They stared at him.

Clarice recovered first. “What is she? Deaf, dumb, blind-or all three?”

That surprised a laugh from him, then he shook his head. “It’s the reverse-she’s too damned insightful for my good. And please do include that in your report-it will make her ladyship’s day. Regardless, an announcement in the Gazette at this point could well prove inimical to our mutual goal.”

All three ladies fixed intrigued gazes on him. He regarded them impassively. “Is there anything else?”

“Who is she?” Letitia demanded. “You can’t just dangle a tale like that before us, and not give us her name.”

“Actually, I can. You don’t need to know.” They’d guess very quickly; he had as much confidence in their intelligence-individually and collectively-as he had in their husbands’.

Three pairs of eyes narrowed; three expressions grew flinty.

Penny informed him, “We’re under orders to remain here-under your feet-until you send a notice to the Gazette.”

Their continued presence might well work in his favor. Their husbands weren’t all that different from him-and Minerva had been starved of the companionship of females she could trust, confide in, and ask for advice. And these three might be disposed to help his cause.

Of course, they’d probably view it as assisting Cupid. Just as long as they succeeded, he didn’t care. “You’re very welcome to stay and join the festivities my sisters have planned.” Rising, he crossed to the bellpull. “I believe my chatelaine, Minerva Chesterton, is presently out, but she should return shortly. Meanwhile I’m sure my staff will make you comfortable.”

All three frowned.

Retford arrived, and he gave orders for their accommodation. They rose, distinctly haughty, and increasingly suspicious.

He ushered them to the door. “I’ll leave you to get settled. No doubt Minerva will look in on you as soon as she returns. I’ll see you at dinner-until then, you must excuse me. Busi ness calls.”

They narrowed their eyes at him, but consented to follow Retford.

Letitia, the last to leave, looked him in the eye. “You know we’ll hound you until you tell us this amazingly insightful lady’s name.”

Unperturbed, he bowed her out; they’d know his lady’s name before he reached the drawing room that evening.

With an irritated “humph!” Letitia went.

Closing the door, he turned back to his desk.

And let his brows rise. Lady Osbaldestone and the other beldames might just have helped.


Returning from her ride, Minerva walked into the front hall to discover a handsome gentleman ambling about admiring the paintings.

He turned at the sound of her boot steps, and smiled charmingly.

“Good morning.” Despite his country-elegant attire, and that smile, she sensed a familiar hardness behind his faзade. “Can I help you?”

He bowed. “Jack Warnefleet, ma’am.”

She glanced around, wondering where Retford was. “Have you just arrived?”

“No.” He smiled again. “I was shown into the library, but I’ve studied all the paintings there. My wife and two of her friends are upstairs, bearding Dal-Wolverstone-in his den.” Hazel eyes twinkled. “I thought I ought to come out here in case a precipitous retreat was in order.”

He’d nearly said Dalziel, which meant he was an acquaintance from Whitehall. She held out her hand. “I’m Miss Chesterton. I act as chatelaine here.”

He bowed over her hand. “Delighted, my dear. I have to admit I have no idea whether we’ll be staying or-” He broke off and looked up the stairs. “Ah-here they are.”

They both turned as three ladies preceded Retford down the stairs. Minerva recognized Letitia and smiled.

Beside her, Jack Warnefleet murmured, “And from their frowns, I suspect we’re staying.”

She didn’t get a chance to ask what he meant; Letitia, seeing her, dispensed with her frown and came hurrying down to embrace her.

“Minerva-just who we need.” Letitia turned as the other two ladies joined them. “I don’t believe you’ve met Lady Clarice, for her sins Lady Warnefleet, wife of this reprobate.” She flicked a hand at Jack, who merely grinned. “And this is Lady Penelope, Countess of Lostwithiel-her husband is Charles, another of Royce’s ex-operatives, as is Jack here.”

Minerva touched hands with the other two ladies. “Welcome to Wolverstone Castle. I gather you’re staying.” She glanced at Retford. “Rooms in the west wing, I think, Retford.” The other guests were mostly in the south and east wings.

“Indeed, ma’am. I’ll have the ladies’ and gentleman’s bags taken up immediately.”

“Thank you.” Linking arms, Letitia leaned close. “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

“Of course.” Minerva glanced at Retford. “If you would bring tea to the duchess’s morning room?”

“At once, ma’am.”

She looked at Jack Warnefleet. “Sir?”

