Page 6 of A Duke in Disguise
“Puts the milk in first—”
“So ought I to run off with the vicar or the canon?”
Nate burst out laughing, and when Ash glanced over at Verity, he saw that she was trying to suppress a smile but making a very poor fist of it. “I hope you’re both amused with yourselves,” she said shaking her head. “Utter children.”
“What would you advise that letter writer?” Ash asked. “In your theoretical problem page.”
“The situation you put before me is nonsense,” Verity insisted.
“No it isn’t,” Ash and Nate answered at once.
“It’s bigamy eight times out of ten,” Nate added.
“The other two times are people whose servants have stolen either the silver or their employers’ hearts,” Ash added.
“I suppose it mainly depends on whether her husband married her or the Barnstaple woman first,” Verity mused. “If the Barnstaple woman is his lawful wife, then the letter writer is well shot of him and can run off with as many clerics as she pleases. But if she’s the lawful wife, she and the Barnstaple woman ought to join forces to have him sent to Australia.”
“Prosecuted for bigamy and then transported, you mean?” Ash asked.
“Indeed not. I was thinking they could simply have him press-ganged or taken by pirates. Barnstaple is close enough to Cornwall, and my understanding is that piracy is still an ongoing concern in those parts.”
Both men tilted their heads and regarded her. “Just out of curiosity, how often would you advise women with errant husbands to have their spouses abducted by pirates?” Nate asked.
“I’d have to look into the costs. Right now it occurs to me that one might arrange one’s obnoxious brother to be taken away. Might be worth a few pounds, especially if you keep bringing strangers to eat my mutton chops.”
“They weren’t strangers!”
“Portia says we’re not to have Amelia here anymore, because it won’t do for a young lady to be an accessory before the fact.”
“An accessory before what fact?” Nate asked.
“Sedition,” Ash and Verity said at once with equal measures of exasperation.
“But I like Amelia,” Nate said petulantly, as if referring to a favorite pet mouse. “Devilish clever girl.”
“Yes, well, try to like her enough not to get her into any trouble. Oh, Ash, I have something for you. Well, it isn’t for you, strictly speaking, but I think it might interest you.” She began rifling through the stack of magazines and assorted papers on her desk. “Aha! Here it is.”
He took the letter from her outstretched hand. It was fine linen paper, much finer than anything Ash usually encountered, the sort he had forgotten even existed. Even the sealing wax looked a cut above the usual. The writing was an even, legible, feminine hand.
“The general thrust of the letter is that a lady botanist needs someone to draw her specimens,” Verity said.
At the top of the page was a family crest and a Cavendish Square address. The signature was of a Lady Caroline Talbot. “No,” Ash said. “I’m not earning my bread by drawing the hothouse flowers of some lady dilettante.”
“But you’ll draw the gowns they wear,” Verity pointed out.
“I do those for one of your rival publishers, not for the leisured classes.”
“Look, it’s an opportunity to take money from the rich, without having to compromise your morals. I thought it might interest you, because, well, you’re certainly not going to be doing any drawings for theRegister.” She said this so matter-of-factly, as if it hadn’t pained him to realize illustrating theRegisterwas no longer a risk he could take. “I just thought this would be a way for you to branch out a bit. She’ll probably pay better than I do.”
“She could hardly pay worse,” Nate remarked from where he still stood in the doorway.
“Nathaniel,” Verity said bracingly, “if you want to pay our writers and illustrators better, consider doing something that will turn a profit without getting your colleagues sent to prison. For heaven’s sake.”
Nate threw his hands up in surrender and left them alone.
“Is he deluded?” Verity asked. “Or is he deliberately trying to drive me mad?”
“I think he has different priorities than you,” Ash said carefully, conscious that he could not take sides between them without toppling the three-legged stool that was their friendship.
