Helen Dickson - Regency Collection 2013 Part 1

‘Do hush a minute!’ She threw up a hand to silence him and hastened into the office. ‘The sooner I get out of these clothes the better. Help me with this greatcoat, will you?’

‘What have you done to your wrist? Let me see.’ Piers pushed her firmly down into her desk chair and began to untie it. ‘Ouch! That looks painful.’ The fine square of white linen, soiled now where it had been on the outside, flapped open as he shook it out, revealing a fine white-work monogram in one corner. ‘D? Where did this come from?’

‘It stands for Dysart, and it belongs to Max Dysart, Earl of Penrith. And yes, he is that Max Dysart, your hero from the Nonesuch Whips.’

‘You’ve met Lord Penrith? Tell me—’

‘I will tell you all about it when I’ve got out of these clothes, had a bath and we’re eating our luncheon. Is everything well here?’

‘Oh, yes, fine, except I can’t work out what’s going wrong with the oats bill either. But what happened—Bree, you cannot leave me in suspense …’

‘Oh, yes, I can,’ she said, making for the door and the blissful prospect of a deep, hot bath. ‘Just watch me.’

‘If you’re going to be mean, then I’ll spoil your bath by telling you that James sent a message round to ask why you haven’t answered his letter. So I thought I’d better read it in case it was something serious.’

‘And is it?’ Bree stopped in the doorway.

‘He’s getting married.’

‘At long last! To whom? And why is that such a matter of urgency for us to know about?’

‘He’s engaged to Lady Sophia Lansdowne, the younger daughter of the Duke of Matchingham.’

Bree whistled soundlessly. ‘That’s a very good match. Brilliant, in fact. She’s supposed to be very beautiful and extremely well dowered.’

‘Yes, and she’s got a fierce grandmother who has heard that James has some disreputable relations and she’s not willing to give her blessing until she’s inspected us for herself. Apparently she’s heard we run a broken-down ale house and are in the horse-coping business or some such.’

‘Well, why doesn’t James put her right?’ Bree demanded. ‘Snobbish old harridan.’

‘Rich , snobbish old harridan, if you please. Apparently she’s likely to leave the bulk of her fortune to Lady Sophia— if she approves of her marriage.’

‘So we have to be taken to be inspected, I collect? I’m half-inclined to dress like a Covent Garden fancy piece and have you borrow an outfit from one of the grooms.’

‘We’d look very out of place.’ Piers grinned. ‘We’re to attend the ball to celebrate the betrothal and, what’s more, we’re invited to the dinner beforehand.’

‘To make certain we don’t eat peas off our knives and spit in the finger bowls, I suppose. Honestly! We visited with James at the town house only six months ago—he must know we have presentable society manners.’ She sighed. ‘We had better go. James is a tactless idiot, but he is our brother. What will it be, trollop and ostler or lady and gentleman?’

‘Lady and gentleman, I think,’ Piers said reluctantly. ‘Less fun, but we’d only give him heart failure otherwise. And look on the bright side, Bree—you’ll need a new gown.’

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