Page 90 of His Unwanted Duchess

“Thank you, Mother,” Stephen said, at last. “I am glad you told me. And pass on my thanks to your… to your friend. I should like to meet him one day if you’d care to introduce him.”

Theodosia brightened. “Oh, that would be lovely. Well, I shall leave this business with you—you are always so good at managing these things.”

She crossed the room, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Stephen’s head, and flitted away without another word.

Stephen sat still for a few moments, lost in thought. After a while, he rose tiredly to his feet and moved to the bell pull.

The answer to his summons came almost immediately.

Mouse appeared at the door, looking a little flustered. “Your Grace, I must tell you that a key is missing. The key to the?—”

“Observatory, yes, I know,” Stephen muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The Duchess had it.”

Mouse bit his lip. “I shall retrieve it from her immediately.”

“No, let her keep it. I don’t mind her going up there.”

The butler looked equal parts baffled and appalled. Stephen didn’t bother with an explanation.

“Mouse, the Marquess of Hampton is back in town, and I believe he intends to cause trouble for me and the Duchess.”

Mouse clenched his jaw. “A great pity that he would not be warned, Your Grace.”

“Yes, a great pity, indeed. Still, there is no sense in wishing things were other than what they are. Send word to our eyes and ears. I want to know where the Marquess is staying, where he is going, who he associates with, and why he has returned to London. Of course, he must not know that I am watching him. I do not know how long he has been in London—I daresay he already has quite the head start on me.”

The eyes and ears had begun as ne’er do wells on the street—homeless men and women, abandoned children, and so on. It began as a simple charity—Stephen offering food and occasionally shelter or money. It behooved a duke to be charitable, after all.

It occurred to him soon enough that the recipients of his charity much preferred to work for their money and bread and were eager to do favors. Since then, Stephen had learned that the dispossessed, the homeless, and the insignificant members of society were the ones who saw… well, saweverything. Maids in grand houses, homeless men on the streets, the urchins and vagabonds that darted everywhere—they were often not seen by their ‘betters’, but theysaweverything.

In effect, Stephen had created a little spy network.

No, not alittlespy network. The largest one in the country, most likely, stretching far beyond London. A little generosity went a long way, and he always rewarded good information.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” Mouse began. “But is it possible… Could he have gone to his sister? She, too, is in London.”

Stephen drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. His frustration mounted. He wanted to scream, to break things, to tear up and down the room like an angry child.

Instead, he limited himself to drumming his fingers, a hectic rhythm that increased in power and pace. Abruptly, he stopped.

“Yes,” he said—as if there were any other answer to give. “It’s quite likely that he has gone to his sister, or at least that she is helping him. Have her watched too. But, Mouse? Be careful. Cornelia is far cleverer than the Marquess. And I think perhaps she hates me more than he does.”

Mouse swallowed. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I am afraid that perhaps she hates the Duchess even more.”

Cold, stark fear shot through Stephen’s chest, fluttering down his spine.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Yes, I am afraid of that too.”

CHAPTER 26

“Idon’t think he’s very handsome at all,” Emily said, wrinkling her nose. Her spectacles, almost identical to Beatrice’s, caught the light and winked.

Daphne, whose gaze was glued to a pair of passing gentlemen—both oblivious to the scrutiny—let out a sigh. “Oh, Em, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Stuck between the twins, a girl hooked onto each arm, Beatrice suppressed a smile.

Emily and Daphne, Anna’s younger sisters, were twins, on the brink of their coming out. They were nineteen if Beatrice was not mistaken. Because of their somewhat sheltered upbringing, and the whirlwind of their older sister’s chaotic trip to and from the altar, they were just starting to notice the gentlemen of the world and consider marriage.

At least, Daphne was. She was drawn to anything with a male pulse. If not to get to know them, then to terrorize them with her boldness. Emily was much more guarded, quieter and more reserved than she had been in her youth.

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