The Duchess War (The Brothers Sinister) (42 page)

“You see,” Robert said, “it is the
manner
of asking that I care about. All questions will be entertained—although those that are too personal, we may decline to answer. Would anyone like to start?”

Glances were exchanged among men, as if they were all afraid to get it wrong. After a few moments, a man in the back diffidently raised his hand. Robert nodded to him.

“Your Grace,” the man asked, “why did you marry Minerva Lane?”

“I wanted a duchess who was beautiful, clever, and brave more than I wanted one who was well-born. I didn’t need money. The fact that I was also in love with her was a welcome bonus.” Robert indicated another man. “You’re next.”

“
Does
she wear the trousers in your marriage?”

It was a question Robert suspected he’d hear again and again, over and over, until he answered it to everyone’s satisfaction.

“Do you want to know the first thing she did with my money?” Robert asked. “She visited a
modiste
in Paris.”

That brought a chuckle.

“Trust me,” Robert said, “anyone who looks as lovely as my wife does in skirts and a corset has no intention of wearing trousers.”

Heads bent, scribbling down those words.

Minnie had been right.
They have a pattern in their mind for what a woman should be,
she’d said.
On the one hand, it’s a pack of lies. But you can use those lies against them. Show them that I match the pattern in one respect, and they’ll not question whether I am different in another.
She had smiled.
In my case, it’s quite simple. I like pretty clothing. If we can make them see that, they’ll not ask about anything else
.

“This is all well and good,” another man said when Robert called on him, “but do you believe that the young Minerva Lane induced her father to defraud others, that she was the cause of his conviction and untimely death? And if so, has she repented of it?”

Robert gritted his teeth, felt his temper rise, but he forced himself to calmness. “No,” he said. “Her father opened the false accounts. Her father told lies to his compatriots when she was not present. Common sense suggests that when he was caught and faced the gallows, he was willing to tell another lie to save himself, no matter who it harmed.

“The Duchess of Clermont has suffered enough for her father’s falsehoods,” he said. “In this, I must claim the right of husband.” He smiled tightly. “And so I’ll beat the stuffing out of anyone who suggests otherwise.”

His pronouncement was met by the sound of a dozen pens scratching against paper.

If you say that,
Minnie had said,
you know you’ll have to do it. At least once.

He was looking forward to it.

“Speaking of whom,” Robert said, “I do believe it’s time for me to fetch her.”

He turned around, aware of the soft susurrus that arose behind him. He opened the side door and stepped through.

Minnie was waiting in the adjacent room, hands clasped, pacing from side to side.

He stopped at the sight of her. She was wearing a gown he’d never seen before—one that had, no doubt, been commissioned in Paris between bouts of lovemaking. It was a brilliant crimson in color, the kind of gown that would draw every eye. She was laced tightly, emphasizing her curves. And she was wearing the rubies he’d given her.

She had a black lace shawl looped over her arms, which were otherwise bare, and flowers in her hair. But to all this, she’d added something he’d only seen in paintings from the last century. She’d added a simple black beauty patch at the corner of her mouth. It drew the eye to her scar, made that web of white across her cheek seem like a purposeful decoration instead of a reminder of a senseless act of violence. The very modernity of her gown, coupled with that antique fashion, made her seem like a creature from no century at all.

He realized that he’d stopped dead, staring.

“You know, Minnie,” he said, slightly hoarse, “you’re ravishing.”

“Am I? Your mother hates the patch,” she said. “Are there many of them?”

He went to her. “Almost twenty. But I’ve done my best to frighten them into civility. Are you sure you want to do this?”

She drew in breath; that diamond shuddered on her bosom. “Positive.”

He took her hand. “Because I’m willing to send them to the devil…”

Her palm was cold, clammy, her breath a little rapid.

“…and I’ll be here by your side the entire time,” he said. “Nobody will come close. I promise.”

“I know.” She squeezed his hand and then, together, they walked back to the front parlor. She paused in the entrance. He wasn’t even sure if it was nerves that stopped her or if she simply wanted to make an impression.

In any event, it was clear that she had. The men let out little gasps of disbelief—as if they expected, somehow, that she would have shown up at the door in coat and trousers. And then they scrambled to their feet.

Minnie smiled. Robert, holding her hand, could feel her pulse racing in her wrist, could feel her fingers digging into his palm as all those eyes fell on her. He knew how much that smile cost her. He also knew that if they’d shouted at that moment, if they’d made any noise at all like a mob, she might have passed out right then. Instead, the men were silent as death, not wanting to be tossed out.

He conveyed her to the divan at the head of the room, seated her, and then sat himself.

The divan was on a little bit of a raised platform.

Minnie looked around, taking them all in. “Well,” she said. “I suppose this is as close as I’ll come to a throne.”

That drew a surprised laugh from the crowd.

“You’ll have to excuse me, gentlemen.” Her voice was quiet, so quiet that everyone strained forward to hear her. “I’ve asked for silence. My voice is not loud, and I am nervous.”

