Leah shoved to her feet. “Pardon me, madam, but you are grossly mistaken. I was invited to live with the incredibly generous Lady Chesterfield, and she has no problem with my past. I would hope that such a beloved relative would trust the baroness’s judgment.” Leah let her nostrils flare slightly as she looked down at Miss Stapleton. With her raised chin and solemn glare, she was sure she resembled an avenging monarch.
“How dare you imply that I do not trust my sister?” Miss Stapleton hissed. “You are a charlatan. I knew it.”
Lady Chesterfield sat forward and held up a calming hand. “Now, now, dearest sister, you misunderstand. Miss Ramsey is from a society much removed from ours. She bears no ill will toward me or you. I have seen to it.”
Leah eased back down onto the sofa, not losing the firm set to her chin. She kept silent. As much as she disliked the deception, she knew it was necessary. She hadn’t wanted to cause problems within Lady Chesterfield’s family. Damn it, this was more complicated than she’d thought it would be.
Lady Chesterfield handed her a cup of tea, and Leah sipped it slowly. More drinking, less talking. That would be her motto for the rest of Miss Stapleton’s visit.
Lady Chesterfield smiled winningly. “Now, I have asked you to come and to meet Miss Ramsey because we are preparing for her come-out.”
“Come-out?” Miss Stapleton held her cup of tea out for Lady Chesterfield to refill. “She is of rather an advanced age for a debutante, is she not?”
Leah gritted her teeth together so hard she feared they’d crack.
“Sister, look at her complexion. She is as beautiful as any young miss in their first season. With her figure and my clever Muriel’s coiffures, no one shall ever guess that she is past the first bloom of her youth.”
So she was both a swindler and old now? This little trip wasn’t doing a helluva lot for her ego.
“Well, if this is the course you are set upon, far be it from me to dissuade you. Do you have any gentlemen in mind for the chit? Mr. Rutledge, perhaps, or Sir Thomas Edwards?” Miss Stapleton brought her teacup to her lips.
Lady Chesterfield bounced in excitement, fluttering her feathers like a duck drying itself. “She is destined for a man much greater than that. None will do for our Miss Ramsey but the esteemed Duke of Granville himself.”
Leah didn’t know whether to laugh at Miss Stapleton’s near-perfect spit-take or to be even more depressed.
“The Duke of Granville?” Miss Stapleton’s hand shook as she set down her teacup and began daubing at the droplets on her gown with a plain handkerchief.
“Of course.” Lady Chesterfield laughed. “Miss Ramsey is more than capable of capturing his attention.”
“It is not that,” Miss Stapleton said, giving up on her gown. “It is only”—she darted her glance back and forth as if afraid someone would hear them—“he is of such an advanced age. He has his heir, and though he may wish to marry again, I had rather thought, well…” She trailed off.
“Thought what?” Damn it, Leah hadn’t meant to say anything.
Miss Stapleton didn’t bother to look Leah’s way, keeping her gaze trained on her sister as she replied. “He might be searching for a different sort of woman. One with more experience in society, perhaps. The dowager duchess is rumored to be very demanding.”
Leah opened her mouth to reply, but Lady Chesterfield waved her hand dismissively.
“Rubbish. Utter and complete rubbish. He is a gentleman, not a child, and as such will make a perfect mate for our Miss Ramsey. Now, dear sister, have you spoken with Lady Oberlin of late?”
The sisters began chatting about people Leah didn’t know while the tea grew cold in her cup.
Their age difference was pretty damn obvious. But she’d thought that wouldn’t matter as much in this day and age. Had she been wrong? Miss Stapleton had stared pretty hard at her sister when she’d said that. Did Miss Stapleton have designs on the duke? An elderly spinster probably didn’t have many prospects in this time. Too bad eHarmony didn’t have a Regency England branch.
Leah stared into the patterned carpet, the rich colors seeming to swirl under her gaze. If Lady Chesterfield helped Leah with the duke, then found out later that her own sister had wanted him, would she resent Leah for stealing Miss Stapleton’s chance at happiness? Or did Miss Stapleton mean she thought Lady Chesterfield would be more suited to the duke? They had to be pretty close in age. But how could she abandon the possibility without even getting to know him? So he was older. That wasn’t a deal breaker, right?
With a heavy sigh, Leah lifted the cup to her lips and took a swig of cool tea. She grimaced at the taste. What a complicated trip this was turning out to be. She really wished she had a friend to talk to—someone who understood her or at least knew her a little better than Lady Chesterfield or Muriel.
Someone like…
She bit her lip. Maybe she’d go calling once the less-than-pleasant Miss Stapleton had gone.
He’d won the match, but if he weren’t careful, he’d lose his life. Prachett’s threat was not an idle one. Avery had seen other fighters defy the man before, and the results were never pleasant. But what choice had he had?
None at all.
Beside the coachman atop the carriage, Avery huddled in his coat as they wound through damp and dank streets toward Grosvenor Square. The rain and cold might be miserable, but they were infinitely preferable to remaining at the Houndstooth and facing Prachett again.
Fortunately, the duke was not interested in the other matches and had opted to leave before the crowds. His Grace had been curiously silent, not congratulating his valet on the victory. Any other victory would have had the duke clapping him on the shoulder, cheering like a lad. But today? Not a word had left his lips. Yet another worry to be added to Avery’s lot.
Avery shifted in the seat and winced as his muscles cried out in protest. It didn’t matter that he was battered and bruised. He had won, and he must plan now for a way to avoid Prachett’s anger. His aunt could not go without medicine. He’d bear what he must in order to protect his only family. He pulled his coat tighter against him as if it could keep out the coming trouble as well as the downpour.
The carriage pulled to a halt in front of Granville House. The coachman leaped down and opened the door for Granville while Avery clambered down slowly and painfully.
“Russell.” The duke spoke without looking Avery’s way. “You will attend me immediately.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Shivering with cold, wet to the bone, Avery hung his sodden coat by the front door. Smythe, who had taken the duke’s hat and cloak, cast a glance over at him. Avery thought he may have detected the slightest hint of curiosity in the older man’s gaze before the butler turned and walked away. As his footsteps echoed down the long hallway, Avery’s thoughts turned to Miss Ramsey.
How was she faring with the curious Lady Chesterfield? Had she made her debut during the week he’d been gone? Was she being accepted, or was she shunned because of her lack of connections?
The longing in his chest intensified as he entered the duke’s study. Wherever she was, whomever she loved, he wished her every happiness in the world. It was best that she’d gone. When Prachett caught up with Avery, he hoped that Leah would be miles, or years, away.
“Close the door behind you, Russell.” Lord Granville settled into the chair behind his large desk, primly tenting his fingers.
Avery obeyed. The soft click of the latch felt like the gates of hell closing him in. Swallowing hard and setting his jaw, Avery turned and stood tall while facing his employer.
The duke didn’t say anything for several long moments. His keen gaze raked Avery from the top of his head to the toes of his boots, missing nothing. The swelling and bruising on his body would go down in a few days, but