He smiled. “Jack. And I believe I’ll follow the bags and find our room.” He inclined his head to them all. “I’ll catch up with you at luncheon.”

“You’ll hear the gong,” she assured him.

With a salute, he started up the stairs in the wake of two footmen hefting a trunk.

Minerva waved the ladies up, too. “Come up, and we can be comfortable.”

In the duchess’s morning room, they sank onto the sofas, then Retford arrived with a tray. After pouring and handing around the cups and a plate of cakes, Minerva sat back, sipped, caught Letitia’s eye, and raised her brows.

Letitia set down her cup. “The reason we’re here is that the grandes dames have lost patience and are insisting Royce announce his betrothal forthwith.” She grimaced. “Of course, he’s now told us that the lady he’s chosen has yet to accept his suit. Apparently she has reservations, but he refuses to tell us who she is.” She fixed her brilliant hazel gaze on Minerva. “Do you know her name?”

She didn’t know what to say. He’d said he would tell, but he hadn’t. And she hadn’t anticipated such a question, especially from a friend.

A frown started to form in Letitia’s eyes, but it was Clarice who set her cup on her saucer and, staring at Minerva’s face, said, “Aha! ‘She’ is you.” Her brows rose. “Well, well.”

Letitia’s eyes flew wide. She read confirmation in Minerva’s expression, and delight filled her face. “It is you! He’s chosen you. Well! I would never have credited him with so much good sense.”

Head tilted, Penny said, “We’re not wrong, are we? He has asked you to be his bride?”

Minerva grimaced lightly. “Not exactly-not yet-but yes, he wants me to be his duchess.”

Letitia’s frown returned. “Pray excuse me if I’m wrong, but I always sensed that you…well, that you wouldn’t reject his advances.”

Minerva stared at her. “Please tell me I wasn’t that obvious.”

“No, you weren’t-it was just something about the way you paid attention whenever he was mentioned.” Letitia shrugged. “It was probably feeling the same way about Christian that made me notice.”

Minerva felt mildly relieved.

“So,” Clarice asked, “why are you hesitating over accepting his suit?”

Minerva looked from one face to the other. “He’s a Varisey.”

Letitia’s face blanked. “Oh.”

“Ah…” Penny grimaced.

Slowly, Clarice nodded. “I see. Not being a giddy miss with more hair than wit, you want…” She glanced at the other two. “What we’ve all been lucky enough to find.”

Minerva exhaled. “Precisely.” They understood.

After a moment, Penny frowned. “But you haven’t refused him.”

Minerva met Penny’s eyes, then set down her cup and rose; swinging around behind the sofa, she started to pace. “It’s not that simple.” No matter what Hamish thought.

The others watched her, waited.

She needed help; Letitia was an old friend, and they all had marriages based on love-and they’d immediately understood. She halted, briefly closed her eyes. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with him.”

“We rarely do,” Clarice murmured. “It simply happens.”

Opening her eyes, she inclined her head. “So I’ve realized.” She resumed her pacing. “Since he returned, well, he wanted me, and I am twenty-nine. I thought I could be…close to him for just a little while without risking my heart. But I was wrong.”

“Wrong?” Letitia pityingly shook her head. “You’ve been infatuated with Royce Varisey for decades, and you thought you could be with him-by which I assume you mean you’re sharing his bed-and not fall in love with him? My dear Minerva, you weren’t just mistaken.”

“No, I know. I was a fool. But falling in love with him wouldn’t have mattered if he hadn’t decided to make me his duchess.”

Letitia frowned. “When did he decide that?”

“Weeks ago. After the grandes dames saw him in his study. But”-Minerva forced herself to go on-“that’s not the whole of my problem.”

She continued pacing, ordering the elements of her explanation in her mind. “I’ve always been set on a marriage based on love-I’ve had offers before, a good many, and never been tempted. My parents’ marriage was based on love, and I’ve never wanted anything else. At first…I had no idea Royce had his eye on me. I thought I could hide my interest in him, be the dutiful chatelaine, and then leave once his wife took up the reins. Then…he wanted me, and I thought it would be safe enough, given his marriage was imminent. I thought love would need time to grow-but it didn’t.”

Letitia nodded. “It can strike in an instant.”

“So I’d heard, but I never really believed…regardless, once I realized I’d fallen in love with him, I still thought, given his marriage had to occur soon, that I’d be able to leave, if not heart-whole, then at least with dignity. I’ve never been in love before, and if I never was again, no one would know but me.”