Free Barbara Metzger by Father Christmas

females, Ware, even if they are good breeders. Told you so. Now I’ll have to go trounce my maid again. Already owes me two years’ salary.”
    Scarlet-faced, Graceanne still had to ask, “But I thought you wanted to see Tony’s children?”
    Aunt Eudora pointed her cane to where the footmen were leading the boys away. “See ’em, don’t I? Got the Warrington look, at least. Now you can go put ’em in the icehouse or whatever, take ’em out when they’re eighteen or so and fit for society.” With that she tapped her way across the carpet and disappeared through an arched doorway.
    Her head still spinning, Graceanne permitted herself to be led down a hall and into a library five times the size of the Misses Macgruders’ bookshop. The duke seated her on a leather armchair near the blazing fire and said, “Tea will be along shortly.”
    “But no chaperone.” It was a statement, not a question. Oh, Papa was right, she never should have come. The duke was resting one arm on the mantel, looking so confident and at ease and attractive that she was tempted to throw one of his priceless Sevres vases at him. And there she’d been worried about the boys!
    Leland laughed and gestured toward the door. “See? It’s open, all very proper. You’re safe, I promise.”
    “But you’ve lied to me before. Twice now, I believe. Once about promising the boys a curricle ride and once about your aunt.”
    “No, she did want to get a look at the twins, I swear. But please, Mrs. Warr—Cousin Graceanne, I did want to speak to you, away from the parsonage.”
    She folded her hands in her lap as primly as a schoolmistress. “Yes, Your Grace?”
    “I…that is, what have…um, are you sure you don’t gamble?”
    “Of course not, Your Grace. My father would never have permitted such behavior. While I was with the army, the wives led very circumspect lives. There were no polite gaming parlors, if that’s what you are thinking. Naturally the officers indulged. If you are afraid I’ll chouse your aunt Eudora out of her pin money, you are far off the mark.”
    “No, no.” But he sounded relieved nevertheless, adding to Graceanne’s confusion. He ran his hand through his hair. “Confound it all, there is no delicate way of putting this.”
    Graceanne was certain now that another slip on the shoulder was in the offing. First he wanted to make sure she wasn’t expensive to keep. She jumped to her feet. “No, there is no polite way to ask a lady if she will—”
    Just then a mighty crash came from somewhere down the hall, followed by minor noises, slamming doors.
    “Oh, dear, I knew we shouldn’t have—”
    The butler entered with the tea tray and two footmen to help serve. Leland merely raised an eyebrow. The butler bowed and said, “I believe Monsieur Henri has just tendered his resignation, Your Grace. Will that be all?”
    Graceanne couldn’t make a scene, not with two footmen standing at attention in case the sugar bowl was emptied. She couldn’t leap up and run away from this makebait philanderer or toss his extravagant, ostentatious repast in his lap. So she sat and drank her tea and ate his pastries and made small talk about their favorite Christmas carols. And she seethed.
    Then came the unmistakable sound of glass shattering. Graceanne’s teacup fell from her hand. Thank goodness it was empty, and the carpet so thick the delicate Wedgwood only bounced. Besides, the footman almost caught it before it hit the floor.
    The butler returned. And bowed. “Not one of the stained glass panels, Your Grace. Will that be all?”

Chapter Seven
    Graceanne was on her feet. “Please, Your Grace, I must leave.”
    “No, no. Milsom will handle everything. He always does.” The duke blocked her way to the door before she could bolt like a nervous filly. “I haven’t yet had a chance to ask you—”
    “Please, it will only embarrass us both.”
    “Then you
do
know what I’m talking about.”
    “Yes, to my eternal