Page 72 of A Duke to Steal Her
“Difficult evening?” Ambrose continued with false sympathy. “Business troubles can be so taxing.”
“You seem remarkably well-informed about my business troubles.” Peirce’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the venom in it was unmistakable.
“London society is remarkably small. Word travels.” Ambrose’s smile widened. “Though I must say, this Conde de Cervera fellow has certainly made quite an impression. Have you had the pleasure of meeting him?”
Peirce’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Funny thing about the good Conde. No one seems to know much about his background. His credentials are vague. His connections are convenient.”
“How unfortunate for those seeking to pry into a gentleman’s private affairs.” Ambrose’s tone remained conversational, but steel crept into his voice. “Though I suppose when one’s own ventures are struggling, it’s natural to look for alternative explanations.”
“This isn’t over, Nightfell.”
Ambrose stepped aside with exaggerated courtesy. “Do give my regards to your charming fiancée. I’m sure she’s mostunderstandingabout business setbacks.”
Peirce’s face went white with rage. For a moment, Ambrose thought he might actually throw a punch in the middle ofWhite’s. Instead, he pushed past with enough force to jostle Ambrose’s shoulder and stalked from the club.
“Well,” William said, appearing at Ambrose’s elbow, “that was subtle.”
“Wasn’t it?” Ambrose straightened his cufflinks with satisfaction.
“Ambrose.” William’s voice carried an unusual note of seriousness. “I know Peirce is a bastard of the highest order, but he’s also a clever bastard. If he’s starting to suspect something…”
“Let him suspect.” Ambrose turned back toward their table. “What can he prove?”
“It’s not what he can prove that worries me. It’s what he might do when he realizes he’s being systematically destroyed.” William caught his arm. “Watch your back, old friend. And more importantly, see to your Duchess. Cornered animals are dangerous, and you’ve given him every reason to consider her a target.”
Ambrose’s expression darkened. “If he so much as looks at my wife the wrong way…”
“Exactly my point. You’re thinking with your heart instead of your head, and that makes you vulnerable.” William released his arm. “Just be careful. Some victories come at too high a price.”
But Ambrose was already walking away, his mind already moving to the next phase of Peirce’s destruction. He’d waited too long for his revenge to let William’s cautious nature slow him down now.
Besides, what could Peirce possibly do? The man was finished, whether he knew it or not.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Emily, darling, you simply must speak to your sister,” Lady Ridgewell declared the moment Emily entered the drawing room of the family townhouse. “Georgina is being entirely unreasonable about her debut preparations.”
Emily glanced at Georgina, who sat curled in the window seat with a book, looking remarkably composed for someone supposedly causing their mother distress.
“What seems to be the trouble, Mama?”
“She refuses to practice her curtsey! And when I mentioned the importance of securing eligible dance partners, she had the audacity to suggest she might prefer to remain a spinster!” Lady Ridgewell’s voice rose to near-hysteria. “A spinster, Emily! As though that were some sort of viable option!”
“Perhaps,” Emily said carefully, “Georgina simply needs time to adjust to the idea of entering society.”
“Time? She debuts in three months! There’s no time for adjustment—there’s only time for preparation and panic!” Lady Ridgewell pressed a hand to her forehead dramatically. “I feel one of my headaches coming on. Emily, please, speak some sense into her. You understand the importance of making a good match.”
“Of course, Mama. Why don’t you rest for a bit? I’ll speak with Georgina.”
“Yes, yes, perhaps that’s best. I need my smelling salts.” Lady Ridgewell swept from the room in a rustle of silk, leaving the sisters alone.
Emily settled into the chair across from Georgina’s window seat. “Well? Are you truly planning to embrace spinsterhood?”
Georgina looked up from her book with a grin. “The idea has its merits. Think of all the novels I could read without anyone fussing about my posture or my smile.”
“Georgie.”
“I know, I know. I’m being difficult.” Georgina closed her book and studied Emily with eyes far too perceptive for her fifteen years. “But enough about my matrimonial rebellion. How are you really doing?”
