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“I’m not.If they are foolish enough to sit at one of my tables, if they are foolish enough to think they can win the once-in-a-lifetime prize of the Isis Diamonds for their blood-sucking mistresses, then I am foolish enough to come up with a foolproof plan.”
Matthew held his tongue for a moment.It was impossible that Madame DuPuis knew anything about his past, especially his mother’s checkered history, wasn’t it?He hadn’t made a mistake in assuming she didn’t remember him from the days of yore?It seemed as if she was toying with Matthew, as well.He thought he was the cat.Maybe he was the mouse.
“Well, we only have one other problem,” Matthew said.
“I’m sure we can fix it.”
“I have no idea where the diamonds are.”
“Find out.While you are in bed.You are not very good at the husband game yet, are you?”
“I would prefer my wife respect me fornotstealing her jewels.”But he would steal them if he had to!He could think of numerous ways to do so without her ever knowing, if he actually found them.
Alice waved for one of the servants and obtained refills for them.“Let me give you a small tip.If you are providing your wife with pleasure-inducing release during the sex act, she should be quite malleable.Oh, and how are those two new daughters of yours?”
“Charming and well-adjusted.It seems that as their stepfather, my primary duty in life will be to provide ponies.So, how much time do you need to set up this winner-take-all tournament?”
“That depends on you.We’ll have to secure the diamonds first, then the plan can come together after.What is your difficulty with Sandhurst, if I may ask?You already have the two most valuable Sandhurst possessions under your wing.Four, if you count the children.”
“I’m sure if you ask enough questions, you will find out.”
“I’m asking you,” Alice said.
“There are just some men in the world who don’t belong here.”
“A vigilante, are you?”
“Hardly.It is just a shame men like Cyril Elliston end up with money and a place on the chessboard when they are nothing more than a draught piece.And believe me, I know draughts.”He also knew his own character and he was by far the better candidate for being a duke than either Sandhurst or Welliver.In spite of his failings.
* * * * *
The Timesand theDaily Informerfrom yesterday, theManchester Guardianfrom a week ago andThe Scotsmanpapers were stacked on the foyer table.Rose slidThe Timesout and sat on the staircase to read her wedding announcement.Hopeful for a positive, well-written notice that wouldn’t cause mirth amongst her set, she licked her fingers and quickly searched.
Mr.Matthew Hardy, Highwood, Islington, and The Duchess of Sandhurst, Rose, married in the dwelling of Alice DuPuis, Brompton, by Special License.
It was all true.It was all very upsetting.Matthew wasn’t to blame for the directness of the notice, he was just the unlucky man who had happened along at Madame DuPuis’.He’d never said what sort of money he owed to the madame.Rose doubted she was worth the effort, considering the weight she would bring to him and their marriage.
Who would Madame DuPuis have found for her if it weren’t for the secret urgency?An irreverent marquess?An unfaithful earl?Matthew didn’t appear to have any immediate flaws, but it was readily apparent their worlds were vastly different.
It was also apparent that she hadn’t been told everything.
Rose glanced around the grand foyer of Highwood.No.Madame DuPuis hadn’t said Matthew was in debt.It was something else and she would figure it out.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t hear Raleigh approach.“Your Grace?Is anything amiss?”
“No.”She pushed to her feet and replaced the newspaper on its stack.“Would it be difficult to arrange an afternoon tea for a few of my acquaintances?”Anything to make her life seem somewhat normal.
It would never be normal again.How long would it take for her to forget she wasn’t a duchess?She must take heart!After all, she was still a lady of nothing.
“Not at all,” he said.
“I need to send invitations.May I use the library?”
“Mr.Hardy would prefer that, in fact.You will find embossed paper, ink and wax on the desk.When you are ready, I will send a boy to deliver your notes.”
Rose had a routine at Sandhurst, made more important after Edmond died.Cyril had had an apoplectic fit when she’d stopped wearing her widow’s weeds after two months.That wasn’t all he criticized her for.And she’d seen the cross glances at the few balls she’d started attending, even though she’d remained circumspect.
As she searched the desk for the items she needed, she wondered if maybe she’d been different all along and just masked it behind her very proper upbringing, and her very successful marriage to the duke and her perfect family, except for the heir she now wished she had.
