Drake barked out a quick laugh. “Something you want, you mean. As good as your wine cellar may be, I did come by with another purpose in mind. I’ve been studying that newspaper clipping you gave me.”
“Oh?” Edward said, his interest immediately piqued. “And?”
“And I’m certain it contains a code, just as you suspected.”
“I knew it.” Edward tapped a fist against the arm of his chair. “Why else would Everett have folded it up and hidden it inside that false heel of his shoe? If the bloody thing hadn’t shaken loose while I was searching his belongings, we’d never have known. Brazen bastard.”
“Brazen is right and not just about Everett. His contacts, whoever they may be, are trading messages in plain sight and using the newspapers to do it. I’m working on breaking the cipher and I will. It’s more sophisticated than I initially expected. If you could find me another example or two, it would speed matters along.”
“We’re looking, now that we know to look. Everett’s guard at the prison mentioned that he’d been complaining about not receiving his morning newspaper the day he was killed. Considered in this new light, his outburst takes on a completely different significance.”
“Clearly,” Drake agreed. “But was he still receiving new messages or was he only hoping to find something he might be able to use as leverage to gain his freedom? I wonder if he knew he’d been slated for death?”
“Maybe so,” Edward mused aloud. “Perhaps that’s why he’d started talking recently, hoping he could make a deal with us once he’d been abandoned by them. Of course, if that were the case, why wouldn’t he have simply offered us an exchange rather than wait?”
“Perhaps he still thought he could work both sides.”
“Unfortunately, it’s all speculation at this point.” Edward spun his glass in another slow circle, then tossed back the last of his wine. “When you break that cipher, let me know.”
Drake smiled, his gaze alight with undisguised anticipation. “You’ll be the first.”
“In the meantime, I shall be busy escorting Claire to one entertainment or another. Easter arrives next week and with it the start of the Season. There’ll be no getting out of the myriad invitations that are pouring in already, especially not with Mama still away.”
“Better you than me. Can’t stand all the hullabaloo that goes on this time of year.”
“I thought you enjoyed the parties.”
“The parties, yes. The frenzied jockeying to snare a husband…now, that I can do without, even if I am left mainly out of the fray. Being fourth in line will do that for a fellow, thank God.”
Edward laughed. “Just think of the trouble you’d be put to if Cade, Jack and I were all killed in some freak accident. Oh, and little Maximillian too. I guess our new nephew bumps you down to number five in the succession.”
“Good, I’m glad of it. You, Cade and Jack are welcome to have as many sons as the three of you like. But for heaven’s sake, Ned, don’t even joke about a thing like all of you dying. In addition to grieving over such a dreadful loss, the idea of being duke gives me the shudders. Frankly, I don’t know how you stand it.”
Edward hid a smile. “Oh, it’s not so very dreadful. Most days at least.”
“Luckily, the odds of such an occurrence aren’t all that good,” Drake continued, obviously running calculations in his head. “Somewhere around two million, seven hundred ninety-three thousand, nine hundred and seventy-six to one, assuming the four of you aren’t all riding in the same coach or sailing on the same ship, to say nothing of contracting the same disease, then the odds increase to…” He paused, a fierce scowl settling over his dark brows before they shot high. “None of you are allowed to be together at the same time ever again!”
“That’s what I love about you,” Edward said, grinning as he got to his feet. “Ever the optimist.”
Drake shot him a look. “You’d be a pessimist too, if you were more serious about math.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m rather indifferent on that score. Now, enough of such maudlin talk. Are you planning to stay for dinner this evening?”
“Oh, I hadn’t considered it. I suppose I could, depending on the menu.”
“Beef medallions and a potato cheese tart, I believe.”
“Well, in that case, I shall.”
“Let me get you some tea, dear,” Wilhelmina Byron said only moments after Claire took a seat next to Mallory on one of the sofas in the family drawing room.
