First Draft

"Grimes, be a sport and have a maid send me a tea tray in the drawing-room," the duke said to the rather stunned butler, who lifted his caterpillar brows before bowing. "I'm going back to London as soon as I take my leave... and do not want to go without speaking to the countess."

"Very good, Your Grace. Do you require anything else? Have you broken your fast?"

"I am content with tea, yet I appreciate the gesture."

Grimes looked around and behind before saying, "You know her ladyship rarely rises until much later—"

"'Tis fine. I shall go to the library first and grab a book to keep me occupied." The Duke of Hayward smiled and nodded at the butler.

"I'll order your tea and have a safe trip, Your Grace." Grimes turned on his heel and left Johannes standing in the foyer. Before he could move from his spot, Johannes heard a rustling sound and hushed voices coming from the staircase. He prayed it wasn't her... Johannes couldn't abide by seeing Miss Wakefield so soon after their forbidden interlude. He could barely bring himself to return to the library to fetch a blasted book. His breeches felt tight at the mere thought and he cursed himself under his breath for letting a slight slip of a female affect him so. Bloody woman! Why is she so tempting?

He decided the best course of action was to head to the library. Johannes wasn't ready to take any chances this morning. He turned on his heel to make his getaway.

"Lymington," he heard along with the shuffling of skirts and whispers. "Slow down, child. I'm too old to chase my men nowadays." The cackle that followed caused a wide grin to grace his face. Oh, how he loved Lady Margaret. She must have been something else in her heyday, he mused and turned around, giving the disheveled countess a low bow.

"I would never make you chase me, Countess. If I was thirty years older, I'd be hot on your trail!"

"Cheeky rogue! If I were twenty years younger, I'd ruin you for all womankind!" She grinned up at the tall duke.

He laughed, the rich baritone sound reverberating off the walls. "And I believe it, my lady."

"Lymington, she is outrageous," Mabel piped up, holding the fat ginger cat, Romeo. "This is the only male we chase nowadays." They all chuckled. "I'll meet you two in the drawing-room after I feed this feline beast. I'll order tea and cakes."

"Pardon, but Grimes has ordered the tea, Miss Mabel," Johannes interjected.

"Cakes it is," she ventured and rushed away, holding a squirming Romeo who knew it was time to feast.

Lady Margaret held her arm out to Johannes, who gladly took it and patted the elder's hand, and smiled warmly at her. As they strolled to the drawing-room, Margaret asked, "What are you doing here, lad, at this ungodly hour?"

Looking straight ahead, he answered, "I'm leaving for London straight away and couldn't leave without seeing your pretty face one more time." He looked at her and winked.

Margaret whistled low. "You ol' charmer, you. Why am I just now hearing this? I thought you would stay here in Bath for the wedding. Is there something going on I should know about? Does this have anything to do with what I walked in on last night?"

"Countess, with respect—"

"Don't give me that speech, Johannes Lymington! I've known you since you were in leading strings. I'll not listen to such poppycock spew from those alluring lips." She gave him a sly grin. "I've been around enough men to know, child. You're running away from your problems."

Johannes opened the drawing-room door, held his arm wide for Lady Margaret to enter first, and followed on her heels with a knot in his throat that was sliding down toward his stomach. He could handle most situations with aplomb and grace, but the formidable and eccentric Lady Margaret Vinge was a different tale entirely. She saw through everyone and didn't suffer fools. The lady didn't hold back either, and he feared he was about to get an earful from his favorite aristocrat.

"Pour us a brandy, lad. Do it quickly, before Mean Mabel gets here and admonishes me. She can be a real sour puss sometimes." Margaret seated herself on a midnight blue plush chair while the duke grinned and shook his head.

"As you wish, my lady." As he poured brandy into snifters, he continued. "I will return for the wedding, of course. I just have some things to handle for my estate." As soon as the words left his lips, Johannes realized his mistake.

Lady Margaret cackled and slapped her leg. "Child, pray, do not tell me falsehoods. You can't handle your country estate from London or here. You have a steward who knows where you are and if you are needed... So let us change the subject, shall we? Besides, you are standing there open-mouthed, holding my brandy. Hand it over, lad."

He did her bidding with a thin smile, feeling foolish.

"Margaret Vinge!" Mabel shouted from inside the door. "Brandy before tea? And at this hour?" Mabel tsked and shook her head. "I can't turn my head for a minute without you acting out."

"You should indulge yourself like me more often and loosen up a bit. Lymington, get Miss Prissy Mabel a brandy. We were remiss to leave her out."

"Now, my lady—"

"Mabel, take a seat and graciously accept your brandy from the duke. You wouldn't dare deny such a dreamy duke. 'Tis not to be borne." She grinned at Mabel and winked at Johannes.

Mabel walked to the chair beside the countess and rolled her eyes skyward as Margaret cackled. Once seated, Margaret waited for Johannes to return. "Now then, take a seat, Lymington. The tea will be here soon, and we have a lot to discuss."

His stomach rolled as he handed the amber drink to Mabel. Johannes, for once, thought drinking brandy with Lady Margaret may be a bad idea. He feared he might cast up his accounts on her plush Aubusson rug. A bloody duke losing his stomach contents with two women witnessing such a gruesome affair is more than I can bear.

"If I may be so bold..." Mabel said.

"You may always be bold, my friend," Lady Margaret encouraged.

"Have you asked him about the row?" Mabel raised her brows at the countess and took a gingerly sip of the brandy and wrinkled her nose.

"'Tis irrelevant now, Mabel." Margaret gave her a knowing look and turned her charm on Johannes. "Lymington and I were just discussing us all going to London for the Little Season."

The Duke of Hayward tried to swallow his shock. What in the name of God and all that's holy is the crafty woman up to?