Leslie Lafoy (15 page)

“And I don’t,” Drayton summarized.

Haywood grinned at Aubrey. “He’s always been quick. I’d have to say that’s the key reason he was so tolerable as a commanding officer, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Absolutely. That and he isn’t the sort to let rank, military or social, be the standard in determining his associations. Most egalitarian sort of chap.”

And now that they were done lauding his virtues . . . “What is it that you two are going to get out of teaching me the finer points of being a duke? Aside from the pleasure of making me miserable at every opportunity.”

Aubrey laughed. “Oh, you do need us.”

“I’m a fourth son,” Haywood explained. “Aubrey here is a third. I’m stuck with a courtesy ‘Honorable’ for the rest of my life and he’s going to die a lowly viscount. We’re not exactly the sort of men to whom mamas of the peerage scratch and claw for the chance to hitch their daughters.”

“But being the good and trusted friends of a duke would change that, wouldn’t it?” Drayton guessed.

“Ah, quick indeed,” Aubrey granted, settling back into the corner and stretching out his legs.

Haywood sighed in what seemed like contentment. “There is a lovely cachet.”

“But only if I manage to pull off being a duke with some aplomb,” Drayton pointed out. “If I botch this, you’ll go down in smoldering rubble right along with me.”

“Precisely,” Haywood admitted, looking not the least disconcerted by the prospects of failure. “Which is why we’re determined to do whatever needs to be done to ensure that you are the raging success of the next London Season.”

Raging success? Hell, he’d be happy if just one person considered him less than a complete embarrassment.

“Which is going to require a considerable amount of preparatory work over the coming months,” Aubrey contributed. “By all accounts, your estate is in shambles.”

Drayton leaned back and looked between the two of them. “You know about that?”

“Oh, everyone knows about it, Drayton,” Haywood assured him with far too much enthusiasm. “But good manners confine them to whispering about it behind your back instead of saying it directly to your face.”

“How decent of them.”

Aubrey shrugged. “It’s all part and parcel of the game. Your task, and ours to help you in accomplishing it, is to give them something else to talk about.”

“How you’ve managed to turn a crumbling, undisciplined estate into a smoothly functioning one on the rise in a matter of mere weeks will do for starters,” said Haywood. “We’ll move on from there.”

Mere weeks?
“Uh-huh.” God save him from optimists.

“All of which can be largely addressed through building your reputation for hospitality,” Aubrey offered. “My mother will be arriving at Ryland Castle in the next fortnight to undertake that part of the mission. As a facet of that, she’ll also see to preparing your wards for their eventual introduction to society.”

“I hope she has a strong heart,” Drayton muttered.

“Tempered steel,” his friend assured him. “Now, let’s get started, shall we? What do you know about the proper management of servants?”

He considered mentioning that he viewed servants as one of the most unnecessary expenses of his new life, but decided that it would probably open a debate that would,
in the end, prove to be a complete waste of time. Eventually, he’d quietly pare the numbers down to a justifiable, supportable number. In the meanwhile . . . “Not a damn thing. Do enlighten me.”

“
CARRIE
?”

Caroline started and opened her eyes to find Simone staring intently into her face.

“We’re stopping, Carrie.”

It took a moment for the words to penetrate the thickness of her sleep-dulled brain. She sat up straight and looked out the open window of the carriage. She saw trees, a brook, and open fields of ripening grain. “Are we there?” she asked, seeing much the same thing out the other window.

“Not that I can tell,” Simone replied. “There’s no castle around that I can see.”

Caroline scrubbed her hands over her face to chase away the last tendrils of sleep, then took a deep breath and summoned a smile for her sisters. “I’m sorry I fell asleep. I’ve been a dismal traveling companion for you both.”

Simone arched a raven brow. “Didn’t you sleep good last night?”

“No. I managed to doze off from time to time, but never for long and never deeply.”

“Too excited, huh?”

Quite the understatement, she thought. It was a very good thing the girl had no idea just how accurate it really was. “I suppose so,” she allowed as Drayton Mackenzie stepped up to the door.

“Good morning again, ladies,” he said brightly, pulling it open. “We thought now might be a good time to stretch our limbs and prepare for our arrival at Ryland Castle.”

