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Aunt Adelaide poured the brown liquid with artful grace. “Minerva is a clever girl. She hasn’t shared a single detail with me as to what exactly she has planned. But she did mention on one of her visits that her future is everything that her current life is not.”
Kent took the tea his aunt offered. “Diana is the master of riddles, not I. Pray, explain.”
“Anthony will have to do the honors of deciphering Minerva’s riddle, for I too am at a loss as to what your sister intends.” She handed Anthony a cup and saucer.
“My thanks, Aunt Adelaide.” He stared down into the brown liquid. A few stray tea leaves sank to the bottom of his cup. “What does a lady lack in life?”
“Freedom,” Aunt Adelaide answered.
In unison, Anthony and Kent repeated, “Freedom?”
“Did I stutter?” Aunt Adelaide shook her head.
“No, Aunt Adelaide, you did not.” Anthony stood and moved to resume his position by the window.
Kent leaned back and rested his elbow on the arm of the settee. “My sister enjoys many freedoms already. I don’t understand what more she could possibly wish for.”
“That is because you are a gentleman, an heir to a viscount.” Aunt Adelaide sipped on her tea and speared Anthony with a look over her still-steaming drink. “And you…an earl, should have already married and sired an heir.”
If he could have assured Minerva’s health and safety, he would have married her years ago. He needed to return to his lodgings and mull over what Minerva could have possibly meant by a future that was everything that her current life was not.
“I think it is time I took my leave.” He bowed in Aunt Adelaide’s direction. “My thanks for the tea and the edification.”
Kent remained seated. “I shall catch up with you later, my friend. I want to spend a little more time with my aunt.”
Anthony marched out to the street. It wasn’t a question of whether or not he’d be able to decipher Minerva’s riddle but whether he could before the completion of their chess game.
Chapter Twelve
The drawing roomat the Malbury townhouse was a hive of activity. Surrounded by her family and soon-to-be family members—Gregory, Isadora, Diana, Chestwick, Avondale, and Charlotte—Minerva was struck with a pang of anxiety. If she were to win her matches with Camdon and Anthony, she’d be free to assume the role of Madame Rose, but she would be excluded from these intimate gatherings.
She raised her cup of tea and took a sip of the warm liquid, to chase away the chill that had descended down her back.
Isadora addressed the group. “I suggest we review what we do know of Camdon, rather than continue to speculate on aspects of the man we don’t know.” Her statement garnered a round of nods.
Chestwick, who was normally one to observe rather than offer an opinion, said, “I know nothing of the man, except that he was rather taken by Minerva at dinner the other eve.”
If Charlotte had not been sitting directly in front of her, Minerva might have missed the slight clenching of her sister’s hand upon the quill as she meticulously scribbled on the parchment before her. The designated secretary, Charlotte had listened intently to every comment and assumption made by the others all afternoon. And not once had she displayed a reaction until Chestwick’s last remark. It was a telltale sign she knew way more about Lord Camdon than what she’d led the others to believe.
“I believe it’s time for some much-needed fresh air.” Minerva rose from the settee and deposited her cup and saucer on the refreshments cart. “Lady Charlotte, would you care to accompany me for a stroll in the gardens?” Ignoring the stares of concern, Minerva walked directly in front of the settee to stand by Charlotte, who was seated at the desk, and whispered, “I think it best if we discuss Lord Camdon in private.”
Charlotte’s gaze went to straight to Avondale. Minerva studied the pair. Just as she could read the minds of her siblings, it appeared Charlotte could communicate without words with her brother.
Avondale’s near-imperceptible nod had Charlotte smiling up at Minerva. “That’s a grand idea.” The girl made a show of gathering up the sheets of parchment that contained the notes from the afternoon’s discussions. Once she had them all arranged into a neat stack, she looped her arm through Minerva’s and the pair set off for the gardens.
It wasn’t until they were outdoors and venturing down the garden path that Charlotte began to read from the paper she held steadily in her hands. “Lord Joshua David Chapman, the Earl of Camdon. Age: seven and twenty. Family: father and mother deceased, older brother deceased, elder sister married to Baron William Stenton—they have three boys. Camdon also has three younger brothers: Nathan, who is four and twenty, Samuel, who is three and twenty, and Zachary, who recently turned twenty.”
With time running out, Minerva didn’t have time to waste or play games with her soon-to-be sister-in-law. She needed to take the situation in hand, so she lifted the stack of papers from Charlotte’s hands and glanced over the top sheet. “I must say, you have lovely penmanship—however, mayhap you could share with me details I won’t find in my latest copy ofDebrett’s.”
Charlotte withdrew her arm and stopped in front of a rosebush. With a sigh, she clasped her hands behind her back and tipped her chin to her chest in thought. “Your request poses a problem for me.”
Minerva smiled and replied, “Because you are an agent for the Foreign Office, and you are loyal to your leader. So if you provide me with the information I need to win, it could be viewed as an act of subterfuge.”
“Exactly.”
“Very well. Would you be willing to share with me your personal views on Lord Camdon? You need not provide specifics.”
Charlotte’s brow wrinkled. “I suppose I could share my opinions. Lord Camdon is an extremely skilled agent. His ability to adopt whatever persona is necessary comes as naturally to him as breathing. His distaste for failure, combined with his unfailing patience, will make him a formidable opponent.”
