A Hint of Scandal by Rhonda Woodward

garden, near what he assumed was a chicken coop.
    “Greetings, young Thomas. How fare you today?” he called to the boy.
    Tommy smiled and approached the duke shyly. “I am well, thank you. I hope you are feeling better, your grace.”
    The duke looked at the solemn youngster for a moment, thinking how much he looked like his sister.
    “Much better. How is Zeus? Your uncle tells me that you have taken on the responsibility of tending him. I warn you, he can be difficult.”
    “Oh, no, sir! He is a bit particular, but as long as he has had a good gallop in the morning, he is no trouble.”
    “Gallop? Do you mean to say that beast lets you ride him?” the duke questioned in a tone of mild surprise.
    Tommy hesitated and tugged on his brown woolen coat nervously. Suddenly he worried that maybe he should not have taken the liberty of exercising the duke’s horse.
    “I apologize, your grace. I should have asked permission first,” Tommy said, biting his lip.
    “That would have been difficult, as I have been indisposed for a few days,” the duke said with a deep chuckle. “I appreciate your care of Zeus. I am just surprised, and impressed, that he behaves with you. My best groom has ahard time handling a high-spirited blood like Zeus. Treat him as yours,” he finished, leaning his head back on the wooden chair and pulling the blanket closer around him.
    A relieved smile spread across Tommy’s face. “Thank you very much, your grace.”
    Behind Tommy, in the distance, coming across a low hill, the duke noticed a horse and rider approaching.
    Tommy looked over his shoulder to see what the duke was looking at.
    “That is Robert Fortiscue, Bella’s beau,” Tommy informed him.
    The duke straightened his shoulders.
    Bella stepped out of the house bearing a tea tray and also took note of the rider approaching.
    “Tommy, would you please bring us another teacup? We may have another guest.” Bella set the tray on a low stone table before seating herself in the chair next to the duke’s. “You are not feeling at all chilly, are you, your grace?” Bella asked her patient with concern.
    “I am perfectly comfortable. Thank you, Miss Tichley,” he said as firmly as he could. He did not say that his shoulder felt as if someone were taking a pickax to it every minute or so.
    The rider had reached the garden, dismounted, and stepped through the gate, waving a greeting to them.
    The Duke of Westlake, whose only rival in sartorial elegance had been Beau Brummell, immediately noticed the multitude of capes gracing the visitor’s greatcoat. The sheer weight of the garment seemed to engulf the man, who, in the duke’s opinion, obviously had not the height, nor the breadth of shoulder, to carry off such a fashion.
    “I wonder that he doesn’t topple over.” The duke drawled this aside to Tommy, who had seated himself on a stool next to the duke.
    Tommy hid his snigger behind his hand as Bella made the introductions.
    “Forgive me if I don’t get up, Mr. Fortiscue,” the duke said to the newcomer.
    “Not at all! Not at all, your grace.” Mr. Fortiscue bowed deeply. “May I say that it is very good to see your grace up and about, so to speak.”
    “Thank you.” Westlake briefly inclined his head as Mr. Fortiscue seated himself on a bench across from the duke and Bella.
    “I am off to London next week,” Mr. Fortiscue told them, without preamble. “I have business to attend to and I must also see my tailor.” Robert gave the duke a familiar, conspiratorial grin. “We men of fashion must be slaves to our tailors on occasion. Eh, your grace?”
    The duke looked at Mr. Fortiscue for a moment before responding. If he had encountered such a toad-eating parvenu at one of his clubs in London, he would have given him a very direct set-down. As it was, he would be nothing but gracious to anyone Miss Tichley welcomed to her home.
    “Yes. Tailors can be as temperamental as artists,” he finally responded.
    “I have very