“Good,” Simone declared, bounding out. “I gotta go pee.”

He caught her shoulder and stayed her, saying, “You can wait a moment. There are introductions to be made and instructions to be conveyed first. Then you can scamper off to see to nature’s calling. Without,” he added sternly, “mentioning your intent to everyone, please.”

“Prig.”

He slid her a threatening sideways glance. Fiona giggled and bounded out the door to stand beside her. Caroline shook her head, wished she had their energy, and accepted Drayton’s offered hand.

“Been napping?” he asked quietly.

“I didn’t mean to,” she confessed as he drew her along the road toward the other carriage and Simone and Fiona trailed behind. “But sheer exhaustion overtook me. Am I a fright?”

He looked her up and down and his eyes twinkled as he leaned close to whisper, “You look positively delectable.”

The compliment took her completely by surprise; her mind was hardly paralyzed by it, though. It immediately served up a wickedly wanton, breathtakingly detailed image of the two of them making the rest of the journey to Ryland Castle alone in a carriage. A good and virtuous woman would have silently gasped and blinked the image away as quickly as she could. Caroline arched a brow, admitted to herself that she possessed neither of those qualities, and made mental notes. It was only as the heat flushed her cheeks and her thighs that she brought her vision back to the mundane world of the roadway and the people on it.

Haywood and another man stood beside the second carriage. Both were tall, almost the same height as Drayton.
And both were handsome in a pale and rather parlorish sort of way. But where Haywood was impeccably turned out and arranged, the other . . . Oh, the man needed a realistic tailor and the services of a competent valet. Even then, though . . . She smiled. Neither one of them could hold a candle to Drayton Mackenzie’s sheer physical presence. They were men, yes. Not at all boyish. But Drayton was a
man
.

“Lady Caroline Turnbridge, Lady Simone, Lady Fiona,” Drayton began ever so formally, his hand cupping her elbow as he stopped before the two of them. “May I present Lord William Marston, Viscount Aubrey.”

She dipped her chin in acknowledgment. “A pleasure, your lordship.”

“Which is entirely mine, madam. Entirely mine.” His gaze slipped past her and he nodded to Simone and Fiona, saying, “Ladies, I am honored.”

Simone snorted. “Do all your friends go around pretendin’ to be dandy twits?”

Haywood punched Aubrey in the shoulder. “Oh-ho! Told you!”

Drayton sighed. “Make quick work of the next part, Aubrey. Please.”

“Of course,” the man replied, snapping to attention and smiling brightly. His hazel gaze meeting and holding hers, he began, “We will arrive at Ryland Castle with my coach in the lead and the one bearing you ladies at the rear. The staff should, if they have any sort of proper training at all, be assembled by rank on the drive to greet their new master. Mackenzie will acknowledge their presence with a nod of his head, but make no move to step forward to begin communication until Haywood has
handed you ladies from the carriage and you have joined us on the drive.”

She looked up at Drayton and quietly asked, “Is he always so . . . crisp?”

“The power has gone momentarily to his head.”

“If you two don’t mind?” Aubrey shot back.

“Carry on,”

Drayton said with a tight smile. “We’re all ears in anticipation.”

“Once we’re arranged by our respective social ranks—”

“Which are?” Caroline interrupted.

Aubrey blinked. “Oh, yes. Of course. Pardon the oversight, Lady Caroline,” he offered with a little bow. “Lord Ryland will lead. You and your sisters will follow him according to your ages. I will follow Lady Fiona and Haywood will bring up the rear.”

“As always,” Haywood muttered.

“The butler will introduce himself and the housekeeper,” Aubrey went on, beginning to pace, his hands clasped in the small of his back. “Lord Ryland will present us each in turn to them, again according to our ranks. You are to nod in acknowledgment but make no comments whatsoever. It’s while he’s making the introductions that he’ll lay down our respective responsibilities and, as it were, the chain of command.

“Lady Caroline,” he said, glancing over at her, “as the eldest of his wards, you will be placed in general charge of the house itself and its immediate grounds. The housekeeper and butler will report directly to you on all such matters. Your decisions will be the rule.”

“And if they don’t like my rules?” Caroline posed, not quite comfortable with the proposed arrangement. Interlopers were seldom liked, much less appreciated.

