“That only proves how you underestimate me.” He cocked up one eyebrow. “I am not merely a duke under the covers, you know.”
“No, indeed. You’re also an excellent shot and a fine lover. Although I haven’t had enough experience in the latter to be sure. Perhaps we could use a bit more practice later, after Mr. Fitzgerald has come and gone?”
His blood heated just at the thought. “You know what they all say, my dear wife. Practice makes perfect.”
Epilogue
December 1809
Vanessa didn’t know if she would survive the Christmas house party at Armitage Hall. According to Sheridan, it had been years since anyone had contemplated such a gathering. For Vanessa, having never hosted one so large or even attended one with forty guests, the sheer size of it was overwhelming.
While most of them were family, she and Sheridan had chosen a few of the dowager duchess’s close friends to cheer her up after her shock at discovering that Mr. Bonham had been systematically picking off the people she loved (and some she didn’t). Vanessa’s tactic must have worked because the dowager duchess had been eager to help, and more than eager to chat with the guests.
The Enceinte Trio, as Vanessa had privately been calling the three pregnant women in the family, had initially vowed to help, too. Then Beatrice’s baby had been born three weeks ago, and Gwyn’s twins had been born last week, and that only left Cass, who, fortunately, wasn’t due until sometime next year. Vanessa’s sister-in-law Cass had a talent for arranging and organizing, so Vanessa had been relying on her quite a bit. Besides which, Cass and Heywood lived right up the road, so she and Vanessa were rapidly becoming friends.
Cass came up to where Vanessa sat at a table in the drawing room, putting together kissing boughs. She wanted lots of them, one for every hall and public room in the manor. “Lady Hornsby wants to be in a bedchamber that adjoins Lord Lisbourne’s. Are you fine with that? Also, our mother-in-law has put your uncle in the room adjoining hers, if that’s all right.” Cass arched an eyebrow. “At the rate we’re going, your party may end up in all the gossip rags.”
“I don’t care. And it doesn’t matter to me who adjoins whom, as long as they don’t ask me to change the sheets when they leave, if you know what I mean.”
A laugh burst out of Cass. “You are quite an outrageous lady, aren’t you?”
“I try. Why do you think Saint Sheridan married me? He needs someone to poke holes in his halo on occasion.” Vanessa paused in her work to examine her map of the house. “Now I have to move other people around. Did your aunt and your cousin come? I was planning to put Lady Hornsby in this darling little suite in the east wing, but with her changing rooms it would be perfect for them, although I would swear it hadn’t been cleaned in years, until yesterday.”
“No, they couldn’t attend.” Cass shook her head. “Kitty is throwing a party of her own in London, and I shudder to think how it will turn out. She’s not . . . adept at these things like you and I.”
“We’re here!” a cheery voice sounded behind her. “Unfashionably early, of course, but we thought we could help.”
Vanessa jumped up and whirled around. “Gwyn! No one told me you were coming. You just had twins—what are you doing traveling? And Beatrice! You’re here!” She threw her arms about them both. “I can’t believe you came!” Then she pulled back to frown at them. “You shouldn’t have come. Are you certain you’re both up to it?”
“Do you really think we would miss your big affair?” Beatrice said. “Not on your life. Besides, our husbands have been driving us mad worrying about our health. I am tired of drinking possets. I can’t wait to have some of the estate perry you brew up so well.”
“I don’t brew it up,” Vanessa said dryly, “although from the way Sheridan extols its virtues, you’d think he squeezed the pears himself.”
“What’s wrong with a good posset?” Cass said. “I like possets myself. We received a posset set for our wedding, and our cook uses it quite a bit.”
“If I want medicine, I’ll take medicine,” Gwyn said, “and if I want an alcoholic beverage or dessert, I’ll drink some wine or eat a syllabub. I do not want my medicine and beverages combined.”
“And while I don’t have Gwyn’s objection to them, I don’t want a posset every day, twice a day, trust me.” Beatrice took a deep breath. “It’s so lovely to be home again. Or as close to home as I’ve been in a while. Have you decided what to do about the dower house? Grey is happy to do whatever you and Sheridan need.”
