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Simon glared at her. “Over my dead body.”
Ruth threw down the paper with an exasperated noise in her throat. “He is a Duke. He is a friend of Lord Vickers whom we have just mentioned. The Clauder’s trace their ancestry to the Conquest for goodness sake. You simply cannot have a social engagement in the capital without at least inviting him.”
“No!” Simon roared, once again getting to his feet, hands planted on the desk. “I will not have a Clauder present. How could you even suggest it, after what that family has been responsible for?”
“Because they have always been a staple of London society. If you do not invite them, then you invite questions. Some will speculate that our family is not to be taken seriously. Some will speculate that we are out of favor with the very elite of our society. And what chance will that give Alice for finding a prosperous match? Do you wish her to marry some…some country squire?”
Ruth’s anger was ice compared to the fire that burned in Simon. His hands tightened into fists on the top of the desk. Ruth glared back, refusing to be intimidated. They had clashed many times during childhood and the victory in those confrontations could be divided up equally between them. Both were proud and confident, convinced of their own rightness in any situation. Both were strong-willed and unwilling to be the one to back down.
Simon turned away, stalking to the window, then to the fireplace, made restless by his anger.
“I cannot believe you would even suggest it.”
“I suggest it because these are the rules that we must adhere to in order to take our place within the society of this country. If you do not like it then perhaps you should consider leaving it. Except, wherever Englishmen settle, I think you will find they take their social rules and conventions with them,” Ruth said.
“I…I cannot,” Simon faltered.
“You must,” Ruth persisted.
I know I must but I cannot bring myself to agree. It feels wrong. That family has caused so much harm to ours. And for no reason. Other than greed and jealousy.
“He probably will not attend. The current Duke is known for shunning social functions. My friend, Mrs. Dalliard, tells me that he has not attended a debut since he inherited. And that was five years ago. We must invite him and he will likely decline. Nothing will be read into this by the Ton because he has declined literally everyone. So, there is no harm in inviting him and no pride lost,” Ruth said, making her tone softer.
I must. And, as usual, Ruth sees to the heart of things. When my mind is clouded by anger, she is a ray of sunlight into the storm clouds.
“Very well,” Simon said quietly. “Issue an invitation to him. And pray that he does not decide to end his self-imposed social exile with our occasion.”
“He will not,” Ruth said with confidence.
Simon turned back to her, a smile stealing across his bleak expression.
“I suppose it should come as no surprise to me to discover who is in charge of your household.”
“It certainly should not. Do you think that Papa was in charge of ours?”
“I got that impression, yes.”
“Nonsense, dear Simon. Papa was allowed to run the family business but it was Mama who ruled the house,” Ruth said with a smile. “I carry on that tradition. Hathway women are and always will be formidable opponents.”
Simon laughed, feeling the anger flow out of him.
You always knew how to do that, dear sister. When you won the battle, victory was always followed by magnanimity and laughter. While I became obnoxious in my need to laud victory over you.
“So, we will make the token invitation to the Duke of Redwood and forget about him. He will not attend,” Simon said, resuming his seat.
“Exactly. He is a repulsive reptile who will not dare to show his face anyway,” Ruth replied.
“Yes. A shameful blackguard without morals.”
“But, with the crimes that we know he is responsible for against our family, even a shameless man would hesitate.”
“Only if he were capable of recognizing his actions as shameful,” Simon said bitterly. “I do not believe that Harold Clauder is capable of such recognition. The man is worse than a reptile. I would not mourn his death. In fact, I would welcome it.”
CHAPTER4
Number 10, Hallingham Place, was, to Alice, a work of magic. An ordinary enough townhouse, on a pretty street overlooking Regent’s Park. The facade was of dark stone, the window sills white and the front door black with a shiny brass knocker. The house blended into the street with perfect anonymity. But inside was a different story.
Light flooded into the hall from a skylight window above. Sparkling chandeliers occupied the space in between the windows and cast a bright sheen over the dark wood panels that covered the walls. The floors were also wood paneled, though paler. Mirrors gave an impression of much greater space and reflected the glittering drops of crystal light from above. It made the house’s main hall look like the inside of a precious gem. Alice had been instantly enraptured.
