Page 65 of The Lady’s Deception

But the noise level in the room had risen tremendously, drowning out any reply she might make: voices and laughter and the clatter of silver and china as one of the footmen set three more places at the table. She hardly noticed when Mr. Remington entered with a letter for the duke.

“Miss Gorse.” Raynham’s voice, though entirely unlike Paris’s, had its own way of slicing through the chaos and commanding attention. She might almost wish that every head in the room had not turned to look when he spoke.

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“A note from Ashborough.” He gestured with the piece of paper in his hand. “As we feared, your brother has arrived in town. It seems he does not know everything, however. He wrote this morning to enquire whether any member of Mr. Burke’s extended family might tell him where you were to be found.”

Rosamund released a shaky breath. “And?” Bell, still standing beside her, gripped her hand. She wanted the answer to that question herself.

“Our next step depends at great deal on you, Miss Gorse. As you may or may not know, Ashborough acquired a vast fortune playing cards. I’m given to understand he’s quite adept at what gamesters call bluffing.”

She could not quite decide whether the Duke of Raynham was making a joke. “Do you mean to say he would lie? For me?”

Raynham gave a single nod. “If you wish it.”

A temporary reprieve, at best. She shook her head. Lies were no way to live. And she could not continue to rely on others. She wanted this matter done, once and for all. “Yesterday, you indicated a willingness to meet with my brother.”

“Of course. I am at your command, Miss Gorse.”

“Write to him, please. Arrange to see him as soon as possible. This afternoon, if it can be done.”

He nodded again. “Setterby will not trouble you after today.” The slightest flick of his hand sent a footman scurrying for pen and ink. “You may entrust the matter entirely to Ashborough and me.”

She lifted her chin and straightened her spine and said in her most governesslike voice, “No.” Last night had given her a taste of her own power. Whatever came of it, she meant to go on making her own choices. She was done running from her brother. “I will be coming with you, Your Grace.”

A chorus of concerned gasps rose around her, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see a flash of red as Erica shook her head. But she kept her gaze focused on the duke. A flicker of surprise—or was it approval?—crossed his otherwise impassive expression and was gone before she could even be sure she what she had seen. He bowed and tossed the letter onto the table. “As you wish.”

* * * *

They arrived at Finch House shortly before one o’clock, a considerably larger party than Rosamund had imagined. Daphne and Bell wished to see their parents; Erica had agreed to accompany them. The Dowager Duchess intended to call on Lady Ashborough, which meant of course that Lady Viviane had come too. And surely Eileen was secreted in the basket dangling from Daphne’s arm. Rosamund knew she ought to take comfort in the fact that everyone, even strangers, had rallied around her in this hour of need.

And she might have, if only everyone had included Paris. Why had he hidden himself away again?

Philpot bowed them in and led them to the same drawing room as the day before. Lord Ashborough rose to greet them. “Making our morning calls, are we? I’m sorry to say that my wife finds herself in some discomfort this morning and has decided to keep to her bed. Her mother is with her now, and Mr. Burke has gone out to fetch the physician. Just in case.”

Despite the lightness of his voice, worry lined his handsome face. Rosamund recalled Bell describing her sister as being “in expectation of a happy event”; never before had she understood how pallid and ridiculous a euphemism it was for the anxiety and anticipation surrounding childbirth.

“I’ll go to her, if I may,” said the Dowager Duchess. “I may be of some assistance.”

Erica announced an impromptu plan to take the girls on a nature walk through the garden at the center of Grosvenor Square. Once she had rummaged through her sister’s escritoire for paper and pencils, and taken Elf’s leash in hand, the four of them—five if one counted the dog, and six if Rosamund’s surmise about the kitten was correct—set out. Rosamund wondered whether the duchess knew what she had in store for herself for the next hour.

Then, of course, only she and Lord Ashborough and the Duke of Raynham remained. “You mustn’t trouble yourself about me,” she insisted to the anxious marquess.

He managed a smile, though it lacked yesterday’s carefree charm. “To be quite honest, Miss Gorse, I welcome the distraction. I fear I might just run mad if left to my own devices.”

For once, he did not seem to be exaggerating for humorous effect.

“All right, then,” said Raynham. “Your brother is due on the hour, Miss Gorse, and his letter suggests that Dashfort will accompany him. We have some thoughts about how to proceed, but what did you have in mind?”

She knew from Daphne and Bell that Raynham was a military officer. For a moment, she considered deferring to his judgment. But she did have one advantage: she knew the enemy they were to face.

“My brother has great disdain for those without power, myself included.”

“He is a bully, you mean.”

“I did not always understand that to be the case.” She nodded. “But yes. And because of it, he likewise has great esteem for gentlemen such as yourselves. He will want you to think him clever.”

“I know the sort, ma’am,” said Lord Ashborough. “They’re easy enough for a player with some skill to pluck.”