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December 17, 1818
Ivy Castle
Warwickshire County, near Bedworth, England
T
he Duke of Whittington glanced out the window at the end of the portrait gallery as he and his duchess strolled. The veriest hints of snow floated through the air. Big, fluffy snowflakes lazily fell, which wouldn’t amount to much but made for a lovely picture. In the distance, he could barely discern the various members of his family as they gathered at a pond, for ice skating was in the offing this day.
Still, he frowned. Christmastide was nearly upon them, and only one of their grown children had been matched. “I’m worried about Stephen’s chances of finding romance any time soon.”
“Don’t be, my love. All will be well.” His wife of almost nine and thirty years offered a smile before turning her attention back to the window. She squeezed her fingers upon his arm. “I’ve heard back from Lady Ruddick. Her daughter, Lynette, is staying on at Birch House at least through Twelfth Night, and if the lady has her way, longer than that, for she’s nearly destitute.”
“Not the best circumstances.” The duke peered more intently out the window. “Or, conversely, perhaps it will be the girl’s desperation.”
“Oh, Whittington, that’s a horrible way to look at the situation.” She shook her head. “In any event, I’ve offered an invitation for Lady Ruddick and her daughter as well as Lynette’s son to stay at the castle for the duration of the house party. If they accept—and I’m certain they will—then they needn’t worry about things for a little while. And we’ll be sure to include them in all the activities and events, so that will put Lynette in Stephen’s proximity.”
“Ahem, we’ll work with it, and if something better comes along, we’ll push Stephen toward that.” He sighed. “I fear he might be too much the rogue to settle down, regardless if he still harbors feelings toward the young widow.”
“Hush, now. I believe Stephen is bored with the life he leads in London, especially now that Griffin has been matched. They won’t be able to pal around like they used to.” She tsked her tongue and flashed him another smile. Mischief twinkled in her eyes, which was a good indication that she had a plan. “And when a man suffers from ennui, it means he’s on the brink of great change.”
“This is true.” He patted her hand that rested on his arm. “Let us hope that Stephen and Lynette get on. She has a child, so that might muck up the affair.”
“I don’t think so.” His wife shook her head and a tendril of grayish-brown hair escaped from the pins to curl about her neck. If she was a tad more fleshy than when he’d married her all those years ago, it didn’t detract from her looks or how he felt about her. “I know my son. Deep in his heart, he’s aching for a family; he always has. Wasn’t that a bone of contention when he and Lynette split?”
“Truth to tell, I can’t remember, but if that’s true, he’ll need to make friends with the boy before he sets out to charm the mother.” That was another worry lurking at the back of his mind. What if Stephen didn’t get on with children?
“That shouldn’t be an issue. He dotes on his niece.”
“But Lucy is female,” the duke countered.
His wife laughed. “What difference does that make? Children are children.” She laid a palm against his cheek as she held his gaze. “Don’t fret so. Stephen is a smart man. If there is a way he can begin a second chance romance with Lynette, he will. If there isn’t, he’ll find someone else. That’s the way of the world.”
“I suspect you’re wiser than me.” He took his wife’s hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “In the meantime, let us throw them together and hope for the best. We’re running out of time.”
“No, you’re running out of time. Romance doesn’t work on a schedule, Whittington.” Amusement threaded through her voice.
I’ll see about that. “I had great success with Griffin and Nora. I expect no less in this endeavor.”
“You’re a romantic at heart.” She lifted on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Then she took his hand and encouraged him down the long hall of the portrait gallery. “Now, let us make good use of this opportunity to ourselves while our family is occupied with other things.”
“That is an idea I can throw the whole of my support behind.” Was there any wonder why he still adored his wife after so many years of marriage?