It would have to do.
“One slight problem.” Rose walked to the windows, then turned around to look at everyone. “We have to get him here, right? Even he is not stupid enough to just walk into the Duke’s garden and confront him, even if he’s invited by a note written in gold leaf on the Duke’s private stationery in the Duke’s own hand.”
“Do you have private stationery?” Ivy glanced at her husband.
He rolled his eyes.
“Good point” said Ragnor. “Yes, we do need to lure him here or all this will be for nothing.”
“So let’s use Miss Ringwood.” Rose spread her hands wide. “She’s our—conduit, if you will, to Barrett.”
Ivy thought about it. “She’s quite skittish now, though. She would guess we’re not exactly rolling out a welcoming mat for either her or her fiancé.”
“She has an ego too,” commented Judith. “And a desire to be see with the right people. If we perhaps offer an olive branch. Tell her we’re rather sorry for the way we behaved, and would like to make amends…”
“Oh,” blinked Lydia. “Better yet…what about an invitation to privately view the new garden? Before Prudence’s formal birthday?”
“I like that. It would definitely appeal both to her and probably Barrett too. We’d have to time it right,” mused Ivy. “If Prudence agrees, we could send out the invitations to the actual event early, then after everyone has one, ask Miss Ringwood if she’d agree to tea and an early preview.”
“She’s clearly eager for social status,” observed Rose. “I think she’d jump at the chance to be beforehand with the rest of the Ton…”
“Not to mention being able to flaunt a personal invitation from her Grace…” Rose’s eyes drifted to Ivy.
“Well, of course that would do the trick.” Ivy rolled her eyes.
“I am not sure about all this,” said the Duke, “because it does fall far beyond my area of expertise. But if you ladies believe this would be a successful way to lure Miss Ringwood, and thus Barrett, here into the garden, then you have my support.”
“And I’m positive that Prudence will approve as well,” said Lydia. “So that settles it.” She looked at Ivy. “Dates? Times?”
Ivy’s mind turned over the situation. “Prudence’s birthday is this coming Saturday. What if we extend the invitation to Miss Ringwood at the Wednesday Club?”
“Do you think she’ll come, after what happened last time?”
“She will if Lady Maud invites her,” declared Ivy. “But that means we will have to take the Sydenhams into our confidence.”
“I doubt any of us has an objection to that,” Judith offered. “They’ve been our staunch supporters for so long now, they’re family as far as we’re concerned.”
“That’s it, then.” Ivy looked at her friends. “We will alert Sir Laurence and Lady Maud. Miss Ringwood will attend the Wednesday Club, where she’ll be personally and warmly invited to take tea and enjoy a private preview of the new town garden at Hartsmere House on Friday.”
“Which she will mention to her fiancé, who will then recognise his chance to gain information about if not access to the Duke,” continued Rose. “I wonder if he might believe it to be his chance to finish what he started. After all, we’ve told the town that his Grace is still unwell.”
“Interesting point,” said Mowbray. “We can’t know what his state of mind might be, but I’ll wager he would never miss the opportunity to actually be invited over the threshold of what he considers to be his enemy’s territory.”
“He’s in for a surprise,” commented Ivy with a curling lip. “There won’t be a Duke lying helpless on the ground, waiting for a knife in the back. Not this time.”
“Instead, the Duke will be able to engage Barrett in conversation, which will be overheard by all of us. With luck he’ll admit his role in spreading nefarious rumours about his Grace.” Judith raised her chin and smiled. “We’ll have him. Rolled up foot and guns.”
“Whereupon I shall shoot him.” Lydia’s grin made them all laugh.
“I do appreciate the thought, my dear,” said the Duke gently. “But try not to. The mess in our new garden would be quite appalling.”
“You’re right, and I apologise, your Grace.” Lydia dipped a little curtsey. “I shall merely wound him in an unimportant spot on his body. Like his head.”
Miles shrugged. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, but to be honest, most of us would be quite happy to put a ball in him, your Grace. So you might want to have a mop and bucket handy, just in case.”
“At least if I shoot him I won’t have to pluck him,” muttered Mowbray.
The room rapidly deteriorated into a surprising number of well-dressed members of the Ton howling with laughter.
It was a good way to end the afternoon. Ivy came to that realisation as she ushered them all back into the parlour for tea. Laughter, the pleasure derived from such pleasant company…regardless of the topic at hand, there was always room for a smile.
She was going to keep that thought uppermost in her mind for the next few days. Otherwise she might decide that kidnapping her husband and whisking him off to Jamaica would be the best course of action for all concerned.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ivy fidgeted, aware that Hartsmere House felt as if it was on tenterhooks.
The invitations to Miss Prudence Hartsmere-Drake’s forthcoming garden party had been delivered on Tuesday, and the response had been overwhelming. Of the thirty-five guests invited, forty had already accepted. Which puzzled Prudence.
“I’m not quite sure how this happened,” she said as she sat in front of a pile of responses and counted them once again.
“Everyone wants to be here,” answered Ivy. “So although we only invited Lady Celchester, for example, her daughter and her sister have also accepted, since
