Page 25 of The Secret of Flirting
Until Gregory remembered her reaction to him. “See here, Hart, if you don’t think I’m right about this, check her out for yourself. I understand that she’ll be touring Westminster Abbey tomorrow. See if you can get close enough to observe her, and then tell me your own impressions. I gather that you saw her in theater productions more times than I. You ought to be able to judge if it’s her.”
Hart settled back to fold his hands over his belly. “And if I think it is? What then?”
“See what you can learn from the servants at the town house we rented for them. We provided their staff, who will undoubtedly be more inclined to side with a countryman than with the strangers from Chanay. Anything you find out is better than what I know now, which is virtually nothing. All I have is my conviction that Mademoiselle Servais is impersonating Princess Aurore. I just can’t figure out why. If you can do so, I will pay you well.”
“All right. I’ll see what I can learn.” Hart shuffled the cards, then handed them to Gregory to deal. “Another game?”
“It depends. Have you seen Danworth here this evening?”
“I believe so. He was in the reading room having a spirited discussion about politics with some gentleman. But that was a while ago.”
“I need to speak to him, so I’ll have to leave you at present. But if you want to hang about until later...”
“Sorry, old chap, I’d rather saunter down to that new tavern in Covent Garden. The taproom maids are supposed to be particularly free with their favors, if you’d like to join me once you’re done.”
“Afraid not.” He’d spent enough time in such places in his youth to know that they held more danger than pleasure, especially for a man with ambition. If he wanted a woman at the ready, he’d take a discreet mistress, as he’d done in the past.
But even those days were behind him. His political career required that he have a wife, so in future he’d be limiting his encounters with the fairer sex to eligible females. He drew the line at a marriage where he had to sneak around behind his wife’s back. He wouldn’t give his enemies any opportunity to turn his prospective wife against him, which meant no infidelities.
Not that he was looking for love or anything mad like that. But he wanted a comfortable, amiable match. A pity that he hadn’t yet found a single eligible woman who struck his fancy.
Monique’s mocking gaze came into his mind, and he scowled. She might strike his fancy, but she wasnoteligible. He could no more marry an actress than he could a laundrywoman. Which was a damned shame.
God, what was he thinking? He’d never want to marry a woman so devious anyway, even if shedidhave a luscious mouth.
“Enjoy yourself,” he told Hart. “I’m sure you can find someone else here who’d join you at the tavern to dandle a taproom maid on his knee.”
“Warren used to go with me, but now—”
“Delia would have his ballocks if he did.”
“She’s got his ballocks already,” Hart grumbled. “Probably keeps them in a jar on her dressing table.”
Gregory laughed. “Watch it, man. You’re starting to sound peevish. Are you perhaps a little jealous of your brother’s wedded bliss?”
“Jealous! Never.” A flush rose over his cheeks. “I mean, Delia is pretty and all, but I have no intention of getting myself tangled in any one woman’s apron strings. I prefer a more varied diet.”
“Then you’d best steer clear of her for a while. The most determined matchmakers are always sisters-in-law.” Although thankfully, now that his own was absorbed in planning her own marriage, he’d gained a reprieve. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you about Mademoiselle Servais.”
After walking through the club, Gregory found Danworth sitting alone in the reading room. Apparently the man’s companion had left. “Danworth! Just the fellow I was looking for.”
Danworth eyed him warily. “If this is about that bill you were hoping the prime minister would champion—”
“No, no, nothing like that.” Gregory took a seat. “I’m just curious about your impressions of the Chanay party.”
“Ah. I see.” Danworth furrowed his brow, obviously gathering his thoughts before he spoke.
He was cautious that way. The third son of a squire, Danworth was one of those men who’d managed to insinuate himself into the highest echelons of society by being circumspect. He knew how to say the right things, dress the right way, and court the right connections, but without being a toady.
Aware of how much work that required, Gregory admired the man for doing it so effortlessly. He’d always suspected that Danworth’s intelligence ran deeper than anyone realized. How else could the fellow have gained the prime minister’s loyalty for so long?
Gregory drummed his fingers on his knee. “I saw that you had quite a long and involved conversation with Lady Ursula. Had you met her before?”
“No. But she was most gracious in answering my questions about Chanay and the princess.”
“What kind of questions? Is the prime minister taking a personal interest in the Belgium affair? Because the last time I spoke with him, he seemed to be willing to leave things up to the foreign secretary. Which, in this case, means leaving it up tometo negotiate.”
Danworth blinked, then appeared to be considering the question. How odd. Gregory hadn’t thought it a question that required lengthy reflection.
