Alcott Hall: Second Sons Book Three

“This is ridiculous,” Madeline rasped.

“Shush.” Rosalie craned her neck, peeking around the corner of the hall leading to the duke’s office. “We need to time this just right.”

Madeline fought the urge to groan. Rosalie said Burke was the one who liked an intrigue, but here she was hiding in her own house, trying to catch poor Mr. Bray unaware.

Rosalie had stripped out of her heavy outer clothes, but she insisted Madeline keep hers on, so Madeline stood at the duchess’s side wearing her thick fur-trimmed cape over a winter weight pelisse. The boots on her feet were Rosalie’s and were easily two sizes too big. But that was all part of Rosalie’s ridiculous plan.

The door at the end of the hall opened and Rosalie hissed, “Get ready.”

Madeline sighed, knowing there’d be no stopping her. They heard the deep, muffled voices of James and Mr. Bray, and then Mr. Bray was on the move, being led down the hall by the tall footman.

“Now,” Rosalie murmured, giving Madeline’s arm a tug. She swept forward, her arm looped with Madeline’s.

Madeline had no choice but to let herself be dragged into this flimsy charade.

Rosalie called out with a bright smile, feigning surprise, “Oh, good morning, Mr. Bray.”

“Good morning, Your Grace,” he replied with a slight bow. “Lady Madeline.”

“I trust you had a productive meeting with my husband?”

“I did, Your Grace.”

His tone was polite, but Madeline didn’t miss the tense set of his shoulders or the veiled look in his eyes. He was upset. He was masking it well, but Madeline lived a life of quietly watching others and knew well the signs of a hastily crafted mask.

Madeline took in the simple cut of his morning clothes—tan breeches and boots, a burgundy wool coat with a brown waistcoat. The knot of his cravat sat a bit askew. But he was still handsome. He wasn’t a tall man, nearly the same height as Rosalie, but that still made him a few inches taller than Madeline. It seemed everyone towered over her.

He gave her a warm smile, his amber eyes catching the bright light through the open window. “His Grace gave me leave to mention to you that I will be taking baskets ‘round to the families affected by the Carrington fire. He thought perhaps you’d be willing to assist me, Your Grace. I was hoping to get it done tomorrow before the snows set in.”

“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea,” Rosalie replied. “I would be happy to help. Perhaps Madeline could join us as we deliver them. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, dear?” she said, nudging Madeline.

Before Madeline could reply, Mr. Bray cleared his throat. “Actually, His Grace already suggested that Lady Madeline be the one to assist me given your…condition,” he finished with a faint blush. He very pointedly avoided looking at her stomach.

Rosalie stilled, her smile slipping. “Did he now? So, His Grace believes I am incapable of delivering baskets to my own tenants? That is beyond my skill level?”

“I…he didn’t say it quite like that, no,” said Mr. Bray.

“Because I’ll have you know I am perfectly capable—”

“It’s fine,” Madeline soothed, breaking her silence at last. “Rosalie, I am happy to go in your stead. Please, let me go.”

“I am not an invalid,” the duchess huffed. “Honestly, with the way they all carry on, you’d think I was missing limbs or within an inch of death. I’m simply having a baby. Every woman has been where I am now and has managed to deliver baskets just fine.”

“He cares for your comfort,” Madeline replied. “It is a loving gesture. Do not fault him for it.”

Mr. Bray gave her a curious look before saying, “I quite agree. And I would be happy to have your company, Lady Madeline.”

As if she suddenly remembered her plan, Rosalie snapped out of her irritation, turning to Mr. Bray. “Oh, perhaps you can do us a favor now,” she cooed.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Mr. Bray replied, turning his gaze to her.

Rosalie smiled wider. “If you’re walking back into Finchley, I’ll ask you to take Madeline’s arm and escort her to the tailor’s shop.”

He glanced back at her, and Madeline felt sure that he would somehow see through this ruse. “But of course,” he replied. “I am also happy to go in her stead if there is something that must be delivered or retrieved. The wind is quite sharp this morning.”

“Nonsense,” Rosalie replied. “Madeline loves a brisk morning walk, and we’ve bundled her up nice and warm.”

This was a lie. Madeline detested long walks, especially while wearing a pair of shoes that didn’t fit. She’d also already ventured out of doors once this morning and knew she was, in fact, not bundled up nice and warm. But she said nothing.

“If you go now, Madeline, I’m sure luncheon will be ready by the time you return,” said Rosalie. “I’ll set Mrs. Davies to making the baskets. Mr. Bray, I expect you back here tonight for dinner, and we’ll arrange all the plans for delivery.”

Clearly pleased that her plan was set so perfectly in motion, the duchess gave Mr. Bray a nod before leaning in to murmur in Madeline’s ear, “Just be yourself.” Then she turned and left, leaving Madeline alone with the gentleman who the whole house had decided would be her future husband.

Be myself. Right…easy.