“They will either keep their disagreement to themselves or announce their decision to seek employment elsewhere.”

Oh, dear. “All right,” she agreed, despite her misgivings.

“After that bit of clarification is done, we’ll part company for a time. The housekeeper will see you ladies to your rooms, and—”

“I get to pick mine,” Simone tossed in hotly. “Drayton promised.”

Aubrey cocked a brow and stopped pacing to face Simone squarely. “In public you are to refer to him as ‘Lord Ryland.’ Not by his Christian name. As to the matter of choosing your own room . . . Lady Caroline will so instruct the housekeeper on your behalf. You are not to open your mouth unless spoken to directly. And if that should happen, your replies will be limited to yes or no. Is that clear?”

“Prig.”

His brow disappeared under a shock of brown hair just before he turned slightly, managed a smile for her youngest sister and added, “The same expectations apply to Lady Fiona, of course.”

“Ass.”

Drayton turned to glare over his shoulder. Caroline smiled at Aubrey and intervened before Drayton could, saying, “That’s enough, Simone. Lord Aubrey is only trying to be helpful. I’d rather he be a bit heavy-handed than allow us to make horrible, embarrassing mistakes.”

Aubrey’s mouth went a bit slack, but she ignored his obvious shock, widened her smile, and prodded him back to the task at hand. “What events should follow the housekeeper seeing us to our rooms?”

“Yes,” he said, blinking and clearing his throat. “You will leave Lady Simone and Lady Fiona to the care of their personal maids and accompany the housekeeper on a tour of the household.”

“If I might slip a word in edgewise here?” Drayton drawled.

“Certainly.”

He looked down at her. “Please make notes as to what needs to repaired, improved, that sort of thing, as you tour the place. I’d like to have a report on just how bad things are as soon as possible. Accompanied, of course, by your suggestions for addressing the deficiencies.”

“I think I can manage that.”

“I have every confidence in you. You are a woman of remarkable abilities.”

Why she heard carnal shadows in the genteel compliment, she didn’t know. But it pleased her in a way that had her rational mind reminding her—sternly and, considering the carriage fantasy, a bit tardily—that she’d vowed just that morning to exercise good judgment where he was concerned.

“Ahem.”

She looked back to Aubrey and nodded for him to continue.

“We’ll meet again for dinner. Lady Simone and Lady Fiona will dine in the schoolroom. The rest of us will dress formally and meet in the parlor at eight to have an aperitif and exchange notes on the conditions we’ve found.”

“Anything else?” Drayton asked.

“Not that I can think of at the moment.”

“Good.” He looked over his shoulder. “Simone, you and Fiona may wander off a short distance and
gambol
.”
As the two took off running, he brought his gaze to hers and added, “Lady Caroline, if I might have a word with you privately?”

“Not too privately, of course,” Aubrey instantly instructed as she nodded.

“Propriety and all that, you know,” Haywood chimed in. “Stay where we can clearly see you and can vouch that nothing untoward happened.”

Ah, yes, propriety. Caroline allowed herself to be drawn off toward the bank of the brook, her good judgment rattling on about the value of exercising restraint and meeting the expectations of decent society. Unfortunately, good judgment wasn’t the only voice in her head and the one reminding her of how much pleasure there was to be had in being thoroughly improper . . . Well, the fact that it served up very clear memories as evidence made its arguments the more appealing of the two.

“This is neither the time nor the place I would have preferred to discuss this matter,” Drayton said quietly, drawing her to a halt. “But then, nothing has been under my control so far today and I’ve given up any hope for the optimal.”

He cleared his throat twice as she waited, and when he continued to stare off into the distance, she finally prodded, “What would you like to talk about, Drayton?”

He lifted his chin, swallowed hard, and then blurted, “I think we should marry.”

The hangman comes for me at noon tomorrow.
She couldn’t help herself; she laughed outright. His glare said he didn’t find the situation nearly as comical as she did. Sobering—with no small effort—she shook her head. “You can’t be serious, Drayton. Really, you can’t.”

“I am.”

Yes, apparently he was. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she shot back on an exasperated sigh. “Have you taken complete leave of your senses?”

“Have you forgotten what happened last night?”