The Lady In Question (15 page)

“I was afraid of that,” the duke said soberly. “The man who could give the opposition the means to form a new government would indeed be welcome to play a significant role in it. Had Wilmont ever expressed any political ambitions to you?”

“Not that I can recall.” Tony chose his words carefully. “I have given this a great deal of thought, sir, and I suspect marriage might well change a man, even a man like Wilmont. I can see no logical explanation why he would have married your niece unless his affections were engaged. And if we are dealing with emotions rather than logic” — Tony shook his head — “there is no predicting what may happen next.”

“Do you think my niece is in danger?”

“Not from Wilmont, sir,” Tony said staunchly. “I am confident if he were alive, he would have let us know by now. I would now, and have in the past, trust him with my life and would now wager my life that he is dead.”

The duke studied him for a long moment. “You would rather believe him dead than disloyal?”

“I would rather not think him as either, sir, but yes.”

“I see.” The duke thought for a moment. “Then you think the danger to my niece stems from whatever was in this notebook Wilmont possessed?”

“I’m afraid so, sir.”

“But you have no idea where it is or what it contains?”

“No, sir.”

“For someone whose job is the gathering of information, you don’t seem to know a great deal,” His Grace said sharply.

“No, sir.”

“I don’t like this, any of it.” The duke paced the room. “I don’t like her having married this man who may or may not be dead. I don’t like you living in her house as her butler or anything else. I don’t like using her to lure whoever is looking for this notebook, obviously the same people who might well have killed her husband, if indeed he is dead. And I don’t like this entire deception surrounding her.”

“Sir.” Tony stood. “I have suggested to Lord Kimberly that we tell Lady Wilmont everything. That we enlist her assistance.”

The duke stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Do you know nothing at all about women, St. Stephens?”

“I daresay I know —”

“I doubt that. Do you honestly propose to tell my niece her husband was an agent of the British government who courted her as part of a plan to uncover the traitorous secrets of her father or her uncles?”

“When you put it that way, sir, it doesn’t sound —”

“And furthermore inform her that her butler is not an aged, doddering old man —”

Tony grimaced. “You know about the disguise then, too, sir.”

“I know everything there is to know about this,” he snapped. “Or at least as much as you do.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And then the final blow will be to tell her her life might well be in danger because of a blasted notebook whose contents and whereabouts are unknown.” The duke snorted in disdain. “You think this will provoke her cooperation?”

“Perhaps not.” Of course not. Had Tony completely taken leave of his senses where Delia was concerned? Certainly the woman was nice, but such a revelation would push even the nicest of females beyond a point of reason.

“Beyond that, she is an Effington female born and bred. They are a stubborn lot, opinionated and prone to do exactly as they please.” He drained the rest of his glass. “I don’t know what madness possesses the men in this family, but not one of us has seen fit to wed a pleasant, biddable woman. It’s the challenge, I suspect. An ongoing game, if you will, of evenly matched opponents.” A reluctant smile quirked the corners of his lips. “There is nothing like it. Nonetheless” — his amusement vanished — “my niece will not take any of this well, and you know who will bear the brunt of her wrath, don’t you?”

“You, sir?” Tony said hopefully.

The duke stared for a moment, then burst into laughter. “Most amusing, St. Stephens. Best laugh I’ve had in a long while.” He sniffed back a chuckle. “My niece will not know that I have had even the slightest involvement in all of this, nor will anyone else in my family. No one is aware of my connection to the department, including my wife, my son and my brothers, and they never will. My wife thinks I am simply exceptionally knowledgeable. You, St. Stephens, are now one of a select few who do know of my work.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “You do understand what I’m saying?”

