How To Seduce A Duke

key to more than Papa’s document box.”

“And it may be, but I do not know for certain,” Lotharian admitted. “May I?” He reached out for the key, and Elizabeth handed it to him. “The key has a dual purpose, as I mentioned. Watch.” The tall, lean lord turned the oval grip at the head of the key and removed it, revealing a hexagonal tip. “Your father told me that if anything should happen to him, this hidden key would open the trapdoor.”

“What trapdoor?” Anne demanded. “In our house in Cornwall?”

Lotharian shrugged. “I fear he shared no more with me than I have with you. I got the distinct impression that he was apprehensive about telling me about the key at all. But, yes, I would assume the secret key is for a trapdoor in his country home. I admit, I had held out some hope that you gels would know better what his cryptic words truly meant.”

“We know nothing of any trapdoor.” Mary cast a knowing glance at each of her sisters. “Our trip here is for naught.”

“On the contrary, Miss Royle. We had a very good reason for requesting your presence this day,” Gallantine broke in before Mary could utter another word.

The door from the passage opened then, and a petite, doe-eyed maid entered the room with a tray of tea and biscuits.

Given the nature of the preceding conversation, Mary expected that Lotharian would raise his hand to Gallantine and silence him until the privacy of the library was restored.

But he did not.

“Allow me to share another story from our past. Something you three must hear.” He slid his crystal over his lower lip and swallowed a few sips of brandy with an audible gulp. “The year was 1795. A full month had passed since the prince had dispatched your father to Margate to tend to Maria…Mrs. Fitzherbert.”

Mary’s gaze followed the maid as she laid the tea service on the small table before them. She did not speak, nor look directly at anyone, despite the extraordinary tale Lotharian was beginning to share; she merely finished her business and silently left the room.

“At the time,” Lotharian noted, his thick eyebrows twitching excitedly, “it was rumored Mrs. Fitzherbert had fallen ill after the prince had abruptly severed their union and agreed to marry Princess Caroline.”

Mary found herself holding her breath, waiting for the piece of the story that would prove the story naught but a fantasy.

She slid a glance at Anne, the more even-minded of her sisters. But even she was staring moon-eyed at Lotharian, much as she had done when Papa had read them faery stories when they were children.

Lotharian continued the tale, pausing only for a breath or another sip of brandy. “It was clear to all of us that George still cared deeply for Maria, his wife of the heart-that’s what he oft called her, you know-so it did not seem out of character for the prince to send his trusted personal physician, your father, to tend to her.”

Lilywhite nodded his head vigorously. “But a month was a damned long while for your father to be out of Town without so much as sending a letter to anyone. Not like him in the least. I began to wonder if something was wrong. Finally, I decided to send a missive to Margate, the house in the country to which Mrs. Fitzherbert had retired, to inquire about his plans to return to London.”

Gallantine nodded his auburn-wigged head in agreement. “Your father always was the responsible sort. We knew something was not as it should be.”

Lilywhite slapped his hand to his thigh. “Well, you can imagine my surprise when the letter was returned, unopened. We soon learned that your father was no longer at Margate. Hadn’t been for weeks. He had, in fact, retired to his family cottage in Cornwall and had expressed to no one any intent to return to London-ever.”

“Bah, there could be many reasons he retired to Cornwall.” Mary twisted her wrist and wrenched it from Anne’s painful grasp. She rubbed it as she shuffled through her mind for the correct words. “The most likely being that Mrs. Frasier, the housekeeper, found a basket of three babies on the doorstep and he needed to attend to them…or us, rather.”

Lotharian’s wild eyebrows arched, giving Mary the impression of a frost-covered grassy hillock. “My, my. Is that what you were told?”

“Yes, it was. It was never a secret in our house.” Mary peered through narrowed eyes at each of the three gentlemen in turn. “And you all must admit that the idea of some pinch-penny country unfortunate leaving her babies on the doorstep to be taken in by someone more able to care for them is far more likely.”

Gallantine nodded his head. “She has you there, Lotharian.” He headed for the tantalus. “More brandy, anyone?” His offer was greeted by the other two gentlemen raising their empty glasses in the air.

Clutching the decanter in his delicate, long-fingered hands, Gallantine crossed back to his friends and filled their crystal goblets half full.

“My thanks, old chap.” Lotharian tilted the short-stemmed goblet to his lips and drank deeply. When he finished, he dabbed his lips together, then ran his tongue over his lips, as if ensuring he recovered every last drop.

He looked pointedly at Mary. “Oh yes, I do agree. The abandoned babies story is infinitely believable-but sadly, that retelling of your delivery into your father’s care is far from the truth.” He tapped his hand twice upon his knee for emphasis.

Elizabeth reached out and laid her hand atop Lord Lotharian’s. “Then will you share the true story?” She shot an uneasy glance at Mary, then added, “The true story…as you know it, my lord.”

“Oh, do allow me.” Lilywhite circled around from behind the settee, catching up a small cherrywood chair near the hearth as he moved closer to the sisters. “It’s such a dramatic tale, and I vow neither of you gents will do it justice.”

He slowly lowered himself into the chair, sucked in a deep breath, and glanced at Lotharian as if first seeking permission to speak.

Only when the taller lord nodded his consent did Lilywhite begin.

“With no explanation for Royle’s disappearance, Lord Upperton, God rest his soul, Lady Upperton, and the three of us decided we had no recourse but to venture to lower Cornwall ourselves and learn the fate of our friend.”

“And what did you learn, my lord?” Anne’s fingers absently clutched her skirts, wrinkling them for certain.

“Everything. We arrived unannounced, late one night, but Royle welcomed us inside the cottage and offered us brandy. He was clearly distraught with our sudden appearance. I remember hearing it in the low tone of his voice and seeing it in his eyes-the way they kept darting toward the staircase every minute or so. Most certainly, we could not have known that there were three babies, the three of you, sleeping soundly inside one of the upper bedchambers. He obviously meant to keep it a secret. But his nerves grew ever more shredded as the minutes passed, and he turned to the brandy again and again.”

“Oh, good heavens, Lilywhite.” Lotharian threw back his head in clear frustration. “You are taking far too long with the telling!” Lotharian returned Elizabeth’s gloved hand to her own knee, then he rose and moved to the hearth, leaning an elbow upon the white-veined green marble. “Get on with it, man.”

Lilywhite began speaking very quickly, as though, Mary decided, if he were to pause, Lotharian would seize the story for his own. “Within an hour, the brandy had loosened his tongue, and Royle, the man who raised you, revealed a series of events like no other.” He cast a wary glance at Lotharian.

“Good God, man, go on.” Lotharian lifted his goblet to his mouth but did not drink. Mary could see he was peering intently at her over the lip of the crystal. He was watching for her reaction, waiting for it.

Lilywhite took another deep, calming breath before speaking again. The story was certainly about to take a dramatic turn.

“He told us that Prinny had called upon him late one eve, demanding he hurry to Margate to tend to his wife. Yes, he used that term-his wife. Your father was given no indication of what necessitated his urgent dispatch to Margate, but he left at once. When he arrived, he found Mrs. Fitzherbert, barely coherent, and in the midst of a difficult birth.”

Lilywhite feigned a cough, raised his goblet, and gestured for Gallantine to refill it, which he begrudgingly did.

The portly Old Rake tilted the glass to his mouth and gulped down its contents completely, cuing Mary to gird herself for more.

“Her confinement was a surprise to Royle, since the prince had not mentioned it to him. But her condition was