated to the position of your personal secretary or butler.”
Miranda returned his grin. “And so you shall.” She swallowed her last bite of pastry, wiped her hands on her napkin, and reached for Daniel’s clothes, the newspaper, and the basket of toiletries.
Ned hefted the breakfast tray and followed her up the stairs.
“Leave the tray outside the door,” Miranda instructed when they reached the bedroom. “And tell Rupert to have the coach ready.”