Page 35 of Lady Arabella’s Reluctant Hero

Thea considered this. "I'm just curious."

Estella made a small sound that might have been a stifled laugh.

"Naturally." The duchess sighed. "I shall be sharing certain information with you all on the strict condition that none of you, under any circumstances, repeat a word of it. Not to your maids, not to your friends, not to your diaries. Are we agreed?"

A murmur of assent.

"A young woman of your acquaintance has been under the control of a man who has been using her for information." She held up a hand before Clarissa could speak. "I shall not tell you what he has on her, and I shall not tell you her name in this room, though some of you may have already guessed. What I will tell you is that I believe the man who controls her is part of a network. The same network Sebastian and I have been quietly investigating."

Estella's hand found Sebastian's arm.

"As you know, two years ago," the duchess continued, "a fire was set at Sebastian's estate, Linley Grange. The fire was deliberate, and it was intended to cause harm. We have known this for some time but have lacked proof. What we have now, thanks to this young woman, is a witness who can place voices at a nearby inn the night before the fire, potentially discussing it in advance."

The room was quiet.

"I am not asking any of you to investigate," the duchess said. "I am asking you to be watchful. Keep your eyes open at events, and tell me if you see or hear anything unusual, particularly anything connected to a Mr. Pierce, who is the young woman's contact, or to any associates of his who may be operating in London."

"Pierce," Kit repeated. "I don't know that name."

"Nor should you," the duchess said. "It seems he's a music tutor for ladies of the ton."

Clarissa, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, spoke up. "And John? Where does my brother fit into all this?"

The duchess softened. "Lord Alderton has been a tremendous help. He has been looking after this young woman with great care and discretion, and I am very grateful to him."

Clarissa bit her lip with a worried frown. "Is he in danger?"

"No more than usual for a man who insists on doing the right thing at every available opportunity." The duchess smiled. "Your brother is doing very well, my dear. He is taking very good care of her." She paused. "He does not, however, know the details about any of this. Neither does she, for that matter."

She looked to Sebastian, who met her gaze evenly. "I should like to inform them. As they could be in danger, I believe they are due an explanation. But I did not want to make that call on my own."

Sebastian gave a short nod. "Of course. If she's in danger, they ought to know why and who to steer clear of."

"Yes," the duchess said. "My thoughts exactly."

A silence settled.

"Right," the duchess said briskly. "Now that we are all thoroughly informed and thoroughly sworn to secrecy… Thea, dear, would you be so good as to ring for more tea? I find conspiracies are thirsty work."

12

Linley Grange was not a man.

Arabella sat in the duchess's drawing room with a cup of tea growing cold in her hands and tried to absorb what she had just been told.

Linley Grange was an estate. Lord Blackwood's estate, to be precise. Two years ago, within hours of the conversation she had overheard at the inn, someone had set it alight.

The fire had killed Lord Blackwood's closest friend, and had very nearly killed the duchess's sister.

Once Linley's done, we shall have the funds we need.

She had carried that remark for two years, believing it referred to a man. A creditor, perhaps. A business associate. She had turned the words over so many times they had grown meaningless.

But they were not meaningless. They were evidence.

The duchess had delivered all of this with the calm precision Arabella had come to expect from her, and was now watching Arabella from across the tea tray.

Lord Alderton sat in the chair beside Arabella's. He had been quiet throughout the duchess's explanation, though his hands had done that thing they did—curling slowly into fists on his thighs, then deliberately uncurling.