Free The Wyndham Legacy by Catherine Coulter

outburst, which, I might add, would have been vastly inappropriate, but he hadn’t. It is evidently a missive of grave importance, my lord, and he had inadvertently, in his shock and surprise, given verbal vent to his, er, feelings.”
    â€œWhat the devil does apolaustic mean?”
    â€œIt refers to the giving of enjoyment or pleasure. It is an act of self-indulgence, my lord, something to be avoided unless one is lucky enough to so indulge.”
    â€œYou’re quite right, Sampson, I should have boxed his ears had he done it in my presence.”
    â€œRightfully so, my lord.”
    Marcus, now thoroughly intrigued, didn’t change, but rather strode directly to his estate room, flung open the door and said, “Tell me, Crittaker, with no tumult or stewing, exactly what news made you vent your, er, feelings.”
    Mr. Crittaker said nothing, merely handed Marcus a single sheet of paper.
    Marcus read and read again, sucked in his breath and said, “My God! This is quite beyond anything I could ever have imagined. Do feel free to indulge in another fit of apolaustic behavior, Crittaker.”
    â€œApolaustic, my lord?”
    â€œYou heard me, man. Surely you know the meaning of apolaustic. You are my secretary, after all, and it’s your duty to be up on all meanings of all words I may use.”
    Crittaker was silent as the clock on the mantel, broken now for over seventy-five years. He looked to be in agony.
    â€œIt appears that the Duchess will be coming to us shortly,” Marcus said, looking through the narrow windows that gave onto the winter-barren east lawn. “That is, she will be coming to us for at least a short time. She doesn’t say that she will remain. Though she will remain, if she isn’t completely stupid. I suppose I will see to it that she does remain. She is a woman. I am a man. She will obey me for I am the earl and her cousin and it is her duty to do as I tell her.”
    â€œMr. Spears believes it will be a close call, my lord.”
    Marcus rolled his eyes. It seemed that his butler, his secretary, and his valet had formed a coalition. “The Duchess is proud, I agree, but she isn’t stupid, at least I trust not, in this particular instance.”
    â€œSpears said that pride many times exonerates a greater stupidity than a blank brain.”
    Marcus carefully folded the letter, slipped it into his pocket, and took himself upstairs to change his clothes. Well, Duchess, he thought to himself, at last you will have to come to me. It wasn’t until later that he reread the letter once more and focused on the final sentence. “Mr. Wicks wishes to see you on Thursday following my arrival. You doubtless already know this.”
    What the devil did his uncle’s London solicitor want? Was there more afoot than he knew? But what?
    Â 
    She arrived at Chase Park one week before Christmas. The deadline had been the first of January 1814, but she had decided to have it over and done with. Badger stood beside her on the great front steps holding one small valise for her, and she was in the process of lifting her gloved hand to knock on the evil-looking lion’s head knocker that had quite terrified her as a child, but of course, she’d never let on that it had.
    Before her hand descended the door was opened and she was faced with a beaming Sampson.
    â€œMiss Duchess! Ah, Lady Duchess! What a pleasure, a wonderful event, do come in, yes, do come in. Who is this person?”
    â€œThis is Badger. He is my—valet.”
    â€œAh, well, no matter, doubtless his lordship will sort out everything to your satisfaction. He is awaiting you in his library. Do come with me, Lady Duchess. Your, er, valet—”
    â€œMy name is Erasmus Badger, sir.”
    â€œAh, yes, Mr. Badger, I will take you upstairs myself to introduce you to Mr. Spears, his lordship’s valet. Perhaps the three of us can come together later and discuss, er,