No Other Duke Will Do (Windham Brides) by Grace Burrowes

Author:Grace Burrowes [Burrowes, Grace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2017-11-06T18:00:00+00:00

“A word with you after breakfast, if you please.” Julian kept his voice down, because other guests were finding places at the breakfast table, Sherbourne among them.

“Of course,” Glenys replied.

In the sunshine slanting through the tall windows, she looked tired, but also relaxed. Perhaps she’d realized that a house party wasn’t quite as complicated as moving an army across Spain, though it was to cost Julian nearly as much.

He held her chair, he greeted his guests, and he nodded cordially to Sherbourne, who was turned out in the first stare of fashion. Julian’s neighbor was clearly pleased to be strutting among a crowd of titles, and if Sherbourne was pleased, somebody else was bound to be suffering soon.

“Tea, Haverford?” Glenys held one of the six matching Meissen teapots that graced the table, a fortune in antique porcelain.

Julian didn’t want any damned tea. “Thank you. May I fetch you some eggs?” He didn’t want to fetch anybody any damned eggs either.

“I’d like some eggs,” Cousin Delphine said from Glenys’s left. Cousin Hugh was nowhere to be seen, but then, the day was fair.

“Your servant, ladies.” Julian rose and bowed.

“Haverford, good day,” Sherbourne said, helping himself to the strawberries at the sideboard. “I’m surprised to see you joining us at the breakfast table.”

“Do you think I subsist without the same sustenance other mortals require?” Julian ought not to have said that. Nobody had overheard, but Sherbourne’s smile went from smug to gloating.

“I’m sure your consequence alone keeps you warm at night, but did you know your walking partner has left the premises without you?”

“I have a walking partner now? How fortunate for me. Will you leave a few strawberries for anybody else? I hadn’t taken you for a glutton.”

A petty victory, but Sherbourne had heaped a bowl nearly to the brim with fresh fruit.

“I’m sure your larders can supply an endless bounty, you being a duke and all, and we wouldn’t want such luscious fruit to go to waste, would we? I refer to Miss Elizabeth Windham, whom I saw walking up Tudor Hill on the arm of some other swain.”

The innuendo—luscious fruit—had Julian slapping eggs onto a plate. “You saw Miss Windham walking out with my brother, whom she has pronounced better company than many at this very table. Would you care for some eggs?”

Julian held the serving spoon, heaped full of eggs, and measured the angle necessary to splatter those eggs all over Sherbourne’s intricate cravat.

Sherbourne’s smile faltered. “She’s walking out with your brother?”

“He’s teaching her the Welsh words for our local flora and fauna. Miss Windham’s mother is Welsh, and she will enjoy surprising her mama with an expanded vocabulary.”

The moment turned lovely. Griffin in the role of teacher was something Sherbourne clearly could not fathom, and that Elizabeth preferred Griffin’s company was a source of further confusion to Julian’s neighbor.

“Miss Windham is a lady,” Julian said. “A true, genuine lady, and Griffin is a gentleman. I do hope all those strawberries won’t make you ill.”

He dumped the spoonful

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