Page 75 of Miss Desirable
Casriel, who weathered familial storms with heroic calm, posed the obvious question. “Why send a man to France?”
Fournier examined his brandy with exquisite calm. “To gather information of a socially damning nature about Miss Fairchild. Need I explain?”
The three Dorning brothers exchanged looks, but for once, Kettering grasped the significance. “The ladies have noted that Miss Fairchild left Rome more than a year before she and her mother returned to London. One suspects the explanation for that gap lies in France.”
“The explanation,” Fournier said, nosing his drink, “is thriving in France, about two days’ journey from my château in Bordeaux. Lord Armbruster has been kept in ignorance of the full consequences of his dishonor toward Miss Fairchild. His spies recently alerted him to the need to investigate, and he has both the means and motivation to do so.”
“Thriving?” Casriel asked.
Fournier nodded. “No expense has been spared.”
Sycamore riffled the cards into a neat stack. “Blood will tell.”
Ash hit him on the arm.
“Well, Catherine’s a Dorning,” Sycamore retorted, “as plain as the eyes in my head, and Dornings are prone to vigorous animal spirits.”
“Sycamore,hush.” Kettering, Ash, and Casriel spoke in unison.
Fournier smiled, and damned if he wasn’t devilishly dashing when plotting an English lordling’s comeuppance. “I must leave for France immediately to see the child to safety, and I come bearing orders for you from Miss Fairchild.”
“Thought you’d never get around to it,” Sycamore said. “We’re ready, willing, and able to assist, as are the ladies.”
“To ruin Armbruster is not sufficient,” Fournier said. “For me to marry Miss Fairchild, as lovely as that prospect is, will also not be enough. To ensure the child’s safety, while necessary, is also not the limit of my ambitions.”
“You aren’t ambitious,” Casriel said. “You are demented.”
“I am determined.” Fournier handed out assignments, sketched possibilities, and rehearsed scenarios for the next hour.
“We will use only the weapons Armbruster has turned on Miss Fairchild,” he said in conclusion. “Guile, gossip, spies, and good manners.”
Kettering was happiest when managing complicated financial schemes, and this scheme pleased him not at all.
“You want to bring him down by a thousand cuts,” he said. “That plan will take monumental patience and not a little luck.”
“Is Miss Fairchild supportive of this approach?” Casriel asked. “You were heard having a very loud discussion with her in her own garden not three days past.”
“That altercation was for the benefit of her staff. The undergroom and very likely the housekeeper spy upon Miss Fairchild for Armbruster. They present themselves as aunt and nephew, but they are, in fact, mother and son. Armbruster somehow knows of this and uses the information to ensure the loyalty of his minions.”
“How is it you know of this?” Kettering asked.
“I have formed an alliance with the former butler, and he conveyed the intelligence in a note yesterday. He assumed Miss Fairchild was aware of the situation, but realized her mother had never confirmed that. Miss Fairchild will convincingly appear to become interested in Armbruster again and receptive to his charms. His spies will confirm his dearest aspirations.”
“Remind me again,” Ash Dorning said, “how we defeated the Corsican?”
Fournier set down his empty glass. “You made sure Napoleon had no sleep for nearly a week, and thus he forgot his own military advice.”
Sycamore poured another scant finger of brandy into Fournier’s glass. “What advice would that be?”
“Never allow your forces to become too scattered. Keep your reserves close by, not miles away on the eve of battle.”
“And off you go to France?” Kettering muttered. “How is that following Napoleon’s proven strategies? A thousand things could go wrong with this plan of yours.”
“First, the plan is not merely mine. Miss Fairchild’s imprimatur is on every detail, else I should not be here explaining those details to you. Second, I am bringing a thousand Dornings and their connections to bear on the situation. If matters go awry, you must set them right.”
Sycamore looked puzzled. “You are trusting us?”
“Catherine is, and trusting your womenfolk. She does not trust her own staff or her solicitors, who also happen to be Lord Armbruster’s men of business. See that you do not disappoint her.”
