How To Seduce A Duke

Then the tiny, plump woman turned her eyes up to Mary. “No, dear. I meant the duke.” She smiled at Mary and gave her a little nudge. “He called upon me yesterday for permission to squire you about in his brother’s stead. Very gentlemanly of him, don’t you agree?”

“He called upon you yesterday-during the day, not that evening?” Mary was stunned. “What hour was this, might I ask?”

Lady Upperton’s eyes wedged to one side and she tapped her index finger on her lower lip as she thought. “I suppose it must have been around one o’clock in the afternoon.” She glanced back up at Mary. “Why do you ask, dear?”

“Because he came to Berkeley Square in the morning to apologize for kissing me-then he called again at three o’clock for a phaeton ride in Hyde Park. But Lord Wetherly did not call until…” Mary narrowed her eyes.

“Oh, dear.” Elizabeth’s gaze locked with Anne’s. “Do you know what this means?”

“I do.” Anne cringed.

“Well, I do not!” Lady Upperton scuttled over to Anne. “What consequence does the time of the duke’s visit with me hold?”

“Lord Wetherly did not call upon Mary to inform her of his promise to escort Lady Tidwell to the season’s events”-Anne’s gaze flitted over Mary with every third word-“and the duke’s promise to watch over Mary…until late last evening.”

Mary could not believe what she was hearing. “It means, Lady Upperton, that the duke is no gentleman. He has not changed at all. He knew Lord Wetherly would be asked to escort Lady Tidwell to events-well before his brother was asked for the favor.”

She grabbed a small tufted cushion from the modiste’s hand and started plucking out the pins that held the silk in place, jabbing them into the cushion. “He very nearly had me fooled into believing he was actually a considerate, well-mannered gentleman. But I was wrong. Oh! I was so wrong.”

Mary ground her teeth while she struggled to withdraw a pin just behind her shoulder. “Why, I believe this whole Lady Tidwell scheme was crafted by Blackstone’s hand as a means to keep Lord Wetherly and me apart!”

Finally, Mary pulled the last pin free and unwound herself from the silken cocoon. “The ton got the right of it when they dubbed him the Black Duke, for there is no one with a more wicked soul. But this time he has gone too far.”

Mary disappeared behind the screen and quickly dressed. Then, without a word of explanation to anyone, she snatched up her shawl and charged out the door, angrily muttering to herself.

“Go ahead and play your horrid little games, Blackstone, you…you brimstone beast. I can outlast you. I can. Two months is not so very long.”

“Yes, Miss Royle, I’m certain.” Mrs. Polkshank bobbed her double chin as she topped off Mary’s teacup. “The duke won’t be pinchin’ anyone’s bottom at the musicale this evenin’-oh, me language. I beg your pardon, Miss Royle, I did overhear that bit when you and your sisters were talking last night.”

“Are you sure he will not be there?” Mary asked.

“Oh, I am sure of it. He ain’t on the guest list at all.” She widened her mouth in a proud smile. “Only cost me a wee kiss to get one of the Harringtons’ footmen to slip above stairs and snatch that bit of news for you.”

“A kiss?” Mary narrowed her eyes. “What happened to the two shillings I gave you?”

Sheepishly, Mrs. Polkshank revealed the two shillings and slid them onto the parlor tea table. “I was thinkin’ that since I got the information you needed, that I might be able to…keep the coins?”

Mary sighed. A shilling here, a tuppence there.

Avoiding the Black Duke was going to get very expensive before the summer was through.

Still, she’d gladly pay a half crown every night if it could keep her from running into the all-too-clever duke.

“Very well, Mrs. Polkshank, the money is yours to keep. Thank you for your report.” She took a sip of her steaming tea.

Lady Upperton would be very pleased to see her at the musicale, especially after she missed Lady Holland’s dinner party the previous night owing to the sick pain in her head. “What have you heard about the Heroes’ Fete? Anything yet?”

“Far as I know, all of London society will be there, miss. And, seein’ as how Lord Wetherly is one of the heroes bein’ celebrated…”

“I must attend,” Mary said to herself, “for Lord Wetherly.”

“Well, yes. But what I was about to say was that his brother will no doubt be there too. Don’t you think so? I would certainly attend if everyone was makin’ a royal fuss about my brother-if I had one. Which I don’t.”

“What?” Mary looked up at the cook. “Oh, I believe you are correct, Mrs. Polkshank. By the way, I left several more invitations for you on the table in the kitchen.”

“Oh, thank you, miss.”

“You need not dread the task. I hid a few more shillings in the water bucket by the meat spit. Use them, or keep them for yourself-as long as you let me know whether or not the Duke of Blackstone will be attending the events.”

Mrs. Polkshank grinned, revealing the gap where one of her front teeth used to be. “As long as the household’s got footmen,” she puckered her lips saucily, “I can find some way of learnin’ if the duke is attendin’ or not.” The entire right half of Mrs. Polkshank’s face contorted as she winked. “If you get my meanin’.”

When Mary looked up, Anne was standing directly behind the cook.

Oh no. Mary rested her head in her hand. Redirect the conversation. Quick. “Yes, Cook, a roast would be perfect for our Sunday meal. Good day.”

“What? A roast? Beggin’ your pardon, Miss Royle, but this is short notice, Miss Royle.” Mrs. Polkshank picked up the near empty teapot. “I’ll have to see what the butcher has. Maybe give him a little sugar too.” She laughed heartily, then turned around to see Anne glaring at her. Her expression sobered at once.

“That will be all, Cook,” Mary managed. “Thank you.”

“Yes, miss.” Mrs. Polkshank slinked out of the parlor and headed below stairs.

“Well?” Anne folded her arms over her chest.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to hear that you, our frugal sister who will not even allow us to hail a hackney in the rain, is paying our cook…and housekeeper…to steal peeks at society’s guest lists!”

“Do you know of another way I can survive the next two months? I cannot abide the duke.”

Anne unfolded her arms and slapped a hand to the table.

“Yes. Act like a mature woman. Lady Upperton has provided us with unmatched entree into society. You might be a little grateful.”

“I am grateful for what she is doing for you and Elizabeth, but I have already met the gentleman I intend to marry. What good can come of my attending events?”

“To help us, Mary.”

“To help you and Elizabeth scout for mates? How could I be of assistance with that? I know almost no one in Town. And the Old Rakes, who are fully ensconced in society, have already committed themselves to seeing each of you matched.”

“Oh, you are wearing blinders.” Anne sat down beside her. “You are clever, Mary. You are curious. We need your help to investigate the story we’ve been told. All we have is a document box filled with scribbles and letters, none seeming to relate to another.”

Mary laid her hand on the book sitting beside her on the table. “We also have Papa’s medical reference.”

“And two empty laudanum bottles,” came their sister’s voice.

Mary and Anne looked up to see Elizabeth standing in the doorway with two small, dark amber labeled bottles in her hand.

Anne stood and crossed to her sister. She took the two bottles and held them up to the bright sunlight streaming through the window.

“Where did you find these? I don’t recall seeing them in either box.” Anne handed one of the bottles to Mary.

“Nor do I.” Mary turned the bottle over in her hand, then looked at Elizabeth.