The older woman smiled as she prepared the beverage, her dark eyes kind in her pleasant, slightly doughy, face. Her shape was slightly doughy as well, her hips and bosom ample beneath her dark aubergine crepe gown. When her husband had died several years before, she’d never quite come out of mourning, preferring to remain in sombre colours, a lace widow’s cap tied over her greying brunette hair.
Nonetheless, Claire found her a cheerful companion without a hint of malice. She always had a ready smile and never uttered a critical word. If anything she was perhaps a bit too amiable and trusting, giving Claire and Mallory far more latitude than most chaperones normally would. Not that Claire had any complaints, far from it. Nor Mallory, who had confided to Claire that she revelled in the unexpected freedom, especially here in Town. With Cousin Wilhelmina here, Mallory had commented that she could “get away with murder” if she wanted, so long as Edward didn’t find out.
Claire hid a smile at the recollection, as she accepted the cup Cousin Wilhelmina passed her, the steaming tea prepared with one sugar and extra milk, just the way Claire liked it.
“I certainly hope you had a good time on your outing,” Cousin Wilhelmina said, returning the Meissen teapot to the silver tray. “Did Edward take you to the park?”
“Actually, we went north. And I drove for much of the way. He’s giving me lessons, you see.”
“Carriage-driving lessons!” Mallory exclaimed. “You didn’t say you were having lessons. How diverting. What was it like?”
Accepting a plate with lemon biscuits and a small poppy seed cake from Cousin Wilhelmina, Claire regaled her and Mallory with the highlights. She decided to say nothing of the fact that Edward had agreed to the excursion only because he was fulfilling his promise to get to know her better, rather than because he’d genuinely wanted to spend time with her.
Although he had seemed to enjoy himself. At least she thought he had, though maybe he was simply too polite to let on otherwise. But even if he had truly had fun, it meant nothing. He was still marrying her for duty’s sake, and she was still determined not to let him.
After finishing her tale a couple of minutes later, she sipped her tea and nibbled on one of the biscuits.
“Oh, dear heavens,” Cousin Wilhelmina exclaimed, setting down her own cup and plate before reaching for something inside her pocket. “Pray forgive me, Claire dear, but I quite forgot. I can be such a chucklehead sometimes. This letter came for you while you were out. I promised most faithfully that I would deliver it into your hands and I suppose I have…finally.” She giggled at the last, looking embarrassed and younger than her years.
Claire accepted the missive with a grateful smile. Breaking open the seal, she scanned the contents. “It’s from Mama. And there are notes enclosed from Nan and Ella as well. Everyone is as well as can be expected. The doctor Edward sent proved highly knowledgeable and greatly reassuring. To everyone’s relief, he says Nan should recover full use of her leg.”
She paused to read on, leafing through the pages. “Nan is recovering slowly but is frightfully bored and miserable confined to her bed, just as I knew she would be. They all miss me and send their love. There are more details from home but I shan’t bore you with those. Although Mama says that she wants a full accounting of all the balls and parties she is being forced to miss, since she couldn’t stay to enjoy the Season as planned.”
“And so she should,” Cousin Wilhelmina said. “I would be delighted to provide my own account of goings-on, if you think s
he would appreciate my meager renditions.”
“How kind of you to offer, Mrs Byron. I am sure Mama would be most obliged were you to share your observations about life here in Town with her. My sisters as well, who are always eager for news about Society. They would all be thrilled to receive your letters, which would be of the most excellent kind.”
The older woman’s cheeks pinked with pleasure. “Then I shall do my best to write. And speaking of the Season, His Grace has asked me to consult with both of you about which invitations to accept. The duke has narrowed them down to a manageable number, but is leaving the final selection up to us ladies. What do you think? Shall I go get the stack of cards now, so we may decide?”
Claire shared a look with Mallory, who gave an agreeable nod. “Yes, most definitely. Let us begin.”
