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Authors: Catherine Coulter

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BOOK: The Deception
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“Now, Felicia, come and say pretty things to Madame. The good Lord knows your papa spent a goodly number of groats so that you’d learn how to be a proper
lady. You’ve had more than enough time to practice your seduction skills on the duke. I saw that he wanted to laugh, but he’s fond of you and so he didn’t. It would seem to me that you enjoyed more success with Drew. He, at least, is still smiling. Come along before one of the gentlemen sends you back to the schoolroom or gives you a kiss behind the potted palm, which they would do only to encourage you in your efforts.”

Felicia batted her fair lashes up at Drew Halsey, then toward the duke. “Is it true, your grace? You haven’t fallen in love with me? You’ve just been putting up with me? Oh, goodness, I’ve tried and tried.” Felicia dipped a credible curtsy to Evangeline. “A pleasure, Madame. I hope you will forgive our intrusion, but Godmama insisted that we come to dinner and she insisted that three hours’ warning was certainly more than ample. The duke has a splendid cook, so she knew we wouldn’t starve. And as Lord Pettigrew and Sir John had just arrived to pay us a visit, she volunteered their escort for the evening. His grace, of course, is in an agony of delight at our presence. He’s assured us that he adores surprises.”

Lady Pemberly rolled her eyes. The duke said only, “Just seeing you, Felicia, makes me feel old.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Lord Pettigrew said, but the smile he sent Felicia’s way wasn’t at all that of a disinterested elder.

“Bah,” Felicia said. “Both you and the duke are only twenty-seven, an ancient age for a lady—something I’ve never understood—but for you, gentlemen both, you’re considered barely ripened, barely grown out of your greenness, barely ready to please a lady with your newly matured logic and affection and sincerity. At least that’s what my mama says.”

“Your poor mama could never string that many words together in her life, at least once you were born,” Lady Pemberly said.

“Old,” the duke said again. “Perhaps a cane is the next step in our decline, Drew. Sherry, John? Evangeline? Anyone?”

After the sherry was poured, Lord Pettigrew said in his deep voice, “John, you scoundrel, you gave no hint that you and Madame were already acquainted.”

“As Felicia said, the duke likes surprises,” said Lady Pemberly. “You said you knew her parents, John?”

“Yes, my lady. Her father was an excellent scholar and one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen in my life. Evangeline is the very image of him. I’m sorry, Evangeline. I heard of his death earlier this year.”

Evangeline said nothing, merely nodded toward him. Of course he would know everything to say, know how to keep all of his facts straight.

“When did you last see Evangeline?” the duke asked Edgerton.

“She was all of seventeen years old. And then she married and lost her husband. So much happening in such a short time. Life burdens us, doesn’t it?”

She said absolutely nothing at all. She didn’t want Edmund’s make-believe gun; she wanted one of the duke’s. She wanted it loaded, aimed at John Edgerton’s head.

John said, “I remember it wasn’t the happiest of times. Her mother had died the year before, all the ladies in the neighborhood were after her father, and Evangeline spent most of her time hiding out in the maple forest. I remember that I had to search you out several times when I visited. What did you do there?”

“Nothing much,” Evangeline said, really wanting to say that she’d been avoiding him.

“A maple forest sounds vastly romantic,” Felicia said, took a sip of her sherry, and looked as if she’d like to spit it up.

“Only you would think so,” the duke said.

Felicia said to Evangeline, “As you’ve possibly noticed, the duke enjoys looking at me, but he doesn’t like me to talk. It drives him to the brandy bottle, at least that’s what Godmama tells me.”

“Flutter your eyelashes and keep your tongue behind your teeth,” the duke said easily. “That, my dear, will get you a husband quickly enough.” He shook his head. “Poor fellow, I can just see him the morning after his wedding night. You’ll doubtless be talking a mile a minute, telling him what he did right, going into great detail over what he did wrong, informing him what you want to have fetched up for breakfast.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Felicia said. “I always thought I’d be sound asleep the morning after my wedding night.”

That brought instant and thick silence, until the duke said, “I don’t suppose you also talk in your sleep?”

“I will have my husband tell you after I am married,” she said, and grinned demurely at him, like a wicked little girl, knowing she’d bested him.

“I’m in charge here,” Lady Pemberly said, “and look where things have headed, straight toward the nether regions and other sinful places. Madame, if you’re close enough, box Felicia’s ears. My child, if you say another so impertinent a thing, I will call off your come-out ball.”

