Ducal Encounters 01 - At the Duke's Discretion by Wendy Soliman Page A

made Amos late for dinner. He cantered back to the estate and changed quickly into evening clothes.
    “Maynard,” he said to his valet. “I have a job for you?”
    “I already have a job,” Maynard, not one to stand on ceremony, replied indolently.
    “This one will take you to the Crown and Anchor.”
    “Oh well, that’s different.” He brushed the shoulders of the coat he had just helped Amos into. “You should have said.”
    “I believe I just did.”
    “What do you need me to do then?”
    Amos spent the next five minutes explaining. Maynard smirked when Amos ran out of words.
    “Pretty is she, this Miss Brooke?”
    “Don’t be impertinent.”
    Amos words wouldn’t make a blind bit of difference to his valet’s attitude, and he was grateful for it. All of the Sheridan males selected their valets precisely because they didn’t tend towards the obsequious. They were fiercely protective of their masters, Amos had reason to know, especially in the servants’ hall if someone should speak out of turn. They were also loyal to a fault, and in private they tended not only to speak their minds, but also to give sound advice.
    “Right ho, you’ll do,” Maynard said, opening the door for Amos. “If you don’t need me any more tonight, I’ll cut along to the Crown and see what I can find out for you.”
    “Good man.”
    It was just the family at dinner, for which Amos was grateful. His mother and sisters were in high spirits, discussing the various shopping expeditions they had undertaken during the past few days.
    “Nate was a far more willing escort than any of the rest of you have ever been,” Annalise said cheerfully. “He was quite obliging, in fact, and didn’t mind how long we kept him waiting as we dithered over our purchases.”
    “I can’t imagine why,” Zach replied, sending Nate an ironic glance.
    “Glad to be of service,” Nate said, looking smugly pleased with himself.
    “I dare say Martha used the exact same words,” Vince said in an aside to Amos that made him choke on his wine.
    “The rivalry between the villages is getting worse by the day,” Portia remarked. “Miss Higgins in the haberdashers in Compton told us, in the strictest confidence of course, that on no account should we purchase Flemish lace from Mrs. Woodley in Shawford.”
    “Did she give a reason?” Vince asked.
    “Oh yes.” Portia’s round face was invaded by a huge smile. “She pretended to be shocked, and professed to hate being the purveyor of gossip, but she had it on the best authority that the lace in question had been smuggled into the country without the duty being paid.”
    “How shocking,” Zach said, looking as amused as Amos felt by the endless bickering between the two communities.
    “Shame on you, Zach,” Portia said, herself now pretending outrage. “You are the duke. It is your duty to…well, to make sure duty is paid on commodities in the shops hereabouts.”
    “Good heavens.” Zach elevated both brows. “How the devil am I supposed to do that?”
    “We received similar warnings about Miss Higgins when purchasing shawls from Mrs. Woodley,” their mother said, amusement lighting her eyes. “Not about lace, but some other trifling matter.”
    “Buttons,” Annalise supplied. “There is some question, apparently, regarding the quality of Miss Higgins’ stock. It was so amusing, I could hardly keep my countenance.”
    “We must never lose sight of the fact that the blame for the feud lies with this family,” the duchess said. “Both villages seek to enhance their standing by exclusive association with us. Your father maintained it was our duty to bestow our custom equally between them, which the girls and I continue to do.”
    “Your sons are also slaves to duty,” Nate assured her. “We regularly visit the Crown, and the Ploughman in Compton, of course.”
    The duchess fixed her youngest son with a suspicious glance. “Hmm,” she said.
    Zach flashed a wry smile. “Your