Why Lords Lose Their Hearts (22 page)

“Yes,” Frederick said with a grin. “His voice had just changed and he liked to go around reciting poetry in his new deeper voice. It was like a new toy.”

“Hah,” Cam laughed. “I remember that! It’s why we got him to do it.”

“Do what?” Perdita asked, intrigued despite herself. The idea of Archer at twelve, just coming into his deep voice—which was one of his best features—was so endearing. She’d bet he had floppy blond curls and an angelic face. How could the Kimball twins resist?

“We had just read
Romeo and Juliet
and Fred had the idea to have him recite Romeo’s speech from the balcony scene under their bedchamber window one summer night.”

“You didn’t?” their mother gasped, horrified. “Why didn’t the Kimballs tell us about this? Oh, you boys! I had no idea you were getting up to something like this!”

“Of course we went along because Archer was far too young for them. They were fourteen and as I said before, they had very large—”

“Eyes,” Cam said again. “At any rate, we went there, and had Archer recite the words while Fred and I stood in the moonlight, gazing up at their windows with calf’s eyes, and when they called down and told us to wait for them, we thought we’d won at Ascot.”

“When they finally came out, we were waiting for them in the garden. Archer had tagged along because he thought it was his right as our orator.” Frederick made an annoyed face. “Leave it to him to talk his way into things. He was always doing that. He should have been a barrister.”

“So what happened?” Perdita prodded.

“We thought they’d take one look at us, fall in love, and kiss us senseless.” Cam shook his head at the memory. “Instead they took one look at us, and asked where the one who’d recited the lines was. Archer stepped forward and they both walked up to him and each one kissed him on the cheek.”

Perdita couldn’t help but laugh. It served them right for using his gift for themselves.

“That’s not all,” Frederick said with a grin. “They told us that we should be ashamed of ourselves for taking advantage of our sweet brother. Then they flounced off. Never to speak to us again.”

Cam ran a finger under his neck cloth. “Not quite.”

Frederick’s eyes widened, “What?”

But Perdita had guessed. “You kissed one of them later, didn’t you?”

Looking guilty, Cam nodded. “Not for about a year or so, but yes. I think it was Amy.” His brow furrowed. “Or was it Amanda?”

“You never could tell them apart, could you?” Frederick asked with disgust. “Amy was the one with the mole on her right cheek. Amanda had it on the left.”

“I thought it was the other way round,” Cam said with a frown.

While the two debated the issue, Perdita was brought back to reality as she remembered Archer, Rhys, and their father leaving the room in a cloud of anger. As if sensing her worry, the duchess patted her hand. “Don’t worry, my dear,” she said in a low voice. “I doubt their father will let them shoot each other. He dislikes violence. And besides that, by questioning your presence here, Rhys has questioned his father’s decision, which my Harry will not stand for.”

Perdita hoped she was right. Because if she were the cause of a rift between Archer and his family she’d never forgive herself.

*   *   *

Archer barely managed to rein in his temper as he followed his father and Rhys to the study. This was the site of every dressing-down he’d ever received at his father’s hands. And he was old enough to recognize that one of them was about to endure the same sort of scold. He just hoped it would be Rhys and not himself.

“Shut that door behind you, Archer,” his father said as they stepped inside. “I have no wish for the servants to overhear this.”

After doing as he’d been directed, Archer stepped forward to stand behind one of the chairs facing his father’s enormous mahogany desk. Rhys stood behind the other.

“Father, I fail to see why simply stating the facts about the lady and the rumors that follow her makes me the villain here,” Rhys said before either Archer or his father could speak. “She truly is rumored, along with her sister and friend, to have murdered her husband. A duke of the realm! Even if she didn’t do it, I fail to see how her presence here cannot bring down suspicion upon our own household.”

Archer was ready to jump in, but his father spoke first. “Rhys, I appreciate your concern for the family name, but you forget that you are not yet the Duke of Pemberton. I am. And as long as I am, I will make the decisions about whom to welcome and whom to banish from this house. And despite your misgivings, I trust Archer in this.”

