Page 146 of Ironvine

“It was of no consequence to me,” the Duchess said.

Her husband stroked her cheek, his chest expanding. “It is of great consequence to me, my love.” His voice was even, but something about the low tone sent a chill racing around Charles’s neck.

“Mrs. Treharne wishes to meet with you, Your Grace, to show you what I believe is this last letter written by Hugh in order to extract some sort of favour from you.”

“Money?” he asked.

“Ultimately, but not directly, no. She wants to be rewarded by becoming your mistress.”

The Duke’s only response was the slow arching of an eyebrow.

“It seems she knew your previous mistress and was aware of the great material rewards she enjoyed.”

“And she wishes for such, does she?”

“She does. She’s been left without an income by her late husband, who died in the duel, who she’d poisoned prior to the duel to weaken him. died.

“Both men at her hands?” murmured Georgina.

“And after her and Mr. Penry’s display at your dinner party--”

“Yes.”

“Her brother is adamant that she marry the gentleman, the moment her official mourning time is over. But she does not want him as he is penniless, nor does she wish to marry again.”

“She is desperate.” The Duke’s tongue flicked at his bottom lip for an instant.

“She feels most certain that you would find whatever is in that letter shocking. A betrayal,” continued Charles. “But here’s the rub in our favour—I believe that whatever Hugh wrote to Her Grace in that letter, you already know. Only Mrs. Treharne does not know the kind of trust that lies between you and the Duchess and Hugh. No one does. Everyone assumes … quite the opposite.”

“Yes, they do,” agreed the Duchess.

“The lady is most fervent in her desire to humiliate the Duchess. Furthermore, she is unrelenting in spreading false rumours about me and my brother and my wife, and has threatened to continue to do so if she does not get her way.”

“As you know her well, what do you propose, Ryvves?” asked the Duke.

“I would ask you to meet with her, Your Grace, and take the letter from her.”

“Make her confess to killing Hugh,” said the Duchess.

“And then?” the Duke said. There was a tone of anticipation curling in his words. Two simple words and yet…

Charles met the Duke’s hard gaze with his own. “Then do with her what you will.”

The Duke tilted his head. “Are you quite sure?”

“I am.”

Lifting his chin, Oakley crossed his arms. “What’s in this for you, Ryvves, if I do this?”

“The very same thing Her Grace and yourself desire–justice. I shall be satisfied with the justice that you deliver on the Duchess’s behalf, my brother’s, and my wife’s. I would not wish her in gaol, for the sake of her innocent family, but she must be swept away from our lives before she causes further destruction and harm. I forfeit all to Your Grace’s capable hands.”

The Duke hissed in air at Charles’s words. He had hit a vein. The right vein.

Oakley turned to his wife and stroked her cheek. She covered his hand with hers as his gaze burned over her. “Arrange it, Ryvves.”

“I shall.” Charles bowed his head.

The Duke planted a brief and very sensual kiss on his wife’s mouth.

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