Page 103 of The Duke of a Thousand Desires

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Swappingplaces was a game that Rhys and Ravenna had played throughout childhood to confound their nursemaids. The charade had started one morning when Rhys put on one of Aunt Primrose’s wigs to startle his sister. Ravenna took revenge on him when she appeared at supper that evening clad in a pair of his breeches.

Over the years they became adept at trading their traditional roles. Ravenna employed her male disguise to slip from the castle and ride through the woods to her heart’s content.

Rhys assumed Ravenna’s identity in order to tryst with young ladies who would never be allowed to meet a gentleman alone. A carriage ride with a duke’s daughter, however, was a social activity an ambitious parent would encourage. Brother and sister perfected the art of imitating each other.

After Liam’s death, the game lost its appeal. Griffin was a careless guardian, too close in age to meddle more than necessary in his siblings’ affairs. And while time might have diminished the aunts’ physical abilities, it had not dimmed their other faculties. Once Glynnis and Primrose caught on to the double-dealing, Rhys and Ravenna had been compelled to invent more sophisticated forms of trickery.

Until tonight. And why not? It was a night for the young duchess to celebrate. Her husband was unweighted. They could live in love and peace and, if Ravenna’s instincts (as well as Jane’s) could be trusted, then Ravenna was carrying the duke’s heir. The fact that she had missed her courses might not signify a pregnancy. It was too early to consult a midwife, although Jane had offered the services of her personal astrologer.

Ravenna did not crave cucumbers, but as she had admitted to Simon, her always robust appetite had increased, and she wanted to nap at the oddest hours. She covered a yawn behind the plumed hat she was holding. “I was exhausted in the early days of carrying my children,” Jane confessed.

Ravenna was more concerned they could be overheard by the other ladies who had entered the small receiving room to gossip and preen. In fact, one guest was staring at Ravenna and Jane with overt interest. She whispered, “Lately it’s been an Olympian feat to walk from one end of the North Audley Street house to the other.”

“That isn’t like you,” Jane said. “I say yes to your question.”

“Simon would be mortified if he learned of his impending fatherhood from the rumormongers,” Ravenna said softly. “Who is that woman standing in the corner?”

“Oh, dear.” Jane adjusted the crown that served as an accessory to her disguise as Queen Guinevere. Ravenna smiled at the thought of Grayson roaming about the party as the legendary king of Camelot.

“That is Mrs. Watson,” Jane said softly.

“The Audrey Watson. The courtesan?” Ravenna narrowed her eyes as the woman smiled at her in acknowledgment.

“The one,” Jane whispered.

So this was the high-cost society hostess who had given Simon his undignified sobriquet, the informal title that had tainted or perhaps enhanced his reputation. Ravenna squared her shoulders as Jane greeted the woman with gracious enthusiasm -- almost as if Audrey were a family friend.

Ravenna intended to offer no such warmth.

What she did not anticipate, however, was that Mrs. Watson would melt her resentment. In the first place, Audrey looked more like a matron than a procuress. She was costumed as a modest chatelaine, a medieval castle housekeeper in a square-necked dress with a ring of keys hanging at her waist.

“You can imagine what she does to the men imprisoned in her dungeon,” Jane murmured rather disconcertingly in Ravenna’s ear. “Debauched and wonderful deeds.”

“How would you know?” Ravenna wondered aloud.

“I went to her for advice on how to handle Grayson.” Jane smiled at the memory. “He had become, let us say, as devious as me and unapologetic in his pursuit of pleasure.”

“Devious -- you, Jane?” she teased. “And did she help?”

“Immensely,” Jane said. “She gave me the confidence to bind the scoundrel to the bedposts with my stockings to teach him I was not to be played with like a mouse in a lion’s paws. It didn’t take him long to reverse the situation, naturally. But I did make a point. And I enjoyed the lesson.”

They lapsed into silence as Mrs. Watson crossed the room toward them. “Your grace is as captivating as everyone claims,” she said to Ravenna. “No wonder your husband has loved you all his life.”

This was not the opening statement of a rival; still, while it flattered Ravenna, it also implied that Mrs. Watson had extensive knowledge of Simon’s romantic history. Had he confided his secrets in a courtesan? He had been honest in admitting that he had visited the Bruton Street house. But Ravenna never dreamed he had confessed his love for her to another woman.

“How do you know this?” she demanded of Audrey. “Did he tell you?”

“I’m talented at reading men, my dear,” Audrey said. “He didn’t have to say much about you.”

“He talked about me -- in a brothel?”

Jane came to the rescue. “I think Lady Ravenna is a little miffed at you, Audrey.”

“Why?” Audrey asked, her keys rattling. “I have never slept with her husband. I’ve not even kissed the darling man on the cheek.”

Ravenna’s eyes widened.