Page 88 of My Own True Duchess
“You’ll give it, nonetheless.”
“Solve the trouble with Mrs. Haviland first. Even with her husband’s debts paid off, her circumstances cannot be comfortable. I sold everything the man owned, Tresham. Boots, pipes, nearly three dozen pistols, some of which were quite valuable, all save one in pristine condition. Rings, sleeve buttons, hats, even his night shirts. Perhaps the widow didn’t want painful reminders, but I suspect her objective was simply to pay the trades before talk could ensue.”
“I hate that Theodosia was put in such circumstances.”
Anselm left off admiring himself. “She apparently hates more that you own a gaming hell. Peers own illegal ventures, but yours is shamefully successful. Perhaps the club failing is the best thing that could happen to you.”
“I’m not a peer.”
Anselm patted Jonathan’s shoulder and sauntered toward the door. “Cling to that fig leaf while you can. I’m off to relieve a few earls of their arrogance. We peers benefit from regular set-downs, or so my duchess claims.”
He went smiling on his way, while Jonathan stared into the parlor’s gloomiest corner. Something Anselm had said… something about…
“They’re all peers,” Jonathan said softly. “The losers, the men whose luck never holds good for long, they’re all peers. Lipscomb, Henries… Every time the stakes rise, it’s never a banker, a mercer, or a half-pay officer with the most to lose. She’s out to ruin the peers—and to ruin me.”
* * *
“Theodosia, you are pacing. Ladies don’t pace.” Bea offered that great insight as Theo made another circuit of her ladyship’s music room.
“Ladies don’t cry off when they’ve secured the affections of a ducal heir.” When they’d fallen in love with such a man and could not stop rethinking their last conversation with him, or the lovemaking that had preceded it.
Bea added a collection of airs to the stack of music accumulating on the piano bench. “Apparently, some ladies do. Who knew so much repertoire had been written for the harp?”
“I didn’t know you played.”
An imposing great harp stood near the windows, the instrument’s pillar carved with leaves and flowers.
“I don’t. That is Aunt Freddy’s harp, or one of them. Casriel restrung it and tuned it for her. I’m keeping it until she returns from taking the waters at Bath. You could send Tresham a note telling him you’ve had second thoughts.”
Theo took the free end of the piano bench. “No, I cannot. Did you know he owns The Coventry?”
Bea hoisted the stack of music and set it on the piano. “One isn’t supposed to know such things. One can suspect. I’m not surprised.”
Her ladyship was dressed to receive callers today, her hair coiled into a neat chignon, her gown a modest ensemble in a flattering shade of pale blue.
“Why doesn’t one know such things?” Theo asked. “Had I known…”
“Would you have done anything different?”
“I would have decamped for Hampshire posthaste rather than involve myself with the owner of a gambling club.” Theo was nearly certain she’d have been wise enough to do that, for Jonathan’s lovemaking was as heady an intoxicant as any hand of cards had ever been for poor Archie.
Bea took the place beside Theo and pushed the cover off the keyboard. “Instead, you’re breaking off an engagement and then turning tail for Hampshire. How can you abide the thought of relying on Penweather’s charity?”
Theo pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and began dusting the highest octaves.
“Mr. Tresham wrote to the viscount to notify him of our situation.”
“Of your impending engagement—that’s now quits.”
“Mr. Tresham never actually proposed. In any case, his letter must have gone into some detail about my circumstances, because Penweather wrote to me and extended an effusive apology for what he called a grievous misunderstanding.”
Theo passed Bea the handkerchief to use on the lower octaves.
“Why do peers never simply admit they’ve wronged somebody?” Bea asked. “Why is the explanation always a misunderstanding or confusion, or—my favorite—a misconstruction on the part of somebody else?”
“Penweather was purposely misinformed. Archie told him I would want for nothing in widowhood. I had a competence and an inheritance, after all. The solicitors were forbidden to discuss my situation with Penweather, which was an insult to his lordship and also Archie’s doing.”
“Penweather told you this?”