It wasn’t exactly a threat, but it was closer than Tony would ever like to come. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“My niece will not be told anything for the time being. You will continue in your position as her butler, but the department will arrange for additional staff, all our people, of course. I want this blasted notebook found and whoever is searching for it apprehended.” The duke met Tony’s gaze directly. “I too would prefer to think Wilmont dead than a traitor, but if he is alive, I want him caught as well.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Understand that I am not pleased with these arrangements. I think your charade is as absurd as Wilmont’s original plan. However, I can think of nothing better at the moment. When one is deeply mired in the muck of an untenable situation, one can do nothing more than to struggle onward. And understand as well, St. Stephens, I hold you personally responsible for Lady Wilmont’s safety.”

“I already hold myself responsible.”

“You do realize if anyone learns of your true identity, her reputation will be shattered.”

“Beg pardon, Your Grace, but isn’t that redundant? Hasn’t her reputation already been thoroughly shattered?”

“Has it?” He frowned. “I thought I had heard something about a love match. Reforming a rake, and all that. Quite romantic and tragic, I believe.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Regardless of the past, she will not be able to recover if it becomes known that the Viscount St. Stephens, under whatever guise, had resided in a house alone with her. I do not wish her to be the subject of scandal yet again. I assume, therefore, should it indeed become known, you will do the honorable thing.”

“The honorable thing, sir?”

The duke lifted his glass. A smug smile curved his lips and an odd gleam shone in his eye, as much wicked amusement as warning. “Welcome, my boy, to the game.”

Chapter 8

“I don’t believe I have ever felt quite so awkward in my life,” Delia said out of the corner of her mouth, keeping a pleasant smile affixed firmly on her face. “Everyone is staring at me.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Cassie said, wearing the exact same smile. “Not everyone.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have come,” Delia murmured. It had taken all of Delia’s determination to don the gown Cassie and her grandmother had ordered for her and to appear at the dowager’s ball. The black lace dress was modest but not overly so. Indeed, when she had looked in the mirror, she’d looked very much like, well, a woman of experience. Even the stark color didn’t make her appear quite as ghostly as usual. However, now that she was in public for the first time, she wasn’t entirely certain she had the courage required to start down that path to experience, beginning with the flouting of convention. It took all she had in her not to turn and flee from the room this very minute.

“Nonsense, my child, this is your family’s home and you have every right to be here,” her grandmother said firmly.

“I doubt that sentiment is widespread, Grandmother. I am officially still in mourning, with a husband dead barely half a year.”

“It’s not as if you are dancing on his grave. In truth, you have been a widow far longer than you were a wife. No one expects you to be a recluse as well.” Her grandmother smiled in a smug manner.

“Besides, no one here or in London either, I suspect, would dare to question the propriety of your presence as long as I have given it my blessing, as indeed I have. Your period of mourning is not at an end, but in my home, the only rules that matter are my own.

“Besides, I have often thought the rules of mourning we drape about ourselves were instituted by men simply to make certain their wives do not do them in.”

“Grandmother!” Cassie’s eyes were wide with stunned amusement. “I can’t believe you would say such a thing.”

“Have I shocked you, Cassandra? Excellent.” Grandmother chuckled. “I quite like shocking young people. It makes me feel young. Or perhaps it simply makes me feel clever, which is every bit as nice. Now then, what was I saying?”

“Something about women doing in their husbands,” Delia said weakly.

“Indeed.” Grandmother nodded. “I think no woman in her right mind would eliminate a husband knowing she would be forced to wear black — not everyone wears it well, you know — and avoid any sort of enjoyable activity for a full year.”

“Looking dreadful would certainly dissuade me from killing a husband,” Cassie murmured.

“And I am certain somewhere there is a man who rests easier with that knowledge.” Grandmother nodded toward the dancers on the floor. “Why aren’t you dancing, Cassandra? You should be enjoying yourself rather than keeping us company.”

“I would be dancing if I had the chance.” Delia tried and failed to hide the wistful note in her voice. If she were truly intent on grand adventures and any scandalous behavior that might entail, dancing while still in mourning would be insignificant. Perhaps she wasn’t cut out for a life of adventure after all.

“But I quite enjoy keeping you company, Grandmother.” Cassie bent and brushed a kiss across her grandmother’s cheek. “You have a way of looking at the world that is always most interesting.”

