Angeline thought that Mrs. Quimby could not fail to notice the d.u.c.h.ess's chilly reply.

"Oh, to be sure," Mrs. Quimby said, "but one cannot help noticing great beauty. I wondered if you had an opinion of her looks."

The d.u.c.h.ess lowered her embroidery. "I do not."

Angeline was certain her mother's curt reply would quell the woman.

"It is a shame that Lord Brentmoor lost his esteemed father, and of course, his grief must have been large," Mrs. Quimby continued, "but a fortune will always be welcome, to be sure." She laughed.

Angeline thought the woman exceedingly vulgar.

Margaret turned her attention to Mrs. Quimby. "Allow me to pour you another dish of tea."

"That is so kind of you, but I'm not thirsty. Lady Angeline, you did not say whether or not you had met Lord and Lady Brentmoor?"

Unfortunately, the reverend's wife was not the sort of woman who sensed undercurrents in conversations. Again, Angeline chose to ignore the question.

Margaret rose. "d.u.c.h.ess, let me bring you another cup of tea."

Angeline noticed her mother's lips were drawn tightly. Poor Mama to have to suffer Mrs. Quimby's prattle about Brentmoor.

Mrs. Quimby continued, undeterred. "Lady Angeline, I believe you did not hear my question about Lord and Lady Brentmoor."

Angeline smoothed out her embroidery. "Mrs. Quimby, the persons you mentioned are not friends of mine."

"Oh, well, I'm sure Baron Overton would be glad to make the introductions-"

Margaret approached Mrs. Quimby. "Unfortunately, Baron Overton is not here to perform the introductions. May I get you a second cup of tea?"

"Oh, no, I'm perfectly satisfied, though I do thank you. Well, I hope you will have a chance to meet Lord and Lady Brentmoor during the spring season in London, Lady Angeline," Mrs. Quimby said.

Margaret leaned forward and touched Mrs. Quimby's arm. "I do beg your pardon, Mrs. Quimby. Would you be willing to play for us? I'm sure we would all enjoy it."

Margaret spoke to the girls briefly. They left the drawing room, and their voices receded.

Mrs. Quimby prattled on about what an honor it was to be asked to play. Margaret managed to urge her across the room and onto the bench. After setting up the music sheets, Margaret walked away as quickly as possible. She smiled at Mrs. Quimby and turned to Angeline. "I am sorry."

Angeline sighed. "She has no idea her words are unwelcome, Margaret."

"My head aches from listening to her," the d.u.c.h.ess said. "Her manners are deplorable."

"Your headache will be the perfect excuse," Margaret said. "I will be concerned about contagion when the gentlemen arrive and will ask Chadwick to order the carriage immediately to take them home."

"Thank you, Margaret," Angeline said under her breath. "I do not want Mama to suffer any more talk of that fiend and his wife."

"My concerns are for you, Angeline," the d.u.c.h.ess said.

"I hope the gentlemen are prompt," Margaret said.

When Mrs. Quimby finished, she turned. "Would one of you like to exhibit? I do not wish to be greedy." She laughed.

"Please, continue," Margaret said. "We are all enjoying your performance."

"She is blind to the feelings of others," the d.u.c.h.ess said. "Margaret, you will have to take her in hand. She will cause problems, because her husband is the vicar, meaning one cannot simply ignore her, which is impossible anyway."

"I have tried repeatedly to deter her," Margaret said.

"You are too gentle," the d.u.c.h.ess said. "A woman with her nature only understands the stark truth. You see the way she ignores suggestions, other than to show off at the pianoforte."

When the gentlemen returned to the drawing room, Angeline caught Colin's eye. He escorted her over to the window seat. "You look a bit distressed," he said under his breath.

"Mrs. Quimby is oblivious. I will tell you soon. Margaret is speaking to your father now."

"Oh, dear," the d.u.c.h.ess said. "I am not at all well."

Mrs. Quimby halted. "Oh, my. Perhaps another cup of tea would work."

Margaret hurried to the d.u.c.h.ess. "Oh, dear, you are looking pale. I hope there is no contagion. Chadwick, please have the carriage brought round."

He looked a bit taken aback, until Margaret said, "Chadwick, please do not delay. I could not be easy if Mrs. Quimby and Reverend Quimby remain when there is a possible contagion."

"Ah," the marquess said, lifting his chin. "I agree. We cannot expose Reverend and Mrs. Quimby. Let me ring for Ames to arrange matters."

"I'm sure it is nothing," Mrs. Quimby said, turning to her husband. "Do you not agree?"

Margaret took Mrs. Quimby's arm. "I would never forgive myself if either you or Mr. Quimby fell ill. In fact, it is quite cold out this evening, but there are woolen rugs in the carriage, and you will be comfortable on your journey."

Nearly half an hour elapsed before Margaret and the marquess returned to the drawing room.

"That woman does not know when to stop talking," the marquess said. "I can't very well ignore the reverend, but I cannot abide his wife."

"Subtlety is lost on her," Margaret said. "Be glad you were not here, Chadwick. It was a most distressing performance on the part of Mrs. Quimby."

After Margaret described the events, the marquess groaned. "The woman is completely unaware of others' feelings."

"Chadwick, something must be done," Margaret said.

"Oh, no," the marquess said. "I'm not stepping in that mud puddle."

Angeline sagged against the sofa. "She is unbearable. One hates to wound her, but apparently no one has ever curbed her prattling."