“I saw nothing wrong with what she said,” the duke
said. “One hopes, after all, that she doesn’t marry a clod.”

“Then it must be you, your grace,” Felicia said, clasped her hands to her bosom, and heaved. “I’ve heard Mama say you were so expert with the ladies that you were thus a rake, but since you were a duke no one could call you that, except to your back.”

“I’m going to be ill,” the duke said. “I’m not a rake, Felicia. I’m a sober fellow, a solicitous papa, a gracious host. Look at the lot of you. You’re still here, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, my boy,” Lady Pemberly said, “you are all those things. But you will refrain from encouraging her. It’s all well and good that you’re an outrageous, outspoken gentleman who just happens to be very invigorating to look it. Yes, my boy, even I, a mature lady, notice how very nicely you present yourself to the world, whether you’re trying or not. Also, you’ve a bit more of a brain than this impertinent eighteen-year-old baggage whom I got stuck with as a goddaughter.”

“Godmama, I thought you worshiped me from the moment I appeared in the world. I was told that you begged and begged to be my godmother. That isn’t true?”

Lady Pemberly rolled her green witch’s eyes.

Lord Pettigrew said to Evangeline, “Don’t mind them, Madame. It’s been like that since I met the duke when we were boys, more years ago than I care to contemplate. Actually, they’re all very fond of each other.”

“Yes,” she said slowly, taking a sip of her sherry, “I can see that.”

Lord Pettigrew laughed. “Actually, I’ve known Felicia since she was born. I realized soon enough that
she was indestructible. She enjoys being chewed upon. It keeps her sharp, she tells me. It also makes her the center of attention, you know, and that’s a spot she likes to be in.” “You don’t like her, Lord Pettigrew?”

“Oh, no, you misunderstand me,” he said, giving her a dazzling smile. “I actually plan to marry the little twit. I want her to have her Season first. Every girl deserves a Season before she becomes a wife. I’m thinking she will do quite well as a June bride.” He frowned toward the fireplace. “I do wonder what she will say after our wedding night. I wonder if perhaps I should worry.”

“I won’t comment on that. Does Felicia yet know of the happiness that awaits her?”

“A bit of irony there? No, but she will soon enough. Now, I hope you’re not overly fond of conversing over dinner. If you are, I fear that you are in for an exhausting evening.” He paused a moment, then called out, “Felicia, I was just telling Madame here that John and I find ourselves reduced to sign language when we are in your company, for we can’t get a word in edgewise.”

“I don’t believe you, Drew,” Felicia said, and walked quickly back to him. She looked up at him, blue eyes intent and shining, like she knew him better than she knew anyone else in the world, and perhaps she did, Evangeline thought. She poked him in the chest. “I’ve never seen any of this before. What is this sign language? Show me?”

The duke was watching his longtime friend John Edgerton watching Evangeline. Like a hawk looking at a helpless field mouse. What was going on here? What had he been to her when she was only seventeen years old, just a young girl, barely a girl, many years
away from being a woman? Or maybe it was a hawk looking at a female hawk. The duke didn’t understand the look John Edgerton was giving her. But he knew enough to be riled.

“What the devil is wrong with you, my boy?” Lady Pemberly called out. “You look all down in the mouth, a bit of anger mixed with frustration. Ah, I know. You lost a wager. Hah! I’ll just bet it was a wager, over a filly—the two-legged variety.”

The duke laughed, there was no hope for it. He’d find out quickly enough what a role John Edgerton had played in Evangeline’s life. He said to Lady Pemberly, “My dear ma’am, I sincerely doubt there is a man in the kingdom who would wager against me on such an occurrence.” He sent a look toward Evangeline, who was standing by the fireplace looking down into the flames, shut away from the rest of them for a moment. “Or a woman.”

Lord Pettigrew laughed at that. “He’s bested you, ma’am. I wouldn’t bet on that, would you, John?”

“I did hear a bit of talk a while back that the duke lost a lady he wanted to one of his friends—Phillip Mercerault. Is that right, Richard?”

“Yes,” the duke said, “I did. No one likes to be deprived of something he believes he wants, but it was for the best.”

Evangeline was aware of what he’d just said. She realized that she hadn’t heard anyone else; just when he’d spoken, every word was clear to her. A lady turned him down? “No,” she said aloud, her brow thoughtful, all her attention focused on him. “That’s quite impossible. I don’t believe that.” She realized then what she’d said, laughed a bit shrilly, and added, “I fear you’re beginning to sound quite conceited,
your grace.”