The marquess let out a grunt of frustration. “Papa, he is obviously having an affair with the woman. Of course he trusts her. Men will believe anything when it comes from a beautiful piece of—”

Archer’s arm shot out as he gripped his brother by the neck cloth. He didn’t even realize he was doing so until he saw Rhys’s face turn red with fury. “Let me say this again, my lord,” he said through clenched teeth. “The lady is my guest and my friend. And I will not have you or any man speak of her in such demeaning terms. Do I make myself clear?”

Though he could see that Rhys longed to tell him to take himself off to the nearest lake and jump in, his brother finally nodded. “Crystal,” he said. Then to Archer’s surprise, he continued. “I was wrong to speak of her in such terms. I apologize.”

He felt some tightness within him relax as he loosened his hold on his brother’s cravat and stepped back. One thing he could say about Rhys. He always admitted when he was wrong. And was never slow to apologize for it. He was still angry with him, but the apology went a long way toward soothing his ruffled feathers.

“I believe Archer has stated the case better than I could, Rhys,” the duke said firmly. “I hope I won’t hear you speaking that way about any other lady who is a guest in this house ever again.”

“Yes, Father,” Rhys said with a nod. “I apologize to you, as well.”

“Apologies are very nice,” the duke said, his lips pursed, “but what I think you fail to realize is that I take this family’s good name very seriously. And I understand your concerns for what might be said about us for harboring the duchess. But perhaps I should let your brother explain the matter to you.”

He waved a hand to the chairs, and the brothers sat. Quickly, Archer explained what had happened the day that Gervase had been killed, as well as what was going on with regard to the threats against Perdita.

When he told the story about what had happened at Vauxhall, Rhys swore. “What kind of monster thinks to do that? It’s as if he is searching out her deepest fears and then enacting them upon her. The sort of man who would send a minion to throw pig’s blood on a lady is not far from perpetrating violence against her person.”

At his brother’s capitulation, Archer breathed a sigh of relief. He’d known that as soon as he told him he’d understand why he was so worried about Perdita’s safety. “I agree,” he said with a nod. “Which is why I thought to bring her here.”

“Because of the guards,” Rhys said, grasping the situation immediately. “I think that’s sound reasoning. Also, because you know Lisle Hall so well, you know every possible entrance or vulnerable spot. You can ensure that she remains in the safer parts of the house.”

The hall dated back to the Normans, and like most older estates, it had been built upon, generation after generation, and thus had four wings dating from different eras. The original hall was no longer safe and had been blocked off years ago, lest the curious sons of the family should attempt to go exploring. The family stayed in the most recently constructed east wing, which offered more modern amenities than the others, though when there were a number of guests staying at the hall, they would sometimes use them to house overflow visitors.

“I agree,” Archer said, grateful that his brother had changed his tone. It would have been possible to remain here while they were at daggers drawn, but it would not have been pleasant. For either him or Perdita. Not to mention his parents.

“There now,” the duke said with a smile, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I only needed to hear the details of it, Father,” Rhys said with a shrug. “If the situation had been what I thought, I should have continued to fight you. No matter how unpleasant things might have become.”

“I know, son,” the duke said. “I should have expected nothing less.”

“There is one other thing,” Rhys said, turning his green eyes on his brother. “You still haven’t explained just what is going on between you. Not that it’s any of my business, but she’s a damned attractive woman, and Mama has recently launched a new campaign to have me wed before the year ends.”

“Touch her and you’ll wish you’d never been born,” Archer said with a cheerful smile.

Rhys, like all the Lisle sons, was an attractive man, with his dark gold hair, his chiseled features, and height. Archer had little doubt that Perdita would find him appealing if his brother were to woo her. But there was no way in hell he’d let that happen. Especially not when Perdita’s plans for marriage involved finding someone for whom she felt nothing. Archer didn’t want that for his brother. But he also didn’t want that for Perdita. And he’d do his best to see to it that he was saved the necessity of stopping any sort of plans between them.

He needn’t have worried, however.

“Say no more,” Rhys said with a grin. “Just wanted you to tell me to my face. When’s the wedding?”