"I very much doubt she will change at this late date," Colin said. "Father, I suggest that you invite them only for tea."

"We've set a precedent," the marquess said. "It can't be avoided now."

"Lord Chadwick," Angeline said, "perhaps you could suggest to the reverend that he include some examples in his sermon of how we learn more from listening than speaking. Then when Reverend and Mrs. Quimby call, you can always bring up what a wonderful sermon it was and how he and Mrs. Quimby are such wonderful examples. Every time Mrs. Quimby prattles, bring up the subject of your favorite sermon."

"Excellent idea, Angeline," Margaret said.

The marquess's eyes gleamed. "Clever, Lady Angeline.

"Well, I'm for bed," the marquess said. "It has been a long day."

Everyone else agreed. Soon, Angeline and Colin found themselves alone.

"If I didn't know better, I would think they planned this," Angeline said.

He cupped her face. "I'm sorry for the disturbing evening."

"We weathered it," she said.

He kissed her gently. "I have business in London, and I leave tomorrow."

Angeline laid her head on his shoulder. "You're planning to call him out."

"Something must be done," Colin said.

She was so afraid of losing him. "He may not even be there," she said.

"Bellingham sent word. He is luring him."

"Oh, G.o.d," she said.

He wrapped his arms around her. "You've nothing to worry about," he said. "All the plans are in place."

"What if something goes wrong?" she said.

"It won't," he said.

"No, Colin. It's not worth risking your life. Do you know what it would do to me if something happened to you?"

"I know this is hard, Angeline, but I promise that all will be well very soon. I won't risk my life. I am my father's only heir, after all, and I do want to live. There is so much I wish to share with you. When I return, I will be expecting your kisses."

"Please be careful. I could not bear losing you."

"All will be well," he said. "I promise."

She looked up at him. "I wish you would not go."

"I know, but I will not rest until he is made to pay for what he did. When it is all over, I will return to you and demand kisses."

The day after Colin left, the duke requested a meeting with Angeline after breakfast in the marquess's study. Angeline's stomach clenched. She'd missed her father so much and did not know what to expect from him. He had only spoken warmly to her that one time at Sommerall, and he'd ignored her for the most part afterward. She took a deep breath, lifted her chin, and walked inside the study.

Her father stood and made her a very formal bow.

"Angeline, my closest friend in all the world gave me a dressing-down. I am doubly ashamed of having failed you."

"Papa?" His red-rimmed eyes alarmed her. "Are you ill?"

"No, but I despise myself for letting you down. I should have booted that b.a.s.t.a.r.d out of our house immediately. I let him take me in, and I could not even look you in the eyes because I failed you. If I had been a better father, he would not have hurt my little girl."

She ran into his arms. "Papa, he played us both off each other. We didn't know until it was t-too late."

"I cannot change my mistakes, but I beg you to forgive me."

"I love you, Papa," she said. Oh, she had missed him so much.

"I also am ashamed because I made it seem that I favored Penny over you. I didn't mean to do it. I just felt a responsibility to her. She was so lonely after you and your mother went to Paris. If not for your little sister, I think I might have gone mad. I missed you and your mother so very much."

"We will be a whole family again, Papa."

"I have much to mend," he said, "but I would very much enjoy playing chess with you again."

"Thank you, Papa. I would appreciate the distraction. I am very worried about Colin."

"He will come home safe and sound," the duke said. "I have it on the best of authority that he has someone he wishes to see as soon as this business is over."

She hugged her father hard. "You have made me very happy."

"Now, shall we play?"

She took his arm. "I do plan to trounce you."

"I will give you no quarter, Daughter, but you may try."

Chapter Sixteen.

London At precisely midnight, Colin strode into White's Club. He knew who awaited him and where, for it was all set up in advance. His heart beat a little harder than usual, but he greeted acquaintances as he strode through the club. Many were watching, having been recruited into the inner circle. Someone with pretensions to honor was polluting the venerable club. That man would be publicly exposed and severely punished for crimes against the fairer s.e.x.

Brentmoor took a pinch of snuff, rather delicately, and offered it to Bellingham, who waved it off. Brentmoor was unaware that thirty men had waiting hacks outside and were planning a journey for him.

Brentmoor drank three bottles of Madeira, something Colin figured the cur would regret at dawn. Unbeknownst to Brentmoor, the men sitting with him had set him up. Two hours pa.s.sed when Colin invited Brentmoor to join them at a private party. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d accepted and hesitated only when he stepped out and saw the line of hacks at the curb.

Brentmoor spun around and scrambled, but Bellingham caught his arms and roughly tied them behind his back while Harry gagged the villain. Colin stepped forward, stripped off his glove, and slapped it in Brentmoor's face. "Before this day ends, you will beg for mercy and you will get none."

Colin pitched a heavy purse to the driver, a bribe to keep his mouth shut. Harry and Bell ducked inside the carriage and Colin shoved Brentmoor onto the floor of the hack. Colin boarded, knocked on the roof, and the hack rolled off. He looked behind the vehicle and saw the other hacks rolling off one by one. The destination was Wimbledon Common, a dueling place.

Brentmoor struggled and groaned when the hack hit a b.u.mp.

"That's only a taste of what I have in store for you," Colin said.

When they arrived at the field, the servants stood by with lanterns. Colin dumped Brentmoor on the ground, where he writhed like a mangy dog. The other carriages arrived, and the gentlemen descended the hacks. They formed a queue, and one by one they spit on his face.