Chapter 14 #2
“But I offer them so much, Charles.” Richard shrugged and donned an innocent smile. “They just can’t help themselves. Now if you’ll excuse me, Miss Barome obviously needs my assistance.”
Meriel sat very quietly, withdrawn within her window seat, and watched with worry as the Imposter Duke left Sir Charles. She could see Miss Barome waving at Mr. O’Neill from across the room as she searched through sheet music at the piano.
Stephen was happily occupied with the wolfhounds, who were behaving themselves for the guests and performing their tricks on Stephen’s command.
Meriel could see Sir Charles’s profile. He still watched the man he thought was the duke, and though his face held no expression, the glacial coldness of his eyes chilled even her.
What was she to make of everything she’d overheard? Her own questions to Sir Charles had yielded nothing, but it was obvious that there was rancor between Sir Charles and—both the duke and his brother? It was difficult to tell, for Mr. O’Neill was a superb actor.
Sir Charles knew about the mistresses—maybe every man knew, and in the way of men, thought nothing of it. Meriel considered Mr. O’Neill’s reaction, and she wondered how he felt, being forced to choose a mistress. Maybe his claim of indecision was actual…reluctance?
She didn’t want to think well of him, and of course there could be many reasons he did not choose a maid to seduce. He probably just didn’t have the time, what with keeping his dark secret.
What was most shocking to her was that the real duke had cheated Mr. O’Neill out of some of his inheritance.
That was a strong motive for Mr. O’Neill to seek revenge, or even to take the money back.
But if it was only money, he could have obtained that easily by now, with his access to the accounts.
Sir Charles had hinted that the duke had financial problems. Maybe there wasn’t enough actual currency for Mr. O’Neill to take.
If his inheritance was what he wanted, then perhaps he found himself overseeing the dukedom to correct its finances.
After all, maybe it was true that the real duke had come to his brother for help—and gotten himself kidnapped for his effort.
All the while she was thinking, Meriel kept a close eye on Stephen.
The Imposter Duke had previously sent word that Stephen was not to wander the house alone while they had guests.
Did that mean he thought she would lose the boy, and embarrass the duke?
Or was this for Stephen’s safety? If only she knew what Mr. O’Neill had in mind for his nephew.
She looked around for Sir Charles and found him conversing in a corner with several gentlemen, local landowners all. He was the closest family member Stephen had. Should she confide her worries to him?
But Sir Charles had come between the brothers. He’d deliberately bought property from the illegitimate son, and made sure to throw it back in the face of the duke, even years later.
No, she couldn’t trust him either. In his zeal against the duke—maybe he was jealous, just like his mother—he might go directly to the police. The element of surprise would be lost.
No, she was still in this alone.
~oOo~
When the dinner party was over, and the last guest—Renee—had gone home, Richard was approached by Hargraves, who wished to speak with him alone.
In Richard’s study with the door closed, the butler’s usual remote expression gave way to worry. “Your Grace, you wanted to know if Sir Charles did anything suspicious during the evening.”
“Did he?”
“Yes. While you were occupied singing with Miss Barome, Sir Charles left the drawing room.”
Richard sat back in his chair and swore. “Where did he go?”
“Since I had servants stationed all over the house, no one ever lost sight of him. I did have to tell everyone that you were worried about a thief, of course.”
“Yes, yes,” Richard said impatiently. “But what did Sir Charles do?”
“Nothing, Your Grace. He simply walked from room to room and…looked.”
“Looked?”
“He studied portraits and sculptures, almost as if he’d never seen them before.”
“As if he was cataloguing what was still here,” Richard said softly. “He might believe that Cecil was selling things off to support his vices.”
Hargraves could only shrug.
“And he was in sight of someone for the entire evening?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Very well. Thank you, Hargraves.”
When the butler had gone, Richard stared unseeingly at his desk. What was Charles up to?
~oOo~
After a sleepless night revising his plans, Richard sent for Mrs. Theobald.
When she arrived in his room, looking concerned by such an unusual summons, Richard put a finger to his lips and closed the door, summoning her near the window.
“Mrs. Theobald, I need your help,” he said in a soft voice. “My plan to flirt with the maids is not working.”
“I know, young sir,” she said, glancing worriedly at the door. “They’re beginning to fight over you, keeping the servants’ wing in an uproar with their arguing. And I hear from the head coachman that the grooms are grumbling over their betting.”
Richard closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry. This is not fair to you.”
“You learned nothing from Sir Charles last night?”
“Nothing much. He is a cunning man. But when even he asked me about my mistress, I knew something had to change. I’ve decided to choose one.”
Her eyes widened as she searched his face. “You’ll…do such a thing, young sir?”
“Not really, of course, but I can pretend. And the only one who’ll fight me is Miss Shelby.”
“Oh, sir, she’ll be terribly angry. She insisted I inform you she’ll never be your—the duke’s—mistress.”
“Then that’s perfect, isn’t it? I don’t want a real mistress. She can refuse me all she wants, and it will look like for the first time a woman has said no. And of course I won’t give up my pursuit.”
“A woman did say no once, young sir, and the duke respected her wishes. Miss Shelby knows this.”
“Ah, but I’m smitten this time, Mrs. Theobald. I’ll continue to pursue Miss Shelby, in hopes that I’ll be rewarded.”
She frowned.
“I mean that’s what the duke would hope,” Richard quickly said. “I personally know she’s too proud to ever give in.”
“But won’t it seem like you would eventually give up, as you did the last time?”
Now it was his turn to frown. “Hopefully it won’t come to that. But I have no choice. I have to stop the maids from fighting, and I have to be the duke. So today I need you to prepare a picnic lunch. I’m going to begin wooing the object of my affections.”