She believed that? He was inordinately pleased. “No, Evangeline. I said I did indeed lose her. It was you who insisted that was impossible.”

She flapped her hands in the air, spilling her sherry, which she forgot she was holding, and said, “I’m very hungry. I wonder where dinner is?”

“Come, Richard,” Lady Pemberly said, “you make yourself sound like your heart was dashed into the rocks. Nothing could be further from the truth. Only your pride was hurt, my boy. You know as well as I do that Sabrina Eversleigh did exactly as she was supposed to do. Phillip as well.”

“I would think so,” the duke said. He added to Evangeline. “The lady is an acquaintance who wedded a good friend of mine. Nothing more.” He turned back to his great aunt. “As for you, my lady, your informants would serve Napoleon well. Thank God there’s no more need since the bastard’s incarcerated on his island. Just look at your sources of information. Madame de la Valette arrived only yesterday evening, and here you are, not twenty-four hours later, at Chesleigh for dinner.”

Evangeline wasn’t at all surprised. It was more than likely that John Edgerton was responsible for their being here, not Lady Pemberly. She looked toward the duke, wishing she could apologize to him. For what she’d done. For what she would do to him. For what she wasn’t and would never be.

“I try to do my best,” Lady Pemberly said, and smiled widely, showing several missing teeth in the back of her mouth. She rose, shaking out her stiff purple satin skirts; surely the purple was just what Mrs. Raleigh would appreciate. “I trust that Bassick has seen to laying four more settings. I, for one, am ready for my dinner.”

She turned to bend an autocratic look at Evangeline. “The duke tells me that you wish to remain at Chesleigh as Edmund’s nanny. I was expecting a faded, very bland girl with a tepid temperament and no pretense to beauty. You are not what I expected. At my age, the unexpected could result in my heart stopping, and that is something I wouldn’t like at all.” “Never would we want that,” the duke said. “Now, as to Evangeline, she did arrive a rather sickly-looking mouse sort of lady. Just look at her now. Not even twenty-four hours in my company and she is blossoming, like a, er, daffodil.” He rubbed his fingers over his jaw, clearly a pose. “Isn’t that the yellow, rather stringy flower?”

“I wouldn’t say that Madame is at all stringy,” said Felicia. “On the contrary.”

“I look to you for continued support, Felicia,” Evangeline said.

Lady Pemberly actually snorted. “Support, you say? That’s an uncertain commodity from Miss Loose Lips. I’ll probably be ready for my grave before I find a husband for her, one, preferably, who is deaf. I only brought her, and not one of the available other charming young ladies with me this evening, so the duke wouldn’t accuse me of sticking my nose into his business. However, my nose is already stuck. You are still unwed, Richard. Only one heir won’t do. Pay attention now, my boy. Not another word will pass my lips about your black behavior over the past weeks. Your poor mama is at her wit’s end trying to jolly you out of your mood.”

The duke pulled the bell cord rather viciously, Evangeline thought. What black mood? She remembered then he hadn’t been all that was charming when he’d
come upon her in his library the night before. Had something happened?

She found out quickly enough when Lord Pettigrew said quietly, “I’m sorry, Richard. We still haven’t caught the man who murdered Robbie Faraday. We know there is a spy in the ministry, but as to his identity, there’s still no clue. Who am I trying to fool? There are probably many more than just one spy. It’s driving everyone frantic.”

Evangeline said slowly, “But I don’t understand, Lord Pettigrew. Napoleon isn’t there to torment us anymore. He’s incarcerated on Elba. Why are there still spies?”

She knew that John Edgerton was looking at her, his eyes faintly puzzled. Why? Because she was fishing in waters that could easily drown her? He was afraid she’d turn on him?

Drew Halsey, Lord Pettigrew, smiled at the very beautiful woman who was nearly his height. “Whenever there is more than one man, Madame, there is more than one idea. Once there are two ideas, both fiercely held, then there will be great disagreement. There are still those who want Napoleon returned to the throne of France. There is still a comprehensive spy network working diligently for his return.”

“And one of these spies murdered a man that the duke knows?” “Yes, Robert Faraday was a good friend to us all.” “You, Lord Pettigrew, you work for the government?”

BOOK: The Deception
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