“I think the dowager duchess is actually going to live there.” Vanessa smiled. “Which is wonderful because that means she’ll be nearby. Of course, my uncle might end up having a say in that. . . .”
“That would be wonderful. I like your uncle.” Gwyn scanned the drawing room. “Where’s Olivia?”
Vanessa laughed. “She’s probably off somewhere trying to turn perry into wine or using ink and sulfuric acid to melt iron. Heaven only knows. That woman loves doing her experiments, and since she and Thorn arrived yesterday, she’s probably already in the midst of one.”
“Well,” Gwyn said confidentially, “we brought her a gift.”
“What sort of gift?” Cass asked.
“You’ll find out when Joshua and I give it to her,” Gwyn said. “What’s this you’re working on? Can we help?”
“I would certainly welcome help from all of you,” Vanessa said. “I’ve been making kissing boughs for all the halls and parlors and the dining room and the breakfast room. I still have about ten left to put together.”
“Good Lord, that’s a great many kissing boughs.” Beatrice took a seat beside Vanessa and picked up a piece of ribbon. “But I do enjoy making them.”
“It sounds like fun.” Gwyn took a seat on the other side of the table next to where Cass had been working earlier. “But I’ve never done one, so you’ll have to show me how. And where are the men, anyway? I wish to see my brothers, the scamps who haven’t written me a single letter since last I saw them.”
“They’re staying out of the way,” Vanessa said, “like the clever men know to do.”
The women all laughed.
“They should be coming in any minute now,” Cass said and joined them at the table. “They’re off shooting partridges. They do love their guns.”
“And their partridges,” Beatrice said. “Or at least Joshua always did. You have no idea how many partridges I have picked shot out of for my brother. That is definitely one advantage to marrying a duke.”
“Fortunately,” Gwyn said, “I do not have to pick shot out of partridges for Joshua. My husband knows better than to ask.”
“I would hate picking shot out of anything,” Vanessa said hoarsely. “It was bad enough just to witness Mr. Bonham being shot with a pistol.”
Gwyn put an arm around her and squeezed. “I completely understand since I witnessed that dreadful fellow Lionel being shot, too.” She grimaced. “Although honestly I would have preferred shooting him myself after what he put me through.”
“Not to mention what he put my brother through,” Beatrice said. “Getting back to Mr. Bonham, how is our mother-in-law faring? At some point, we all thought she might marry the arse.”
“Beatrice!” Cass said, shocked at her use of the word arse.
“What? Don’t tell me you haven’t wanted to use that word in reference to him at least once in the past month.”
“Well . . .” Cass said.
“The dowager duchess has been rather quiet about the whole matter,” Vanessa said, to avoid any more talk about cursing, “but not to any worrisome degree. I think he brought up a great many old memories about her first love and her first terrible marriage. Sorry, Beatrice. I know the man was still Grey’s father.”
“I don’t mind, and I doubt Grey would either. If Mr. Bonham hadn’t poisoned his father, none of the rest of us would probably have ever met.”
“Or been born.” Gwyn frowned. “Oh, let’s not talk about that.”
<
br /> “I do hope that the money he stole will go back to his clients,” Beatrice said. “From what I read in the papers, he wasn’t just embezzling from the Armitage family.”
“Unfortunately, that has proved to be correct,” Vanessa said as she worked. “And in a couple of cases, he actually forged the client’s signature, so if he’d lived, he would have been hanged for his crimes anyway, and that is before his murders are even considered.”
“Joshua told me that those murders,” Gwyn said, “if taken singly, probably couldn’t have been proven sufficiently to see him punished for them, but considered together would have almost certainly resulted in a conviction. How clever of Sheridan to have recognized the ‘accidents’ as murders in the first place. If not for him . . .”
“That leech would still be trying to destroy the family,” Vanessa said. “I hope you all will give credit where credit is due.”
“I’ll be the first to do so,” Beatrice said. “But is Sheridan safe now? I assumed no one would prosecute him for Mr. Bonham’s death, but I wasn’t sure. I tried to find out if they had from Joshua, but he didn’t want to talk about it while I was enceinte, and he’s the worst letter writer in the history of letter writing, especially when it comes to writing his sister.”