Chapter 11
“Five balls in six days. I think I may collapse,” Claire said, as she joined Mallory on the side of the ballroom two weeks later. Finding a pair of empty chairs, they sank into them, Claire’s feet tingling with relief from having danced the last three sets. As she watched, Mallory opened her painted silk and ivory fan and waved it in front of her face, her cheeks rosy from her own dancing.
“Oh, this is nothing,” Mallory remarked. “There have been times when I’ve gone to five different balls in one evening. Though only on rare occasions when several important hostesses all decided to hold their entertainments on the same night. Most inconvenient of them, I’ve always thought.”
Claire felt her eyes widen, relieved they hadn’t encountered a similar situation so far, although it was still very early yet in the Season. Even so, there was never a paucity of invitations, as she had learned that first afternoon when she, Cousin Wilhelmina and Mallory culled through their first batch of cards. A constant flood of new invitations had been arriving ever since, each group requiring careful attention and consideration, lest they slight someone who dare not be slighted.
As for her own initial foray into Society, it had proven alternately enlightening, daunting and exciting, requiring every ounce of her composure during those times when she found all eyes upon her.
She’d known being Edward’s fiancée came with a certain amount of notoriety. Even so, she hadn’t expected the intense level of scrutiny she faced, especially when she met someone for the first time. Almost uniformly, they stared for a split second longer than normal and smiled just a touch too brightly, silently taking her measure while they strove to impress her with their own. Not that there weren’t any number of genuinely warm, pleasant people—there were; it was simply a matter of being able to distinguish one from the other and acquiring the knowledge to do so.
Mallory proved invaluable on that score, since she knew nearly everyone. And Edward as well, when he went to the trouble of commenting. Mostly he seemed to think she knew how to handle herself, letting her deal with various situations on her own.
Not that he wasn’t always readily at hand, since he escorted her to all the evening entertainments. But often after a single dance, he would excuse himself, reappearing at her side only when it was time to return home. She understood that such behaviour was the accepted standard for most Society couples.
Nevertheless, it rankled.
It also served to remind her of her ultimate objective, even if she’d done nothing recently to encourage the plan. She’d been busy trying to find her balance among the Ton and hadn’t been able to take further steps toward securing her freedom.
But plenty of time still remained, she assured herself. If only there wouldn’t be such a very great scandal when he ended their engagement. She shivered at the idea, realizing more than ever the enormity of such an event.
But it was what she wanted.
Wasn’t it?
Or at least what she knew she must do in order to retain some measure of self-respect when all this was done. Despite her deepening acquaintance with Edward, it was plain he was no more in love with her than ever. If he were, everything would be different. If he loved her, this would be the happiest time of her life. But as she’d learned many years ago, wishing for a thing didn’t make it so. And pinning false hopes on faerie stories only led to disillusionment and regret.
She had only to consider her own parents to know that much. For as long as she could remember, she’d watched her mother do everything in her power to win a greater share of her father’s affection. He cared for his wife in his way, but there was an intensity of feeling she craved that he seemed incapable of returning. The simple truth was she loved him and he didn’t love her back. And even though Mama hid it well and never said a word, Claire knew the toll such knowledge had taken on her mother. And took still, day by day.
I refuse to let that be me. I deserve better. And so does Edward. Everyone, she thought, has a right to be loved.
Suppressing a sigh, she forced a smile and returned her attention to her friend.
“I’ll be glad when midnight supper is served,” Mallory said in a quiet confession. “I’m famished in spite of the dinner we ate before we left home. All that dancing, I assume.”
“Very likely,” Claire agreed. “Have you already promised the supper dance to someone?”
Mallory shook her head. “Not yet, no. It’s silly of me, I realize, but I always think of Michael during that particular set, since he was so very clever about making sure he got to claim that dance from me. Now I find myself reluctant to pledge it, as though he might somehow walk through the door, in spite of the fact that I know he’s hundreds of miles away in Spain. Still…”
Reaching out, Claire patted her hand. “It sounds only natural to me. You miss him, that’s all. Just know that he’ll be home soon. Didn’t he just write to say that he’s planning to take leave in a few more weeks?”
