The Duke of Bourne had the usual arrogance of his rank—bred in the bone and trained from the cradle, but he also had excellent manners. When they chanced upon one another in Miss Clemens bookstore, Eleanor invited him to take tea with her so that she could ask after his aunt and his sister. He agreed immediately and without any visible signs of racking his brains to think of an urgent engagement elsewhere.
He was also very happy to talk about his women folk. “Lady Philidia is well, Your Grace. She is staying with friends in the country at the moment. We both miss Clarissa while she is away at school in Yorkshire, but my aunt most of all, perhaps. They are very close.”
“My regards to her when you next speak, Bourne. And how is Lady Clarissa?”
“My sister seems to be enjoying her school, at least as far as I can tell from her letters. I plan to open our estate up there for Christmastide, so we can enjoy the holiday together. I shall tell her you ask after her.”
“Do that, Bourne. And let her know that Frances is still talking about the fortnight they spent together at the Chirburys in the summer.” Eleanor chuckled. “Seven girls, all on the verge of putting away their childhood and beginning to explore stepping into their future role as young ladies! I quite understand my niece’s motivations in suggesting the house party, for they will already have friends when they face their first season, but I imagine keeping their feet on the ground and their high spirits under control was quite a challenge.”
“Clarissa will have friends from school, too,” Bourne agreed. “Not that I wish to think of her on the marriage mart, ma’am. To me, she is still my sweet little sister.”
“And so she always will be,” Eleanor told him. Her eyes twinkled. “Perhaps you should think of marrying, Bourne. A wife would be a huge boon when it comes to your sister’s debut. You would be able to leave her and Lady Philidia to be her guard dogs while you retire to the card room with the rest of the gentlemen.”
Bourne actually paled. “An interesting idea, Your Grace,” he managed to say. Which, interpreted, meant, “Over my dead body, you interfering old biddy.”
Eleanor smiled and offered him another cup of tea.
The Duke of Bourne is the hero of Meara Platt’s “A Duke for Josefina”, a story in Desperate Daughters. On preorder now. Only 99c until publication.