Last Duke Standing by Julia London

Author:Julia London
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HQN Books
Published: 2021-12-09T16:36:16+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

WILLIAM’S LATEST TELEGRAPH to Robuchard was met with resistance on the part of Ewan MacDuff. William didn’t know how or when they’d crossed the boundary where his valet felt free to read his messages, but here they were.

He’d dashed off his report yesterday, making it short and very much to the point.

You must remove your matchmaker at once! She has shown herself to be incapable to the task! You will end with a reprobate as a prince consort if you do not heed my advice!

Ewan held the paper in his meaty hand, his lips silently sounding out the words as he read by squinting at the page.

“What is it?” William demanded.

“The telegraph, milord. They’ll no’ allow the markings.”

“The markings?”

He pointed a thick finger at the exclamation points. “The dispatch, he’ll no’ allow it.”

William folded his arms. “Those markings, as you call them, are necessary to convey the depth of my feeling on this very important topic. Tell that to dispatch.”

“Aye, milord.” He trundled off, and he and William both knew he would not have a word with dispatch and would remove the marks. William would have to hope that Robuchard could read the depth of his feeling in his words alone.

He was on his way to Prescott Hall today. He had arranged to share the Duke of Grafton’s box at the opera and was feeling rather proud of himself for having thought of it. The entrance for boxholders was different than the entrance for patrons on the floor, so the princess would not find herself in the midst of an unruly crowd of gawpers. She’d be above them, so to speak.

As William suspected he would be, Grafton was more than delighted to invite the princess to the opera. He had made a bold case for his son, the Earl of Euston, to attend as well, but William had argued against it. They had finally agreed that Lord and Lady Grafton would host William and the two royal princesses, and William could hardly wait to tell Justine what he’d done.

He arrived at Prescott Hall shortly after luncheon to deliver the invitation.

Lord Bardaline greeted him in the receiving salon. “Ah,” he said as if he was expecting someone else, and pulled a face that suggested he was disappointed by finding William standing there. “Her Royal Highness is at her exercise.” He led William down the long hallway—mercifully free of flowers—and onto the back terrace. Once there, he pointed to one of the lower terraces.

Justine, dressed in her fencing attire, was advancing on a man who was twice her size. His footwork was familiar in its sluggishness—the opponent kept stumbling as he tried to parry. “Who is her opponent?”

“Lord Mawbley.”

“Again?”

Bardaline shrugged. “He seems to enjoy the sport.”

“I’m no’ sure that’s what he enjoys,” William muttered. Justine forced Mawbley back on his heels again. “She’s very good, aye?”

“Mmm,” Bardaline said as if unconvinced. When William gave him a look, he shrugged. “I don’t consider it appropriate activity for a future queen. Particularly if one is expected to dress in that manner.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.