Mallory’s aquamarine gaze brightened at the reminder. “Yes. And stay two months entire once he arrives. I am quite beside myself with anticipation.”
“So should you be. Until then, you will have to allow some other gentlemen to share supper with you and not feel guilty about doing so. I am sure Major Hargreaves wouldn’t begrudge you the meal or the company.”
Mallory met her gaze, then smiled. “You’re right. As I said at the outset, I am only being silly. Now whom should I pick?” Her spirits much revived, Mallory began scanning the ballroom for a likely prospect.
Smiling back, Claire followed her lead. “What about Lord Longsworth? He seems a pleasant enough fellow.”
“Oh, he is, and an excellent dancer as well. It is only that he’s rather enthusiastic about the outdoors, and for some reason, whenever we are in each other’s company, he invariably starts telling me the details of his latest hunting expedition. His stories would quite put me off my food, if you know what I mean.”
“I can see that they would. Hmm, so who else?”
Perusing the room together, they considered and discarded another half-dozen prospects. “What about that gentleman?” Claire said, studying an elegantly built man with tawny hair and deep-set grey eyes. “He seems rather interesting.”
Mallory turned her head to study the man in question, her brows sliding downward. “That is Lord Islington and although he may indeed be as interesting as you say, he is also one of London’s most disreputable rakehells. He’s not the sort with whom young ladies generally associate.”
“Why not? What has he done?”
“I don’t know the details, but he has a most unsavoury reputation.”
“If it is so dreadful, then what is he doing here tonight?”
“He has position and money and no one dares cut him. But neither do mamas put their young daughters in his path for fear he might take advantage without doing the honourable thing. Edward warned me against him most strenuously during my first Season and I have heard nothing since to dissuade me from taking his advice. Stay away from that one, Claire. He is a very bad man.”
“Did I hear mention made of a bad man?” asked a male voice in tones that were as rich and smooth as a dram
of aged dark rum. “Then I assume you ladies must be talking about me.”
Claire glanced up, then up some more, pausing at the sight of an extremely handsome, extremely tall gentleman with the warmest brown eyes she’d ever seen. They twinkled, those eyes, his gaze fixed on Mallory with a friendly regard that spoke of long familiarity.
Her supposition proved correct as Mallory laughed and wagged a finger at the man. “Adam! Where did you come from?” she declared, leaping to her feet.
Claire stood as well.
“Purgatory, of course,” he replied with a naughty grin. “Where else would a devil like me take refuge when he’s not in Town?” Catching hold of Mallory’s hand, he bowed low.
Ignoring the usual bounds of decorum, Mallory threw her arms around him for a quick but exuberant hug that Adam—whoever he might be—didn’t seem to mind in the least.
Off to one side, a pair of matrons clicked their tongues, then turned away. Adam and Mallory didn’t appear to take any notice of their disapproval, or else they simply didn’t care.
“Did you just come up from Gresham Park?” Mallory asked. “You ought to have sent word ahead so we could have known to expect you.”
“My plans weren’t fixed and I wasn’t sure when I might arrive. Besides, this way, I was able to surprise you. And we both know how you like surprises.”
“Very true, but still you might have at least given a hint, my lord.” Mallory sent him a mock glare before her expression softened again into a pleased smile. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Yes. It has been far too long.”
“Christmas, if I remember correctly,” Mallory said, “when we were all gathered at Braebourne. What a happy time that was.”
“Yes, very happy indeed.” He inclined his head, but not in time to completely conceal the slight shadow that flickered over his gaze. When he straightened again, however, the expression was gone, leaving Claire to wonder if it had merely been some trick of the candlelight. Apparently so, since he looked in the best of spirits.
At The Duke's Pleasure Page 13
