Free Love Letters From a Duke by Elizabeth Boyle

at an approaching carriage, “here come those horrible Hodges! I can spot their carriage anywhere. Oh, what mushrooms they are. The eldest Miss Hodges is completely unsuited for society for all she can converse upon is horses and hunting!”
    “I always found them to be quite nice,” Miss Langley said, her hands fisting to her hips.
    “My dear Miss Langley, this isn’t Bath,” she said as she fluttered a handkerchief in front of her nose. “Why in London the coal dust from their grandfather’s mines just seems to follow them.” She took another glance at the other carriage. “Probably out shopping, for it is all they have to recommend them. What a triumph it will be for Miss Emery when I …oh, I mean to say, when we all contract lofty marriages and those Hodges creatures return home in the summer, spinsters still.” Turning to her mother, she said, “What do you say welurk after them to make sure we don’t patronize the same modistes? I’ve always thought they looked so common.” Matron and daughter cackled with much the same note of venom, and that was enough to signal their driver to depart.
    Miss Browne leaned over the side. “See you at the Setchfield ball! I will be quite easy to find, for I shall be dressed as Pocahontas. Quite savage, Mother thinks, but I’m of the opinion that my feathers and tomahawk will make me stand out.”
    “I know what I’d do with her tomahawk to make her stand out,” Miss Thalia muttered.
    “Sounds perfectly suited for you,” Miss Langley called after her, drowning out her sister’s continued muttering. “We’ll look for you.”
    “But Felicity, we weren’t invited,” Lady Philippa whispered.
    “Not yet,” she shot back, even as she kept the bright smile pasted on her lips until the carriage turned the corner.
    “Whew! That was close,” Miss Thalia said. She glanced over at him. “And that part about the marchioness—Mr. Thatcher, that was brilliant. You had her quite green with envy and she’ll spend the rest of the day trying to determine who you meant.”
    Miss Langley turned around as well and was about to say something when Lady Philippa announced, “Oh, finally. Here comes Stillings with the carriage.”
    The plain-looking coach pulled to a stop and the driver hopped down from his perch and greeted them like long lost friends. “Lawks, look at all of you! Young ladies, if ever I saw them.” He shot a wink over at Miss Langley. “You aren’t up to your usual matchmaking mischief, now are you?”
    If it was possible to believe, the chit blushed. “Mr. Stillings, I don’t consider my efforts mischief.”
    He doffed his hat and grinned. “If you say so, miss.” Heslanted another broad wink at Thatcher. “Best keep a careful eye on these three! Caused me a fair bit of trouble a few years back and nearly lost me my position.”
    “Go on with you,” Aunt Minty told the fellow. “These girls are the finest ladies I’ve ever met. Now give me a hand up, you handsome rogue.” Their aged chaperone reached over and pinched the driver’s backside as she toddled past him.
    “Aunt Minty,” Miss Langley scolded, her cheeks growing even rosier.
    “What?” the old woman shot back, shoving her cane into Thatcher’s chest, so he had no other choice but to take it with one hand, while Mr. Stillings helped the miserable crone, er, chaperone, up into the carriage. Once seated, she grabbed her cane back and finished her retort by saying, “I told you afore, I ain’t dead yet.”
    Miss Langley groaned and followed the lady into the carriage, with Lady Philippa and Miss Thalia following until each of them had found a seat.
    “Well?” Miss Langley said, nodding up toward the empty spot beside Mr. Stillings. “Are you with us or not, Mr. Thatcher?”
     
    There were several important things Thatcher had learned in the last half an hour.
    First of all, his arrival into Town hadn’t gone unnoticed, as his aunt had quite astutely foreseen.
    Secondly, these