“The magistrate deemed it a justifiable homicide,” Vanessa said, “since Sheridan was protecting me from almost certain death.”
She would never forget the look of terror in his eyes that night when he’d first seen her in Mr. Bonham’s clutches. His expression had held such stark determination to save her that she’d known he would do whatever he must to rescue her from harm. Remembering that expression on his face still warmed her heart.
“As for the money,” she went on, “that’s all tied up in legal issues, but if there is a settlement in the civil case against Mr. Bonham’s estate, then we may see some financial relief from it, especially since he has no family to inherit. I’m systematically going through the accounts right now to determine where the worst losses are for use in the civil case.” She tied a piece of wire on the end of a mistletoe branch. “Fortunately, Sheridan is convinced that without Mr. Bonham misleading the family, doctoring the books to cover his perfidy, and stealing our money, we can recoup even without a settlement, and I share his optimism.”
Cass surveyed them all. “Do you think Mr. Bonham was really trying to court the dowager duchess? I mean, if there was no one to inherit his ill-gotten gains, why keep on fighting?”
“You weren’t there, Cass.” Vanessa shuddered, remembering Mr. Bonham’s vile words to the dowager duchess. “I think if he could have killed her right there, he would have. He wanted to destroy her and all of her descendants. And if it had taken sucking the financial marrow out of the Armitage family, he would have done so.”
“Then thank heaven he’s gone,” Gwyn said brightly. “And I do not wish to give him any power beyond the grave by discussing this one minute more. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Vanessa said wholeheartedly. “Now, I must hear about the babies. Did you bring them all? Did you bring any?”
“They’re all with us,” Gwyn said, tying a ribbon into a bow about a sprig of cedar, “mostly because both Beatrice and I are doing our own breastfeeding.”
“There will be no wet nurse for little Maurice,” Beatrice said stoutly.
“Nor for little Isabel and Andrew,” Gwyn said. “Even if it kills me to feed two of them. And it just might.”
“They won’t be any trouble, though,” Beatrice said. “We brought our nursemaids.”
“I appreciate that,” Vanessa said. “And that’s why we opened up and thoroughly cleaned the nursery, just in case.”
Olivia marched into the drawing room at that moment. “Vanessa, do you have any aqua regia?” When the group burst into laughter, she paused. “Oh, everyone is here. How lovely!”
“I told you she’d be doing an experiment,” Vanessa said to the others before turning to Olivia. “And what do you mean to do with aqua regia, if I had some, which I don’t?”
“I mean to dissolve gold. Mama doesn’t believe it’s possible.”
“Do you have gold you can spare to dissolve?”
“No, but Mama has a broken chain I could use.” Olivia sighed. “Although actually, it’s probably not wise to do it without laboratory equipment. You don’t have any flasks and such here, do you?”
When that last was said with a hopeful intonation, Vanessa shook her head, trying to contain her amusement. “The only flasks you’ll find on the estate are the ones the men have, filled with brandy and taken for their shooting expedition.”
“How much would you wager that both the flasks and the game bags will be brought back empty?” Beatrice said, nudging Gwyn.
“My husband will bring back a full game bag, I assure you,” Cass said.
“Well, we all know that Thorn won’t have shot anything,” Olivia said and took a seat at the table on the other side of Vanessa, “and he does love a bit of brandy, so I’ll wager one broken gold chain that my husband is the most likely to bring back an empty flask and an empty game bag.”
“I’ll wager one of the twins that Sheridan brings back a full game bag,” Gwyn said.
They gaped at her.
“I’m joking. Well, mostly. Those two don’t even sleep at the same time. And have you ever tried breastfeeding two babes at once? It’s not easy, I’ll tell you that.”
“Is my wife complaining about breastfeeding again?” Joshua said from the doorway.
“Always,” Gwyn said as her husband walked over to kiss her head. “So should we give Olivia her present now?”
“Wait until Thorn is here.”
As if the words had magically conjured him up, Thorn said from the doorway, “Do I hear my name being taken in vain?”
