Chapter Twenty #3
“Oh, my dear, it’s far more delicious than cream.” Ashley accepted the cup with a conspiratorial smile. “I’ve just come from Farah’s, where I learned the most astonishing piece of information that simply couldn’t wait.”
Courtney’s heart skipped. “About Lockwood?” she asked, lowering her voice despite the empty house.
“No, though Rockwell is making progress there,” Ashley assured her. “This is about your Lucien and his quest to find the mysterious Kitty.”
“He’s found her already?” Courtney set down her cup with a small clatter. “But it’s barely nine in the morning. How could he possibly—”
“That’s just it,” Ashley interrupted, eyes dancing with mischief. “He didn’t have to search very far. It seems your Kitty, the woman who knew Ava in Dublin, is none other than the Duke of Blackstone’s mistress!”
Courtney laughed. “Mistresses are not unusual for men of his standing. He’s still young, about nine and twenty, isn’t he? Still sowing his wild oats. Except I’ve never known the duke to be wild about anything. He’s so staid and proper.”
“Exactly! That’s why I think Blackstone having a mistress is very amusing,” Ashley confirmed with obvious relish. “Our stern, proper, never-a-hair-out-of-place duke is keeping a former low-class lady of the night in a small but elegant house in Chelsea.”
Courtney couldn’t reconcile the image of the austere, imposing duke—known throughout society for his rigid adherence to propriety and his barely concealed disdain for scandal—with a man who would keep a former brothel worker as his mistress.
“There may be an innocent explanation,” she protested. “He may be trying to help her leave the profession.”
Ashley’s laugh tinkled through the room. “The very same man who once gave Julian a twenty-minute lecture on the impropriety of loosening his cravat at White’s after midnight, helping a lowly Irish prostitute. Not likely.”
“You dislike him. Or are you protesting too much?” Courtney shook her head in disbelief.
“Rubbish,” Ashley stuttered. “He’s a hypocrite.
The same duke who refused to attend the Smythsons’ garden party because their daughter had been seen riding in an open carriage with her fiancé without a proper chaperone?
” Ashley said, helping herself to a biscuit.
“According to Rockwell, who seemed rather amused by the whole thing, Lucien called on His Grace at an ungodly hour this morning. After explaining the situation, the duke apparently went quite pale and admitted that Kitty has been under his protection since he met her at Cyprian’s masked ball. ”
Courtney sat back. “Does Farah know? He was so strict with her.”
“She does now,” Ashley replied with a laugh. “You should have seen her face when Rockwell told us. I thought she might faint from the shock. She kept saying, ‘My brother? My Raven?’ as if there might be another Duke of Blackstone lurking about London.”
Courtney couldn’t help but join in her friend’s laughter, the absurdity of the situation momentarily distracting her from her own troubles. “The man who sits in judgment of us all has been the greatest hypocrite in London.”
“It does rather put his treatment of my family in a new light,” Ashley remarked, her smile dimming slightly. “He’s barely acknowledged my existence since my scandal broke three years ago. I really loathe the man.”
Courtney reached across to squeeze her friend’s hand.
She couldn’t say anything because Ashley had never shared the details of her scandal with the sisterhood.
“How insufferable. To think, he’s looked down his aristocratic nose at you all this time, while keeping a former brothel worker as his mistress. ”
“In a very nice house in Chelsea, no less,” Ashley added with a rueful smile. “Apparently, he’s quite devoted to her. Rockwell says the duke has been teaching her to read and has engaged tutors to instruct her in proper speech and deportment.”
“Good heavens,” Courtney murmured. “It sounds as if he’s quite smitten.”
“Besotted, according to Rockwell.” Ashley’s eyes twinkled. “Can you imagine the Duke of Blackstone in love? The man whose expression never changes, even during the most scandalous on-dits at Almack’s?”
“The mind boggles,” Courtney agreed, trying to picture the stern duke’s face softening with affection. “Though I suppose it explains why he’s refused every eligible young lady presented to him these past seasons.”
“Including Lady Harriet Pembroke, and she’s quite the diamond,” Ashley noted. “Her father was furious when the duke showed not the slightest interest.”
Courtney sipped her tea, contemplating this revelation. “I wonder what this Kitty is like, to have captured such a formidable heart.”
“Rockwell says she’s quite lovely—red-haired and vivacious—but more importantly, Lucien believes she’ll help us. Apparently, Mrs. Bellamy told Lucien that she feels terribly guilty about revealing Ava’s secret to Lockwood. She had no idea he intended to use the information for blackmail.”
