Chapter 14
Meriel managed to avoid the Imposter Duke for the three days leading up to his dinner party.
She had a few scattered conversations about the duke’s brother with several stable hands and grooms, but most were too young to remember.
A boy suggested that the head coachman knew Mr. O’Neill, but Meriel had not been able to find time to interview him.
Stephen’s welfare was more important than her investigating.
She always had to make sure that the boy wasn’t alone with the Imposter Duke.
The day before the dinner party, Nurse Weston took Stephen so that Meriel could go for a walk.
Meriel headed straight for the stables. She had brought tarts from the kitchen on the pretext that Mrs. Theobald had sent them.
Luckily, she found the coachman alone in his coach house office, and she gave him his tart.
He was an older gentleman, still trim, his livery clean and pressed.
After putting aside the harness buckles he was polishing, he grinned and ate half of the tart in one bite.
Meriel smiled at him and began to nibble on her own. “Mrs. Theobald can be very thoughtful,” she said.
He nodded and took another bite.
“You deserve it, after you’ve helped look after Stephen when he wanders the estate.”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
“Were you here when the duke was young?”
He nodded and reached for another tart.
“It must have been even more work for you, what with two curious boys.”
“They weren’t bad, though the duke himself could be a regular mischief-maker.”
Meriel smiled. “I hear he liked to pretend to be his brother.”
“He was good at it, too. Not so much the other way around. Master Richard didn’t like to tease people.”
“Have you seen him lately?”
“In London, on occasion, when the brothers meet.” He sat back and closed his eyes in thought. “Master Richard had the newest carriage when I saw him six months ago. Four horses that put ours to shame, they did. It’s good to see him doing well for himself.”
Meriel gave her excuse of passing out the rest of the tarts and took her leave of the coachman.
So Mr. O’Neill was still wealthy, at least a few months ago. It would be hard to imagine a man losing so much in the brief time since the coachman had seen him. Meriel’s own father had tried to correct his financial fate for years, until it had all fallen apart.
Money didn’t seem to be a strong enough reason for Mr. O’Neill’s masquerade.
Another reason could be the power of the dukedom, but if it were that, Mr. O’Neill must be biding his time, for he hadn’t exercised much power.
What made more sense was that he thought he was a better duke than his brother was, and needed to prove it.
But where was the real duke? Did every second’s delay put him in greater danger?
~oOo~
The next day, the dinner guests started to arrive early in the evening.
Richard moved between the small chatting groups in the drawing room, feeling more and more at ease when no one seemed uneasy or overly curious.
The women wanted to be teased, and he was more than capable of doing that.
The men wanted to laugh, so he had prepared some fictitious London stories guaranteed to make everyone believe he spent much of his time there.
His cousin Sir Charles Irving was the last to arrive.
Richard studied him from the far side of the room, only slightly paying attention to the mama discussing the merits of her marriageable daughter.
Charles was six years older than Richard, but he had kept himself in trim form.
His favorite amusement was hunting, Richard remembered, whether it was fox or grouse.
He rode endless hours in the saddle to keep himself well prepared.
Whenever they’d been together as children, competition was something Charles relished, and winning was the only goal.
His dark hair was gray at the temples, but that didn’t stop other mamas from seeking him out.
Richard wondered why he’d never married.
Maybe he didn’t want to spend his wealth on anyone but himself.
Richard delayed their reacquaintance just enough to annoy Charles. When he finally approached his cousin, he thought Charles’s eyes were narrowed in poorly concealed anger.
“A good evening to you, cousin,” Richard said, oozing too much charm in Cecil’s teasing manner. “I’m glad you could attend my re-entry into hospitable society.”
Charles smiled. “Your illness seems to be a thing of the past, Cecil.”
“I am still a bit fatigued, but I’m resting well at Thanet Court.”
“I’m glad to hear of it. And how is my young cousin, Stephen?”
Was that a deliberate taunt or an innocent inquiry?
“Doing well, thank you. He’ll come down to greet everyone after dinner.”
“I was hoping to see how much he’d grown since I last saw him.”
As if Charles cared about children, Richard thought, remembering the special pleasure his cousin used to take in making other children cry.
Hargraves alerted him that dinner was ready, so Richard led his guests into the dining room. He had seated Charles far enough down the table so that he wouldn’t have to speak to him during the meal.
