Chapter Two
I cannot believe that you allowed me to flirt with a bloody viscount!” Hannah Wick skewered her maternal cousin, Lady Charlotte, with her best glare.
And Hannah was an absolute champion at glowering. After all, her ability to convey authority and outrage with her eyes was an extremely valuable asset when it came to dealing with unruly customers at the Black Sheep Coffeehouse, which Hannah ran with Charlotte and her paternal cousin, Sophia.
Unlike most, Charlotte didn’t squirm under Hannah’s gaze as the three proprietresses washed dishes together in the back room of their establishment.
However, the noblewoman may have permitted a single, demure swallow.
Hannah couldn’t be entirely sure. Charlotte was always the picture of polite poise, the inverse of Hannah’s own rough-and-tumble presence.
“Well, given the particular circumstances at the time, it seemed most prudent—” Charlotte began to say in that gracious, kind way of hers. When Hannah had first reunited with her estranged relative, Charlotte’s demeanor had grated, but now Hannah had grown rather fond of her.
Sophia broke in to the conversation. “What Charlotte is trying to delicately say is that it wasn’t the time to be dramatic.”
“Dramatic! DRA-MA-TIC!” Hannah hung on to the last word, fully aware and not caring that she was proving Sophia’s point.
“Why shouldn’t I be dramatic over this? He’s not just any ordinary viscount, is he?
And it’s not even that he’s next in line for a dukedom.
He will be Foxglen—the FOX-GLEN—someday. ”
Sophia reached out and patted Hannah’s arm. “But even then, he won’t be the duke who stole farmland from our grandparents and then sent our starving fathers to the Colonies when they were caught poaching. That is the current Foxglen’s sin, not Malbarry’s.”
“Pfft.” Hannah barely stopped herself from slamming down the ceramic coffee cup that she’d been cleaning. “Any member of the Aucourte family is a nemesis of ours by default.”
Sophia rolled her eyes as she gently disentangled the breakable piece from Hannah’s grip and began to dry it. “We are the daughters of pirates. If we engaged in blood feuds, we’d have nothing but enemies. There is a reason that our investigations have always centered primarily on Foxglen.”
“What do you mean, your investigations?” Charlotte asked as she stacked the earthenware neatly on the shelves behind the serving counter.
“Something is fishy about the Aucourtes,” Hannah said.
“For over a decade, there’s been rumors of illicit dealings.
Papa wanted to pursue the whispers, but my mother and Aunt Mary talked him out of his revenge.
They didn’t want to bring scrutiny upon the coffeehouse.
” The establishment was originally a meeting place for London outcasts, including reformers, ex-prisoners, and folks rescued from slavery and indentured servitude by Sophia’s mother, who was known on the high seas as Brave Mary.
“And now I’ve gone and drawn attention to the Black Sheep by opening the back room,” Charlotte sighed. The hidden space for men and women from all social strata to mingle had conversely become one of the most gossiped about locales in London.
Sophia waved her dishtowel dismissively. “The coffeehouse isn’t in the same precarious financial position that it was when Hannah’s parents first established it. Besides, your strategy increased business by twofold.”
“Your plan has truly been a boon, Charlotte,” Hannah agreed.
Originally, she hadn’t been keen on her noble cousin’s suggestion, but the back room had become a lively enterprise that brought in a great deal of coin—money that Hannah was more than willing to spend on loosening lips when it came to the Aucourtes.
“But do you really suspect that Foxglen is committing crimes?” Charlotte asked. “He’s notoriously obsessed with obeying every letter of the law.”
Hannah squeezed the cup she was washing with enough force to send the earthenware shooting through the suds as it slipped from her soapy grasp.
“His funds are nothing but ill-gotten gains from enclosing the land that my father’s ancestors tilled for generations.
Bloody sheep feasting on grass where wheat and turnips should be growing.
Foxglen might act all high and mighty, but he’s just a well-dressed thief. ”
“B-u-u-u-t,” Sophia said, hanging on to the word, “despite his greediness, we have doubts over whether he’s the architect behind whatever is causing the whispers.
That’s another reason why my mother didn’t think it would be fruitful to chase down the rumors.
It’s always been more likely that Foxglen’s sons are involved. ”
“Hmmmm,” Charlotte said thoughtfully as she turned from arranging the earthenware.
“That does make sense. It’s widely known in Society that Foxglen maintains a tight rein over his sons’ allowances.
