Page 76 of A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Heirs

Lady Gryffin gave an almost imperceptible eye-roll. “Early my foot, Gertrude. She’s been threatening death ever since her great-niece, married a commoner. What has that been? Eight, nine years?”

Lady Easton laugh-coughed again.

Before things devolved and became unsalvageable, Victor intervened. “Forgive the interruption. Lady Gryffin, would you care to take a turn around the room with me?”

Gnarled fingers curled around the top of her walking stick, Lady Gryffin hoisted herself up from her seat. Victor hurried forward, taking her free arm. She leaned, whispering, “Salvation at last from these ancient crones.”

“See who that is dancing with my granddaughter, Kitty, and report back,” Lady Easton said, before erupting into another coughing fit.

Several feet from the widows, Victor nodded toward the dancefloor. “There’s Lady Miranda now, dancing with Mr. Grey.”

Lady Gryffin shook her head. “Well, I certainly won’t report that back to the poor dear. She would have an apoplexy on the spot and ruin the entire evening for you. The only reason she comes to these events anymore is in hope Lady Miranda will bring someone up to scratch. At first, at the house party, I thought perhaps Simon posing as Burwood might be a match for her.”

She exhaled a heavy sigh, and although Victor’s steps were slow, he worried they were still too exhausting for the countess. “Are we walking too fast?”

Her laugh, mercifully cough-free, relieved his mind. “No. Although I appreciate your consideration. It’s just...if I were fifty, or even forty years younger, I would have given Charlotte a run for her money over that man. Simon Beckham reminds me of someone from my past.”

“Your husband?”

She shot him a horrified look. “Heavens, no. Someone my family didn’t approve of.”

“Then we have that in common.”

“You speak of your mother.” Understanding in her pale-blue eyes bore through him.

“I don’t want to believe she has anything to do withThe Muckraker, but even my father worries some misguided belief may have led her to do something rash.”

“Like spreading the rumors about Juliana’s portrait to sully her name in an effort to dissuade you from pursuing her?”

“Yes.” Victor glanced over his shoulder. Lydia circled the ballroom several steps behind them, pretending to stop and chat with other guests. He kept his voice low. “You know about our plan to ferret out the culprit?”

“Of course.” She laughed. “Although Simon would never be asked to spy for the Crown with that ridiculous name he came up with. Catch Gus, indeed!”

“Lady Gryffin, I’d love your help setting a trap for Miss Whyte. I still believe she’s the one who saw the sketches.”

Wrapped around his arm, her gloved fingers patted him on the sleeve. Victor was pleased she didn’t use her cane. Objects in women’s hands became weapons. “Please, dear boy, call me Aunt Kitty. Juliana is as dear to me as any niece.” She eyed him warily. “But to your point, I believe you may be right about Miss Whyte. I paid a call on Lady Whyte shortly after our outing to Gunter’s. She was in a tizzy, wringing her hands and moaning about things not going the way she’d planned.”

Victor stopped short. “Did she say Lydia saw the sketches?”

“No. Although I tried my best to get her to confide in me. Lucretia’s protective of her daughter, I will give her that. Simply that she’d hoped you would see the foolishness in courting Juliana and come back to Lydia.”

“She’s several steps behind us now. Let’s move to the vacant corner there and see if she positions herself close enough to overhear.”

Aunt Kitty nodded, and he led her to one of the few empty spots in the ballroom. They huddled together with their backs to the crowd. Victor peeked over his shoulder as discreetly as possible. “She’s coming over now. Play along.”

“Are you certain of this information, Countess? If anyone finds out, it could bring scandal to Burwood. And Lord knows, we don’t need any more trouble.”

“I’m positive, my boy.”

Victor shook his head pretending to clear it from horrifying news. “Miles Grey is Burwood’s illegitimate cousin.”

What Aunt Kitty said next surprised Victor. She was certainly a crafty old lady. “Ah, but is he illegitimate? That is the question. There were rumors that Forbes married Miles’s mother before he left on his last mission.” Aunt Kitty followed suit and shook her head, feigning—or perhaps not feigning—sadness. Forbes Pendrake was her nephew, after all. “But he died a hero at the Battle of Trafalgar. So young. Such a waste.”

“But what could this mean for Burwood? Will Grey challenge his claim with the College of Arms? Is there proof of a marriage in a church register somewhere?”

Aunt Kitty patted his arm. “Those, my dear boy, are very good questions.”

And as Victor turned, he contained his satisfaction at the wide-eyed expression on Lydia’s face.

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