Free Celeste Bradley - [Heiress Brides 03] by Duke Most Wanted Page B

study was silent and, better yet, uncrowded. The bear was the only remaining corpse left to gaze at him with reproving eyes. Graham decided to leave the fourteen-and-a-quarter–stone trophy where it loomed. However, the creature’s mood required lightening, forthwith.
    The addition of the old duke’s stained floppy safari hat to its head, and one of the elderly flintlocks from over the mantel laid across its menacingly raised forelegs, gave it a jaunty air.
    Graham stood back and regarded it critically. “It’s missing a little something.” He shrugged, then saluted his furry companion. “Sorry, Sir Fangsalot, I’m fresh out of wit.” He staggered to the thronelike chair by the fire and collapsed into it. Staring mournfully at the trophy, he hiccupped. “And out of whiskey, as well.”
    He leaned his head back on the padded chair and finally closed out the reproving gaze . . . and slept at last.
    THE NEXT MORNING , Graham made his way to Primrose Street, ready to pin Sophie down on her sudden coolness toward him.
    She wasn’t there.
    Graham didn’t know who was more surprised to learn that Sophie had decamped, him or the promptly awakened Tessa. Since Tessa’s role as chaperone was to keep track of the whereabouts of defenseless maidens, etc., Graham did not approve of the shoddy job she was making of it.
    “She isn’t my daughter, you know,” snarled his cousin, tightening her wrapper and pushing her disheveled hair back from her forehead with the back of her hand. “I’m only here as a favor to her mother.”
    Graham frowned. “You’re only here to make sure that your stepdaughter marries a duke. Now that you’ve accomplished that, more or less, you think you can toss Sophie to the wolves.”
    “Don’t worry, she is in no danger from wolves.” Tessa’s laugh was mocking. “Dogs, now . . . they chase sticks, don’t they?”
    Graham turned away from the only family he had left in the world, realizing that he had nothing to gain there. Evidently she hadn’t yet heard of his advancement or she would have played the encounter with more fawning and flattery. He shuddered at the thought. Let her remain in the dark a little longer.
    A quick question to Tessa’s long-suffering maid, Nan, gave Graham the information he needed. She also added,
sotto voce
, that Lady Tessa’s latest lover had just jilted her, striding out that morning under an avalanche of abuse screamed from an upstairs window. Classic Tessa.
    Upon arrival at Brook House—and really, he ought to have figured that one out by himself and probably would have if he hadn’t been so overwhelmed by his own troubles—he was greeted at the door by Fortescue and shown to the family parlor.
    “I shall tell Miss Blake that you’re here.”
    There was already a young lady waiting there. Graham leaned both hands on the back of the sofa and grinned down at the child playing on the floor. Little Lady Margaret was a skinny brat with big feet and too much hair. In a few years she was going to be a right stunner, and Graham for one was looking forward to seeing her flay the young sods of Society to bits.
    “Hullo, evil mastermind. What’s on the agenda for the day—world domination?”
    Meggie spared him a smile. “Hullo, Gray. Sir Mittens is going to chase string.”
    Graham eyed the scrawny black-and-white kitten in her lap. Every time he saw it he found it more unattractive than before. The black-and-white markings were striking, but its enormous ears, crossed eyes and quirked whip of a tail formed a feline nightmare.
    When the beast had been younger, its tininess had been somewhat appealing, but now the baby charm was lost in lanky, wild-eyed youth. Deirdre had rescuedit from a tree not long ago. Graham rather thought it might have been the tree that needed rescuing. “Is that the final name, then?”
    “No. I’m just trying it out. What do you think?”
    “Er . . . is that it? Sir Mittens?”
    She blinked at him. “Too boring? I thought