Archer felt red creep into his cheeks. “It’s complicated,” he said shortly.

“She’s a lady, son,” his father said with a laugh. “Of course it’s complicated.”

Eighteen

Dinner that evening was a spirited affair. Nothing like the tension-filled occasion tea had been.

Perdita could see from the duke’s and duchess’s demeanor that they were genuinely fond of their sons, though at times exasperated by them. To her relief, the duchess had seated her between Archer and Benedick, though Frederick did his level best to flirt outrageously with her throughout the entire meal.

When the meal was ended, Perdita expected that she and the duchess would retire to the drawing room for tea, but to her surprise, the men followed as well. “Since when we are without guests ‘the ladies’ consists of me alone,” the duchess told her as they sat near the tea tray, “I have never much cared for the practice of the gentlemen separating from the ladies after dinner.”

“Mama is an original, Your Grace,” Archer said from his position propping up the mantel. “As you can see, she makes the most of her title by setting her own rules.”

“If one cannot make one’s own rules when one is a duchess, my dear,” the duchess said with some asperity, “then when, pray, may one?”

“She has a point,” Rhys said to his brother, handing him a glass of port.

“I suddenly wonder,” Perdita said with a slight frown, “if I have been making the most of being a duchess. I think I should have been taking lessons from you, Your Grace.”

“You should take advantage while you can,” Frederick said, in a flash of white teeth. “If you marry this fellow you’ll be doomed to becoming a plain missus. Though you can retain your title, I suppose.”

Perdita felt a flush rise in her cheeks. She dared not look at Archer who was likely sending a look shot through with daggers at his brother.

“I’m not…” she began. “That is to say, we haven’t…” She struggled to find just the right words to announce that she had no intention of marrying their brother and son.

Rescue came from an unlikely source, however. “There, there, my dear,” the duke said, patting her on the hand. “There’s no need to explain things. It’s none of our affair.”

Rhys looked as if he’d like to overrule his father, but said nothing. Archer, when she dared look at him once the conversation had moved on to other topics, gave her a rueful smile. She wasn’t sure if the apology was for his brother, his father, or himself for not having explained the situation to them. Regardless she was glad he’d not taken offense at her demurral. She had hoped that they wouldn’t need to say anything to his family, but that had been naïve she now realized. Family always found a way to winkle information. Especially when it came to the romantic relationships of their relations.

Sometime later, she was brushing out her hair at the dressing table, the maid the duchess had assigned to her having just left, when she heard a scratching noise coming from the direction of the fireplace. She shouldn’t have thought the Lisles the sort to stand for mice in their walls, but supposed that the mice had no way of distinguishing between a prince or a pauper.

When she saw a figure standing in the candlelight behind her, however, she gave a muffled scream as a male hand covered her mouth.

“Easy,” Archer said in a low voice. “It’s me.”

Turning to look, she saw that it was indeed Archer and immediately slapped his arm. “You beast!” she hissed. “Are you mad? I thought you were the note-writer!”

At once he looked contrite. “I’m sorry, love,” he said, pulling her close. “I didn’t think. I only knew that I wished to see you and took the most expedient, and least conspicuous, means to get here.”

She pulled back slightly, grateful for the strength of his body against hers even as she calmed after the fright he gave her. “How did you get in here? I didn’t hear the door.”

He grinned. “That’s because I didn’t use the door. I used that.” He pointed to a secret door, slightly ajar next to the fireplace. The mice, she thought ruefully.

“A secret passageway,” she said. “Like the one at Ormond House.” She shook her head at her own foolishness. “I should have guessed.”

“We had an ancestor with church leanings during the reign of Henry VIII.” Archer shrugged. “He put in the passageways so that visiting priests could find a quick way out should the king’s men arrive unexpectedly.” He pulled her to him again and stroked her hair. “I am sorry, though. I’d forgotten that that woman used the passages at Ormond House to torment Isabella.”

“I should have been alert to it,” Perdita said. “I am in a new house and should have been on the lookout for anything that might be used to begin the game again with me here.”