Carlyle, Liz by Never Deceive A Duke

Author:Never Deceive A Duke
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-06-04T22:41:01+00:00

“Yes, I am to remove to the dower house as soon as it is renovated,” she said a little breathlessly. “Unless I decide to stay in London. His Grace has kindly given me time in which to ponder my options.”

Gareth wondered if Antonia’s cheery tone seemed false to anyone save himself. He was a little surprised to see her in this part of the house, which Coggins had professed her to abhor. But here she was, clasping her hands demurely before her and playing the welcoming hostess.

“Do pardon my barging in,” she said. “Coggins said Lord Litting had come to call, and I just thought perhaps I should pop in.”

Gareth waved toward a chair. “You are most welcome, Antonia, to join us,” he said. “But I collect this is not precisely a social call.”

“No, by God, it is not,” said Litting, who repeated his complaint to Antonia, who had perched herself on the edge of the chair nearest Gareth’s desk.

“Oh, dear,” said Antonia, her brow furrowing.

“Well, I simply don’t see what the problem is, my lord,” said Kemble in a solicitous voice. “If the Home Office has questions about your uncle’s untimely demise, you should feel free to answer them. We none of us have anything to hide, I hope.”

Litting sneered at Kemble, then looked back and forth between Antonia and Gareth. “We none of us have anything to hide, eh?” he said mockingly. “Well, I want you to put a stop to this, Ventnor, do you hear? Whomever these dogs belong to, you call them off—or you may learn something you’d as soon not know.”

“I know my cousin is dead,” said Gareth quietly. “And I should like to know why.”

Litting looked at him incredulously. “You should like to know?” he echoed. “Oh, Ventnor, that is rich indeed. No one gained more by my uncle’s death than the two of you”—here, he thrust a finger at Antonia—“as sorry as I am to say it.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Antonia stiffly. “I fail to see what I have gained.”

Gareth, who still stood, came from behind his desk and leaned very near Lord Litting. “Actually, Jeremy, you don’t sound sorry in the least to say it,” he answered in a lethally quiet voice. “So let me warn you that if you say it again, or if you impugn that lady’s good name by word or deed or even the slightest insinuation, you will be meeting me over a brace of pistols.”

Litting drew back, still sneering. “I am not at all sure I should trouble myself,” he said. “I am not sure I account you a gentleman, Ventnor.”

Kemble interjected himself between them. “Now, now, sirs,” he said. “And Lord Litting, in case you had not heard, Ventnor is now Warneham. I am sure he would appreciate the courtesy of your using his title. And if I may, Your Grace, I do not think Litting fancies being called Jeremy.”

Litting backed away first, looking just a little shaken. Kemble extended his hand. “Why do you not give me your coat, my lord, then take a seat?” he said calmly.

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