Page 38 of Project Duchess
“Exactly. She died long afore I came here, and that’s already been ten years. Though I did hear that he and his duchess was always at odds, on account of his—” As if realizing she was saying too much, she pressed her lips together.
“His what?”
“Don’t wish to speak ill of the dead, sir.”
He smiled. “Trust me, I’ve already figured out that her uncle Armie wasn’t a very nice man.”
She let out a breath. “Well, then, you probably heard about him and his dalliances.”
“Of course,” he lied.
“He wasn’t even circumspect about them, neither. I hear it fairly drove his duchess mad.”
“I’m sure it did.”
“Though they claim you wouldn’t have knowed it to watch her. Like stone, that lady was. Or so I’m told. She let him visit his tarts without saying a word.”
“She didn’t have much choice, I would imagine. But surely he hid his dalliances from Miss Wolfe. She was his niece, after all, and a maiden as well.”
She sniffed. “A man like that don’t hide his true character from nobody, sir.” Then something seemed to dawn on her, and she dropped her gaze. “Not that I was implying anything aboutyou. I didn’t mean . . .” She cast a panicked look behind her toward the kitchens and mumbled, “If that’s all, Your Grace, Cook will surely be needing me.”
Grey stared at her blankly as he tried to figure out what she was hinting at and why she’d turned odd all of a sudden.
Then it dawned on him. Oh, for God’s sake. If she’d heard the gossip about him and his “dissolute cabals,” then in her eyes he was as bad as her former employer. He would undoubtedly have trouble getting anything more out of her. But he’d learned enough for the moment.
“I understand.” He forced a smile. “I don’t want to keep you from your duties.”
Relief crossed her face. “Thank you, Your Grace. And I didn’t mean—”
“I took no offense, I assure you. Now go on with you.”
With a bob of her head, she practically raced in the direction of the kitchen.
Sighing, Grey walked back to the ballroom. What the maid had told him was enlightening. It might explain Thorn’s claim that Beatrice was more worldly wise than Grey thought. She’d have to be in order to deal with her uncle’s peccadilloes.
And it might explain why she became so closed-mouthed whenever he brought up her uncle Armie.
Could she be protecting her brother? Come to think of it, she’d grown nervous again today when the subject of Wolfe had come up. This might all be about her brother. She might actually know what Sheridan already suspected—that Wolfe had murdered her uncle. She might even be complicit in it.
The possibility chilled Grey. Could she really be such a schemer? Could he be so mistaken in her character?
Shehadmanaged to charm the entire family in a matter of weeks. Look at how easily Gwyn had accepted her. And Mother, too. Even Sheridan. Could she have a reason for ingratiating herself with the family?
Withhim?
Grey scowled. If that was her motive, she would be disappointed. She was wrong for him for so many reasons. She wore her heart on her sleeve; he had none. She blurted out her every thought; he held his closer to his chest than his shirt. She was eager to please everyone in her orbit; he was eager to avoid everyone in his.
Yet he couldn’t look away from her as she danced, her movements graceful and her face flushing with enjoyment as she nimbly—
His eyes narrowed. She’d picked up the steps of the minuet with surprising ease for a woman who’d protested she could never learn the steps. She was a puzzle, to be sure, one that he meant to untangle.
And he must do it carefully. Thorn was right about one thing: Unless Grey meant to pursue her, his behavior toward her must be above reproach.
Never again did Grey intend to be that ten-year-old boy who craved love and attention, only to discover that the people who should have offered it—his aunt and uncle—were incapable of anything but using him to advance their own situation. Never again would he give anyone else the power to hurt him.
All the same, when he heard a door open and shut somewhere and realized it could be Thorn coming to join the ladies, he walked swiftly into the ballroom. No way in hell was he going to let his brother be the one to dance with her.
He told himself it was because he needed more of a chance to find out what had her so agitated about her uncle Armie’s death. Needed to be certain she wasn’t nurturing any secret hopes of becoming his duchess.