“Indeed I do. And it is the reward for living as long as I have that I can say exactly what I think. It is the greatest, if not the only, benefit of advanced age.”

“You may well be the youngest person I know.” Delia cast her grandmother an affectionate smile.

“In spirit, my dear, I may well be.”

“And for that, the rest of us are eternally grateful,” Delia said. “However, I believe my own spirit has had more than enough for one night and I think I shall take my leave.”

“It is far too early for you to beg off from your first foray back into society, Philadelphia,” her grandmother said mildly. “Has your courage run out so soon?”

“Yes.” Delia shrugged. “It is more difficult than I imagined to pretend life is as it has always been.”

“It’s wearing black that does it.” Cassie’s gaze skimmed over her sister. “Although that dress does become you more than anything else I’ve seen you wear, the color still does not suit you.”

“She would look lovely in the color you’re wearing, Cassandra.” Grandmother looked at Cassie.

“Don’t you think so?”

“Indeed, I do,” Cassie said firmly.

Cassie’s gown was a delicate green, the color of warm, shallow seas and cut in the first stare of fashion. The fabric seemed to shimmer with a life of its own. Delia sighed. “Perhaps someday.”

“If you’ll excuse us, Grandmother, I think I shall accompany my sister to our rooms,” Cassie said in an offhand manner. “I have just this minute remembered something I wished to show her.”

“And do you plan on returning?” Grandmother asked.

Cassie answered without pause. “Most certainly. There is a great deal of the evening left and I have not yet had my fill. Why, there are any number of gentlemen here who have yet to ask me to dance.” She grinned and her dimple flashed. “I would hate for their evening to be a disappointment.”

“As would we all.” Grandmother’s assessing gaze shifted from Cassie to Delia and back.

“I shall bid you good night, then.” Delia bent to kiss her grandmother’s cheek and whispered in her ear. “Thank you for everything.”

“My dear child, I wish I could do more. But perhaps your sister…” Grandmother glanced at Cassie, who smiled in a too-innocent manner. The older woman pointedly looked away. “I refuse to condone or condemn tonight.”

“What on earth does that mean?” Delia drew her brows together in confusion.

“Never mind.” Grandmother waved them off. “Go on now and sleep well.”

The sisters murmured their farewells and made their way to the entry, nodding a greeting here, casting a smile of acknowledgment there. They left the ballroom and started up the stairs.

“What, exactly, do you wish to show me?” Delia slanted a glance at her sister.

“Patience, dear sister.” Cassie smiled a secret smile that never boded well. She refused to say another word until they were in her room, with the door closed firmly behind them.

“Now.” Delia crossed her arms over her chest. “What did you wish to show me?”

“Just this.” Cassie waved at the bed and grinned.

Delia took a step toward the bed and caught her breath. She stared in disbelief. “What is this?”

“This” — Cassie carefully picked up the gown of shimmering, delicate, sea-foam-green, an exact copy of the one she wore — “is for you.”

“What exactly do you mean?” Delia said slowly.

“You know full well exactly what I mean.”

Delia shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly.

“Oh” — Cassie held out the gown enticingly — “but you could.”

“I would never —”

“Oh, but you will.” Cassie moved closer as if offering a forbidden treat. Delia reached out and tentatively touched the delicate fabric, soft and silken beneath her fingers. “It’s definitely not black and I am still expected to wear black…”

“But I’m not.” Cassie’s voice was seductive.

Delia’s gaze shot to her sister. “It would be something of an adventure, wouldn’t it?

Cassie nodded. “And didn’t you tell me that you wanted to live a life of grand adventure?”

“Yes, of course, but…” Delia’s gaze drifted back to the gown. The blasted thing was calling her.

“No one would know, Delia.”

“Even so…” Beckoning her.

“I shall stay right here until you return.” With her sister’s voice. “What would be —”

“Cassie.”

“No, wait.” Cassie’s brow furrowed. “I shall slip into the library instead. That way, if you encounter any problems —”