After dinner, the women waited in the blue drawing room, and Richard made sure the men joined them after only one drink. He was anxious to finish this evening, to see Charles’s reaction to Stephen and be done with it. After a game of charades, he sent for Meriel and Stephen.
The women oohed and aahed over the boy. Richard remained alone near a wall and watched Charles. His cousin barely noticed the boy at all, which was surprising. Charles’s gaze was fixed on Meriel, who had retreated to a window seat.
Charles approached her, and she rose to her feet. At first Richard couldn’t hear what they said. He moved closer, standing just out of their line of sight, in time to hear Charles say, “For only six years old, Stephen is quite accomplished.”
“You are being too kind, Sir Charles,” Meriel said. “I have only been in charge of Lord Ramsgate’s education for two months. But he is a bright, inquisitive boy, and he learns quickly.”
How could it help Charles to put Stephen’s governess at ease?
Unless he wanted easy access to the boy.
A governess would have no influence on whether Charles was named Stephen’s legal guardian, should something happen to Cecil.
But of course, something had already happened to Cecil, and Stephen was vulnerable.
“So you are the duke’s cousin,” Meriel said, a bit too conversationally for a governess.
What was she up to?
Charles nodded. “I see you recognized my name.”
“I’ve studied Lord Ramsgate’s family, so that I can help him understand how everyone is related. Do you have any stories I can share with him about his father and his uncle?”
Richard was too surprised to interfere immediately.
Charles only laughed. “They were both younger than I, so we did not see much of each other. Our parents were not close. I’ll be candid and admit that that was mostly my own mother’s fault. Jealousy was not something she easily overcame.”
“I wonder if that’s a natural feeling between siblings,” Meriel said.
“I wouldn’t know.”
If Meriel was fishing for information, it seemed Charles was not going to take the bait.
Richard approached them. “Charles, I see you’ve met my governess.”
Meriel looked up at him with blank eyes, and he gave her a wide, innocent smile.
Charles saw it and looked between the two of them, but said nothing. Let him think what he would about Meriel and the duke—it was Stephen who was important.
“As usual, Cecil,” Charles said, “you choose the loveliest of women.”
Meriel took a deep breath, but said nothing, though her subtle anger was palpable.
“She was well qualified for the position,” Richard said.
A mistake, for Charles’s eyebrows rose. “I was not suggesting otherwise,” he said.
Richard decided to change the subject. “I assume your estate is flourishing, as usual.”
Meriel excused herself to return to her window seat.
“Do you remember that property I’d bought from Richard eight years ago?” Charles asked.
Richard nodded politely, but inside he tried to imagine every reason that Charles could be mentioning such a random thing.
“Of course you remember it, Cecil,” Charles continued. “You were the one who forced Richard to sell his inheritance.”
“You can’t believe everything my brother says,” Richard said dismissively.
“When you took his inheritance money, what else could he do but sell the land to begin investing?”
“Richard and I have gotten past that misunderstanding, Charles. You don’t need to bring it up.”
“You asked me how my estate was doing. That property I purchased from Richard has become a profitable farm since then. My tenants’ harvest has exceeded my expectations year after year.”
Richard smiled. “You always had a way with money.”
“And you don’t,” Charles said bluntly. “You could use my help.”
“To what are you referring?”
“You haven’t made the wisest investments, Cecil. Good heavens, your clothing expenditures alone would feed a nation.”
Richard laughed and clinked his glass with Charles’s. “You can stop worrying about me, cousin. I’ve gone to my brother for advice.”
Charles looked surprised. “Have you, Cecil?”
“I will admit I still have much to learn. That’s why I’m here, taking control of my estates. We all grow up eventually.”
“Ah, but not as far as your female servants are concerned, dear Cecil,” Charles said. “Still choosing them all for their beauty—though I now realize that you don’t want to say so in front of them. I regret the error with your governess. Have you chosen your latest mistress yet?”
Richard resisted the urge to sigh. He had thought flirting and debating his choice might work, but of course people outside the household wouldn’t see that. They’d only see that the duke was not choosing a mistress.
“Charles, there are so many lovely women to choose from.”
“I know. You even hired one away from me a few months ago,” Charles said, shaking his head in a rueful manner. “You can be quite devious.”