How To Seduce A Duke

“Wasn’t a proper bow.” The third man, who wore an absurd auburn wig upon his head, tilted a bulbed glass of brandy to his lips.

Lord Lotharian grimaced. “What do you mean, Gallantine? I thought my bow was more than proper-it was… magnificent.”

“Hardly. Half of a truly magnificently crafted bow is sweeping upright again. Observe.” With that, the wigged gentleman bowed gracefully to the Royle sisters. Then, with hardly any popping or crackling of bones, he drew up again and clicked his heels together in triumph. “That, gentlemen, is a proper bow.”

For the fourth time, because it was the correct response to Gallantine’s bow, the Royle sisters curtsied.

Then, they curtsied twice more for propriety’s sake when Sir Lumley Lilywhite and the Chancey Chumley, Viscount Gallantine introduced themselves.

To Mary’s way of thinking, it was now time to finish their mission. “My dear gentlemen, my sisters and I are standing in what I believe to be a private gentleman’s club-a rakes’ club.”

Mary straightened her spine and continued, “Despite our entering through Lady Upperton’s home, which for some reason looks to be a mirror image of this club, I am sure you realize that our presence in the club is quite unseemly, as we are unmarried young women.” Mary pursed her lips, as she’d seen Anne do so many times before when wishing to impart the seriousness of any given situation.

“Therefore, I wonder if you might share with us the meaning of your rather cryptic missive so that we may depart as soon as possible and protect our family name. We have brought along the key, as you requested.” Mary nudged Elizabeth, who wore the key on a blue satin ribbon around her neck.

“Yes, we are keen to learn its dual purpose. But, before we do, sir, might I ask your opinion?” Elizabeth asked as she stepped toward Gallantine. “Was my curtsy properly executed?”

When the gentleman merely stared at her, she stammered on. “I-I do wish to know. We were raised in the country and I believe largely unschooled in the ways of polite society.”

Lord Lotharian laughed and answered in Gallantine’s stead. “Your curtsy-curtsies, rather-were splendid, my dear. And I seriously doubt your social schooling was lacking in any way, because your father traveled in the most select circles of London’s Quality.”

“He did?” Anne blurted. “Lady Upperton hinted as much. But…but he was an ordinary country physician.”

“Oh, a physician he was, dear. But hardly ordinary. He was the Prince of Wales’ personal physician…as well as one of his boon companions-his drinking mates-and a founding member of the Old Rakes of Marylebone…though we were just the Rakes of Marylebone then. Handsome lot, we were. Not quite as wrinkled as we are now.”

Lord Lotharian grinned for a moment, then took in a deep breath and exhaled hard through his nose. “Do not misunderstand. I am no longer proud of the nature of our association, but I cannot deny that at one time, before the three of you were born, we were all intimates of His Majesty the Prince Regent.”

Father was an intimate of Prinny?

Mary felt the blood racing from her head, and she made to the settee and collapsed upon it.

Lord Lotharian’s hand shook almost imperceptibly as he lifted a decanter of brandy from the tantalus and splashed full a crystal glass for Mary. “Please take this, Miss Royle. It will ease your senses.”

“I-I’m sorry. This is all too much information for one day.” She looked up at the crystal he held before her. “Oh, no thank you, Lord Lotharian.”

“Dear gel, I highly recommend some Dutch courage.” He lowered the drink into her hands. “For your visit is not yet at an end, and there is more I must tell you.”

More? Lud, maybe she ought to take it.

She accepted the brandy from him and quickly raised the glass to her mouth.

True, she had no tolerance for spirits, none at all, but she drank down the nerve-bracing amber liquid without hesitation.

Lord Lotharian shoved his hand through his thick hair. “Damn me,” she heard him mutter beneath his breath. “Please forgive me, ladies. I should not have tossed your father’s past into the air as I did.”

Anne hurried to Mary and sat beside her. She looked up at Lord Lotharian. “We needed to know, my lord. You did nothing wrong by telling us.”

“Our Mary was simply not prepared to hear it.” Elizabeth crossed to Mary and patted her shoulder. “You see, while Anne and I believed what my father’s documents suggested, enough to investigate the story of our births further, Mary did not.”

Mary’s head was already spinning a bit, and the conversation at hand was too fantastic to be believed.

Feeling more than a little uneasy, she lowered her gaze and set herself to the mindless task of straightening the wrist lacing on the underside of each of her kid gloves.

When she glanced up again, she was immediately pinned by Anne’s all-knowing gaze.

The edges of Anne’s lips lifted in that superior way of hers as she curled her fingers around Mary’s wrist. “Though I daresay, she cannot ignore the possibility of the story’s truth now. Can you, Mary?”

Chapter 3

Mary primly folded her hands in her lap and looked around at the five people gazing upon her.

“Father was educated and well mannered. It is not such a leap to imagine him well regarded in London society.” Mary paused then.

No one said a word. She was compelled to explain herself further. “Picturing him as a member of Prinny’s retinue, however, is a lump of information not as easily swallowed, but still not outside the realm of believability.”

“So you do believe.” Elizabeth’s countenance brightened radiantly.

Mary shook her head. “No.”

Anne’s body seemed to stiffen. Her brow furrowed, and whether intentionally or not, she tightened her fingers around Mary’s wrist enough to make it smart. “But you just said-”

“No, I did not.” Frustrated, Mary shook her head. “Even if I take the story of Father’s past as gospel-and I have no reason not to believe what the gentlemen here have shared with us-I have yet to hear anything that would lead me to consider that our blood is the slightest bit blue.”

“That is precisely why I asked the three of you here this day, darling.” Lord Lotharian nodded his head at the other two gentlemen, summoning them. Silently, they came to stand behind the settee where Mary and Anne sat.

“We are convinced of your lineage,” Lord Lotharian said firmly.

“What proof have you?” Mary raised her right eyebrow. “Any at all? My lords, I do not mean to be rude, but this claim you make, if true and bolstered by evidence, would not be inconsequential-our lives would be changed forever. And Lord above, I dare not even consider what stand the Crown would take, though I should think it reasonable to say the position would not be one of support.”

“Mary!” Elizabeth turned away and turned a pleading gaze upon Lord Lotharian. “My lord, please forgive my sister’s brusque words. She is simply overcome.”

Lord Lotharian waved his age-spotted hand in the air dismissively. “Were I in her place, my words would be much the same.” He paused for a moment then and lifted a thick gray eyebrow. “Though, I might have waited for a reply after asking for proof.”

“Is there proof then?” For an instant, Mary almost believed that there might be, for Lord Lotharian seemed quite assured.

She almost believed. Almost. But not entirely.

The idea that she and her sisters were the issue of the Prince of Wales and Mrs. Fitzherbert was more than a bit preposterous. The notion was completely mad.

“The key!” Elizabeth blurted. “The key is the proof!”

Lord Lotharian shook his head slowly.

“But you lured us here by hinting that this”-Elizabeth revealed the brass key-“was the