Page 40 of The Truth About Love and Dukes

“Forgive me,” she said, taking a gulp of coffee. “I don’t wish to pry.”

The duchess, thankfully, did not seem to perceive her discomfort. “Not at all. You’ve been a keen observer of my situation through your columnist. It’s understandable you would be curious.”

She did not, however, choose to satisfy that curiosity with any details about the enormous marriage settlement or the lack of a prenuptial agreement, and Irene could not bring herself to probe any more deeply into the other woman’s privacy. When the duchess changed the subject, inquiring what social amusements she and her sister might enjoy, she was relieved, though also keenly aware of being right back where she’d started. And when the duchess excused herself from her company a few minutes later and joined her daughters at the piano, Irene did not follow her. Instead, she stared moodily down into her coffee cup, considering what she’d learned.

Nothing earth-shattering—well, except that the duchess, bless her mother’s heart, viewed Torquil as a romantic, a piece of information so absurd as to be laughable. As for the rest, she still felt she’d given the other woman the right advice.

So, what was she supposed to do now?

“Any luck?”

Irene looked up as her sister sat down beside her on the settee. “I’m afraid not.”

“Well, I suppose you can’t expect instant success in a situation like this. Did you—” Clara broke off, glanced around to be sure none of the other ladies were within earshot. But they were all across the room, gathered around the piano, and Angela’s playing easily overrode their murmured conversation. “Did you reiterate that he might be a fortune-hunter?”

“I did. But she doesn’t seem to care. And it’s so hard to speak plainly about these things face-to-face. It was much easier to communicate with her by letter, when I hadn’t yet met her. Does that make sense?”

Clara nodded, looking comfortingly sympathetic. “Especially since before you came here, you didn’t fully understand the effect her marriage would have upon her family. Whereas now . . .”

“Now, I’m caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. When I first gave the duchess my opinion, I had not thought, it’s true, about the impact her decision would have upon her relations,” she said slowly. “But, even so, it is still her decision.”

“But something troubles you, Irene. I know you too well not to know it.”

“She didn’t tie up the money as I suggested. I wonder why.”

“Perhaps Foscarelli didn’t want her to.”

Irene pursed her lips, giving her sister a rueful look. “That makes me even more worried. If he was a man of good character, why wouldn’t he agree to a prenuptial agreement?”

“Perhaps she didn’t ask him. Whatever the reason, she must be very much in love with him.”

“I should say so, yes. Definitely.” She fell back against the settee with a sigh. “How can I talk his mother out of a course I advised her to take? Such a task forces me to inquire into things that are none of my concern.”

“Could you write to her again as Lady Truelove?”

“And say what? That I’ve revised my opinion and she shouldn’t marry the man after all? What excuse could I offer for this change of mind? And she’s made up her mind now, so I doubt it would matter. Besides, I still believe she is doing what she thinks is best for her own future happiness.” She made a sound of utter exasperation. “This entire situation is impossible. That man,” she added, scowling as the door opened and Torquil entered the drawing room with the other gentlemen, “wants the impossible!”

“Goodness, Irene, he does stir you up, doesn’t he?”

“To say the least. Oh, dear,” she added, straightening in her seat as the object of their conversation started in their direction. “I fear I am about to be called upon for an account of my progress.”

She pasted on a smile as Torquil halted in front of them with a bow. “Miss Deverill, have you seen my library?”

“I have not,” she said, but she had the feeling she was about to be afforded that opportunity, whether she wanted it or not.

“I have many fine books. Would you permit me to show you?”

“Certainly.” Keeping her smile fixed in place, she set aside her cup and saucer and stood up. When he offered his arm, she took it, but neither of them spoke as they strolled side by side past the crowd gathered around the piano and through the wide doorway into the library.

“I am sure you wish for a report on my progress,” she said as he led her across the room. “But as yet, there is little to tell.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to have made any progress in merely one evening,” he replied, bringing them both to a halt in a far corner. “I wanted to talk with you about something else, and I think you can guess to what I refer?”

She had a pretty fair idea. Irene slid her hand from the crook of his arm, turning to face him. “If this is about my work, you must see that one cannot simply stop printing a newspaper whenever one chooses?”

“I do. Which means you shall have to determine which member of your staff might best be trusted with your responsibilities until your return.”

She almost laughed. “Just when I begin to think you might have some qualities I respect and admire, you display such breathtaking arrogance that I realize I must be wrong. It’s amazing.”

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