Too many drunken scandals. They’re forced to reside wherever the duke does.
Neither is known for their morals, so it wouldn’t surprise me if they’d gotten involved in some vile business. ”
“Do you know any other rumors about the family?” Hannah asked eagerly. She’d been meaning to question Charlotte, but they’d been too enmeshed in other mysteries.
“Not really—at least not the sort that you’re interested in,” Charlotte admitted.
“His daughters are widowed and don’t attend many events since their husbands both died in disgraced financial ruin.
The duke, himself, is in poor health and rarely attends social gatherings.
His sole grandchild is Malbarry, who’s known as the duke’s shadow.
You rarely see one without the other, and people say talking to the viscount is exactly like speaking with the duke. They hold the same views.”
“Ugh.” Hannah resisted the urge to smash the saucer that she was currently cleaning. “How could I even flirt with such a creature? What happened to my good sense?”
“If it is any consolation, you most assuredly disrupted his.” A slightly impish expression had fallen over Charlotte’s normally serene countenance. Hannah had been spying more and more such looks from her cousin. Normally, she liked the sight but not today.
“His what?” Hannah asked rather waspishly, even though she knew exactly what her cousin meant.
“His good sense,” Charlotte clarified. “He has the reputation for being utterly and thoroughly staid, but you made him blush.”
A spurt of warmth shot through Hannah, and her heart started squeezing like a laundry mangle. Ruthlessly, she stamped down on the unwanted excitement. “Are you insinuating that I am a corruptive force?”
Charlotte did not even have the grace to look abashed. “You know I didn’t mean anything disparaging, and you cannot deny that you had a powerful effect on the man. He bowed. To. A. Parrot.”
That bit of whimsy had charmed Hannah—and blast Malbarry for beguiling her.
An heir to a dukedom had no right to possess such an impressive array of muscles.
His height and broad shoulders were entirely lost on a man who never had to do a lick of physical labor.
In his rough attire, he’d looked exactly like a prizefighter…
and precisely the type of man who appealed to Hannah.
But it turned out he was just a damn nob in a laborer’s linsey-woolsey.
“I do not wish to speak of it anymore,” Hannah said tartly. “May we please return to the original conversation?”
The teasing glint immediately vanished from Charlotte’s grass-green eyes as she obliged Hannah’s request. “What have you learned about the Aucourtes from your own inquiries?”
Hannah sighed, but the expulsion of air did little to alleviate the frustrations building inside her. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“Every so often, we ask our contacts in the stews if they’ve heard a new rumor, but nothing is ever reported,” Sophia explained further.
“Perhaps because there is nothing to discover?” Charlotte said softly, but her understanding tone didn’t feel like a balm to Hannah. It only aggravated her.
“No.” Hannah released the mug she was washing into the tub and slammed her fist into her other palm. “The Aucourtes are hiding something. I feel it in my bones.”
Sophia gave her a friendly nudge with her hip. “I didn’t know your bones were prophetic.”
Hannah delivered another one of her best glares, this time in Sophia’s direction. Her cousin ignored the look entirely as she dried off a saucer and handed it to Charlotte.
“I am not soothsaying,” Hannah said defensively. “Don’t you find it suspicious that there is not a single murmur about the Aucourtes—not even about what brothels the men visit?”
“I doubt Malbarry ever visited one,” Charlotte piped up. “He’s much too somber and pious.”
“But his uncles surely have,” Hannah countered. She did not believe that Malbarry was particularly saintly, but she did not want to think of him engaging in that. Because if she did try to picture him, then she’d imagine his muscles on full display, his biceps extending as he held his body above…
Bloody hell!
“My point,” Hannah practically shouted, her voice so loud that it startled Sophia into almost dropping a dish.
When Hannah spoke again, she lowered the volume considerably.
“My point is that the very lack of noise indicates that there is a great deal of clatter that a powerful person is suppressing.”
“As much as I teased Hannah, I do agree with her reasoning,” Sophia said. “Rumors about the Aucourtes are too hushed.”
“Hmmm,” Charlotte said thoughtfully as she nestled a cup inside another. “Perhaps instead of investigating the Aucourtes in the back alleys, you should try the ballroom. With their public scandals, they have little clout left to stop gossip there.”
“It is not as if Sophia and I can just don a gown and stroll into a nob’s house,” Hannah grumpily pointed out.
“My brother and I would be happy to collect rumors,” Charlotte said.