The room instantly filled with men in greatcoats stamping to get blood back into their cold feet and jockeying for position by the fire. Thank goodness Vanessa hadn’t let the servants roll out the good carpet until after the men finished their shooting.
Grey entered in the midst of everything. “Sheridan, where do you keep your brandy?”
“Here, have some of mine,” Thorn said and handed his flask to Grey.
“I guess I am the proud owner of a broken chain,” Gwyn told Olivia.
“Grey hasn’t drunk from it yet,” Olivia said.
Sure enough, he opened it and tipped it back, then scowled at Thorn. “It’s empty.”
“I know,” Thorn said, smirking at his older brother, who threw the flask at him.
Thorn ducked, and the flask hit Sheridan in the back.
“What the hell?” Sheridan cried and tossed the flask back at Thorn, who ducked again.
The flask hit the table, dislodging a half-completed kissing bough. Just then, the dowager duchess came in and cried, “Boys, boys!! Behave yourselves!”
Her sons stopped and then burst into laughter. Meanwhile, their wives just rolled their eyes. Gwyn gave Joshua a look, and he nodded. So she rose and tapped on the table with the flask until she had everyone’s attention. “My husband and I have something to give Olivia.”
Thorn looked at Olivia, who shrugged.
“It’s not Christmas yet,” Sheridan said.
“Then we’ll call it an early Christmas present,” Gwyn said. “Joshua? Do you want to do the honors?”
Now they could see he was carrying something in his left hand. It looked like a newspaper. “This is a very special copy of The Chronicle of the Arts and Sciences.”
Thorn caught on first and began to grin. But as Joshua came over to give it to her, Olivia looked bewildered. “Why, thank you,” she said and put it in her lap. “I do enjoy that paper.”
“Dearling,” Thorn said, “open it to the science section and read it.”
When she did so, she gasped. “They took it! They took my article!” She jumped up to hug Joshua. “Oh, thank you, thank you!” She ran around the table to hug Gwyn.
“Well?” Sherida
n said, exchanging a fond look with Vanessa. “At least tell us the title.”
She held the paper in front of her and read aloud. “‘The Use of Hydrogen Sulfide and Hydrochloric Acid Forensically to Detect the Presence of Arsenic in a Corpse.’ By the Duchess of Thornstock.” Then, in typical Olivia fashion, she beamed at everyone. “Thank you, everyone, for helping bring me to this moment.”
Everyone clapped and cheered at her success, which brought tears to Vanessa’s eyes. The family had been through so much, and yet they could still care so deeply for each other . . . and each other’s spouses.
Olivia walked over to tug on Thorn’s coat sleeve. “Now tell them your news.”
“Nonsense,” Thorn said, in an uncharacteristic gesture of humility. “It’s your moment.”
“Then I will tell them,” Olivia said. “Thorn has written a play. It’s a very clever, very witty tale of two warring playwrights. And it will be produced under his own name.”
“So,” Vanessa called out, “you’re not publishing under Juncker’s name anymore?” She and Sheridan had scarcely been married a week when her husband had told her about Juncker’s and Thorn’s “arrangement.”
“How did you know—” Thorn scowled at Sheridan. “You told her.”
“Only because I realized that everyone else already knows,” Sheridan said.
“Mother?” Thorn asked.
“Sorry, son, but all it took was me seeing one play to know you wrote it,” she said.
“Grey?” Thorn asked.
Grey laughed. “Did you really think Beatrice and I didn’t notice your behavior that day we discussed ‘Juncker’s’ plays in the carriage?”
“And you already know that I knew,” Gwyn said. “Which means Joshua knows.”
“Good Lord,” Thorn said, shoving his fingers through his hair. “Juncker is going to kill me.”
“You pay him,” Joshua said. “He shouldn’t care.”
“Exactly. I am his main source of income. And he really likes being the author of the Felix plays.”
“I suspect he’ll recover,” Olivia said with a laugh. “Last time I talked to him, he was working on something new. Besides, we’re your family. We’ll keep your secret.”
Undercover Duke Page 28
