A Wolf in Duke's Clothing by Susanna Allen

Author:Susanna Allen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2021-01-26T00:00:00+00:00

Thirteen

After two days of hiding away in the staterooms, Felicity decided she’d had enough of her own company and made her way below. As she reached the foyer, she found it bereft of Mr. Coburn and the halls curiously unpopulated by footmen. Immediately, when Mr. Bates had brought his news, she had been listless and bewildered but in short order had become impatient with herself for indulging in such maidenish behavior. Slipping behind the green baize door, she followed her nose to the kitchens.

She would not be a maiden for much longer. Her choice had been made for her. She was not an heiress; she was not to be independent and a woman of means and of business. She would marry the duke, be a wife and a duchess, thriving under the care of the staff of the house and doing all in her power to improve their lots in life.

She paused before a painting of a horse whose rider was occluded by shadow. There would be kissing and the other carrying-on…and if that carrying-on was anything like the kissing, she would have babies. As many babies as her advanced age allowed. “Or pups,” she said to the horse in the picture. “When in Rome, as they say.” How fiercely he had promised to champion her cause, as he appeared to champion all in his care, with brusque kindness and dry good humor. How fiercely he would defend his child, love his child. He would be stern, no doubt, but as playful as he was with his miscellany of footmen. An image came into her mind of His Grace rolling around on the carpet with squealing children crawling all over him, pretending he was at their mercy. His hair was terribly mussed, and he laughed and looked up at her, so handsome and relaxed and joyous, it took her breath away.

The power of the fantasy stunned her, her heart so full of love and contentment, she felt disloyal to her herd. She ran a finger down the painted muzzle and worried for her mares. Aherne had assured her they were safe, but she feared that her uncle knew everything about her horses; it would not surprise her to discover he was aware of her hiding place for the band. She would insist they be brought here and that she be permitted to cultivate them. Would His Grace allow such a thing? She could see in his relations with his staff that while he was gruff and abrupt, he was not an autocrat. He took in anyone from anywhere and gave them employment under his roof, and his fostering of the talents in the village alone were unheard of—yet she sensed that an uncivilized aspect to this character was very near the surface. His notions of marriage could be as old-fashioned as Lowell Hall itself. They must compromise or…or else she knew not what.

As she approached the kitchen, voices rose in a dull roar. She heard Mary Mossett shout, “It’s time for the cognominatio.

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