“Will she testify against him if necessary?” Courtney asked, hope rising in her chest.
“That’s what Lucien and the duke have gone to determine.” Ashley gave her a reassuring smile. “Kitty seems eager to make amends. And with the duke’s support…”
“It seems almost too good to be true,” Courtney murmured. “Of course, Blackstone may not want this information made public. It would tarnish his image.”
Ashley nearly choked on her tea with laughter. “Can you imagine? The look on Lady Jersey’s face alone would be worth the scandal of revealing the information.”
“I loathe scandal, but after his treatment of you and Farah, he does need taking down a peg or two,” Courtney added, warming to the jest. “Plus, it might distract him from our investment challenge. I really want Tiffany to beat him.”
“Oh, he would definitely glower,” Ashley agreed. “He has at least seven different varieties of glower that I’ve cataloged over the years. My favorite is the one where his left eyebrow barely rises while his mouth turns down precisely three millimeters at the corner.”
Ashley demonstrated the expression, causing Courtney to dissolve into giggles.
“I received that exact glower when I had the audacity to suggest that his opinion on female education might be somewhat archaic,” Courtney recalled, smiling at the memory.
“I believe he told me that ‘young ladies should concern themselves with accomplishments suited to their delicate constitutions.’”
“While teaching his mistress to read and hiring tutors for her,” Ashley added wryly. “The hypocrisy is simply breathtaking.”
“Perhaps there’s hope for him yet,” Courtney mused. “If he can care so deeply for someone society would deem unsuitable, maybe his rigid exterior hides a more compassionate heart than we’ve given him credit for.”
“Or perhaps he simply fell in love despite himself,” Ashley suggested. “The heart doesn’t always follow the dictates of propriety, after all.”
The observation sobered Courtney, reminding her of her own situation. “No, it certainly doesn’t.”
Ashley reached across to touch her hand. “How are you truly, Courtney? This terrible business with Lockwood—”
“I’m better now that Lucien knows everything,” Courtney admitted. “We spoke last night. He came to me after Mrs. Bellamy revealed Lockwood’s scheme.”
“He came to you? At night?” Ashley’s eyebrows rose suggestively. “How very…improper of him.”
Courtney felt her cheeks warm. “Yes, well, desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“And did these desperate measures include a reconciliation?” Ashley teased gently.
“We…reached an understanding,” Courtney replied, unable to keep a small smile from her lips. “He told me everything about Ava, about his time in Ireland. No more secrets between us.”
“I’m glad,” Ashley said sincerely. “You deserve happiness, Courtney, after all you’ve endured these past years.”
“If we can survive Lockwood’s scheme,” Courtney reminded her, glancing at the clock on the mantel. “Lucien and I have a plan for tonight’s ball, but much depends on what he learns from Kitty today.”
“Do you think Lockwood suspects anything?” Ashley asked, her expression growing serious.
“I’m not certain,” Courtney admitted. “He seemed so confident when he issued his ultimatum. I can only hope he believes I’m too frightened to defy him.”
“The man is a snake,” Ashley declared with uncharacteristic vehemence. “To threaten you and that innocent child—”
A sudden crash of breaking glass interrupted her words. Both women whirled toward the terrace doors where three figures stood amid the shattered remains of the French doors—Baron Lockwood flanked by two rough-looking men Courtney had never seen before.
“Ladies,” Lockwood drawled, brushing glass fragments from his immaculate coat sleeve. “I do apologize for the dramatic entrance, but I find myself requiring Lady Courtney’s immediate company.”
Courtney rose to her feet, her heart hammering against her ribs. “Baron Lockwood, have you lost your mind? Breaking into my father’s home in broad daylight—”
“A necessary expediency,” he interrupted, advancing into the room.
His pale eyes held none of the false charm he’d displayed during their previous encounter—only cold calculation.
“I’ve learned that Lord Furoe has been making inquiries this morning.
Inquiries that suggest you may have betrayed our arrangement. ”
Ashley stepped between them, her chin lifted defiantly. “You will leave immediately, sir, or I shall scream the house down.”
One of Lockwood’s companions—a burly man with a scar bisecting his left eyebrow—smiled unpleasantly. “Scream all you like, my lady. The servants are otherwise engaged in the kitchen. A small fire broke out just minutes ago. Most unfortunate timing.”
Ice slid down Courtney’s spine as she realized the depth of Lockwood’s planning. “What do you want?” she demanded, though she already knew the answer.