What the Groom Wants by Jade Lee Page B

you in your new role.” The elder Pelley finished his words with a smug nod, while the younger one added in a hushed tone.
    “Please understand that my grandfather would push Lady Eleanor on you simply because of her heritage, but I, myself, have had time to speak with the lady. She is elegance personified. Beautiful, poised, extremely intelligent, and with a generous heart. She is a lady of old, who guides with the most tender of touches and inspires the darkest heart to glory.”
    Radley stared. “Good God, you’ve composed poetry for her, haven’t you?”
    The boy’s face heated so much it was a wonder he didn’t incinerate right there. “Lady Eleanor inspires many—”
    “With her beauty and virtue. Yes, yes.”
    Again, the elder bowed his head. “If I may, your grace—”
    “No, you may not,” Radley abruptly snapped. “Let me understand this. The entire ducal line has been decimated, the village wiped out. There is still sickness in the area, and my guess is that the crops have been completely ignored while this plague went through—”
    “Yes, your—”
    “But in all this horror and devastation, your concern isn’t for how the survivors will be fed throughout the winter, how the dead can be grieved or the land managed, but for the lady you have selected to get my heir.”
    The younger man opened his mouth to say something. Probably defend the paragon Lady Eleanor, but his grandfather silenced him with a touch on the arm. Then the man turned rather pitying eyes on Radley and spoke with soothing accents that were completely infuriating.
    “I realize the behaviors of the aristocracy must seem strange to you, but I assure you, the Chase and Pelley solicitors have guided generations of dukes. You can rely on our advice to be sound no matter how strange it might seem. In fact—”
    “So you were the solicitors who advised my great-grandfather to cut off his youngest son. Over a matter of a stolen horse, I believe.”
    “The boy wasn’t disinherited. Otherwise, we would not be here today. And it was the boy’s choice in a wife.”
    Radley all but itched to hear the solicitors’ version of the story. He’d been reared on his mother’s endless tirades about the ridiculous action. By her account, the old duke had been senile and stubborn, a bad combination.
    Unfortunately, this wasn’t the moment to listen to a recounting of an old argument, especially as everyone involved was now dead. What he had to think about right away was his mother. He now understood about the new clothing, new tea set, new… everything. If what these men said was true—and he was beginning to think it might be—then she had probably gone on a spending spree. What if there wasn’t any money behind the title? What if this was an elaborate joke? He knew she was standing in the kitchen hanging onto every word. In her mind, he was probably already wedded and bedded with this Lady Eleanor. She’d always been obsessed with the mores of the upper crust, and she would leap upon the chance to marry him into the aristocracy. It was all too much, and he feared for his mother’s sanity, not to mention his own peace of mind.
    Then over everything came one loud and particular concern. It was a ridiculous thought, especially given the magnitude of what had just happened. But he couldn’t shake the thought, nor could he just ignore it. It was simply this: assuming this wasn’t a bad joke, what would happen to his captaincy? And without the captaincy, how would he convince Wendy to marry him?
    He supposed a dukedom might have some influence, but he wasn’t entirely sure that would be a good thing in her mind. She might now believe him to be above her touch, even though they shared their childhood. Besides, she was the owner of a successful business. Could a duchess still work as a seamstress? He rather guessed she could not.
    And why was he thinking about Wendy when people were dying in some northern village that he’d never even