A hand went up at that. “Are you afraid of what truths we might uncover?”

A bold question to pose to her face. Minnie didn’t flinch.

“No,” she responded simply. “My fear is more primal in origin. When I was twelve…” She paused, took a measured breath, and continued. “Well, I believe you all know what happened when I was twelve, from my father’s statement in the courtroom to the mob that surrounded me afterward. They left me with this scar.” She touched her cheek. “Ever since then, large groups have made me faint of breath. I cannot bear to have so many eyes looking at me without remembering that time. In fact, I’m grateful for you all taking shorthand. It’s far better than having you stare at me en masse.” She said it with a deprecating smile, but her fingers were still tightly clenched around Robert’s.

Pens scribbled away at that. They wouldn’t detect what Robert could see so clearly—the pallor of her cheeks, the light pink of lips that were usually rose.

“Even now,” Minnie said, “all these years after, thinking about it makes my hands tremble.” She disentangled her hand from Robert’s and held it up in proof. “If there were ten more of you, I am not sure I could do this. And if you were shouting, I might actually pass out.” She gave them another smile. “That
is
what happened in the courtroom today.”

“How will you attend balls, parties—the sort of gatherings where duchesses are obligated to make appearances?”

“I am sure,” Minnie said, “that I will receive many kind invitations from my peers for precisely those events.”

They’d discussed that exact question, going over it again and again, until each word was perfect.

“I am also sure,” she said, “that everyone will understand that when I refuse those invitations, no malice is intended. Over the course of the next few years, however, my husband and I will be hosting a series of smaller events. I will be overseeing a number of my husband’s charitable concerns, and I feel confident that I will come to know many of my peers that way.”

“And you’re not afraid that you’ll be shunned for your prior history?”

“I’m sure there are some who will not wish to know me. But my situation no doubt means that my circle of acquaintances will be, by necessity, exclusive. If any woman wishes to withdraw herself from contention for a place there, she is more than welcome to do so.” She smiled at the gathered men.

As she spoke, they transcribed her words in shorthand. They would appear verbatim in half the papers around the nation. But while they all wrote, a few men lifted their heads to look at her.

She looked undoubtedly feminine; she’d shown them a weakness and put them at ease. But the gray-haired reporter on the side—Parret, Robert thought he was—was giving Minnie an interested look. He’d been covering London gossip and politics for longer than either of them had been alive, and he was perhaps recognizing what Robert already knew. The Duchess of Clermont had just issued a challenge to the ladies of London. She wasn’t going to beg for their company or grovel for their good opinion. Her friendship was a singular, original honor, and she would bestow it with care.

Parret raised his hand. “Your Grace,” he said, “was your talent for chess a…childhood fluke? A fraud?”

A little smile played across her face, this time genuine. “No,” she said simply. “It wasn’t.”

He raised an eyebrow and contemplated her. “You said you were nervous. You don’t look nervous.”

“When I used to feel anxious, I would once tell myself that I felt nothing. It helped, a little, until I could get away by myself.” Her hand folded around Robert’s. “Now I know I’m not alone. And that helps even more.”

Not alone.

It wasn’t just her hand in his, their bodies side by side on the divan. It was a sense that they were facing not just this trial together, but a life. It wouldn’t be easy. It wouldn’t even always be fun. But even at the worst times, it would be better for her by his side.

Not alone.
It filled him, that certainty. To their side, Oliver was smiling faintly. Minnie set her other hand atop Robert’s, and for a second, he looked into her eyes. When this was finished—when they’d sent these men running to tell the world that the Duke and Duchess of Clermont were a force to be reckoned with—he’d show her how not-alone she was.

He’d leave the necklace on, he decided. Everything else…

“Your Grace,” someone asked, interrupting his reverie, “if we could talk about those handbills? What was your intention with them?”

“Ah, yes,” Robert said. “It’s quite simple. I’m a duke. As such, I consider myself responsible for not just my own welfare, but that of the entire country.” He smiled, met his brother’s eyes, and leaned forward. “If we silence those who wish to speak, how can I do my job? Captain Stevens’s arrest was just the beginning.”

Now Minnie’s hands tightened around his.

“I don’t know how much I’ll achieve in my lifetime,” he said, “but this is just the beginning.”

Epilogue

Four years later.

I
T MIGHT HAVE LOOKED LIKE ANY OTHER DAY
to anyone else, but Robert knew better. The tension in the air was thick; a gentleman beside him clenched his fist and leaned forward. Beside him, Oliver and his father sat, looking on. Lydia and her husband were perched on chairs across the room. Lydia knew little of chess, but still she watched with her hand on her mouth. Three others made those present eight, not counting the two people in the middle of the room.

But eight was no longer enough to make Minnie nervous. Indeed, she looked to have forgotten everything. She sat at the small table that had been set up in the middle of the room, and she appeared to be the only one in the room who felt no nerves at all.

She had taken London by storm—which was to say, as with any good storm, some people stayed indoors when they saw her coming. But by and large, the people who mattered hadn’t shunned her. There had been more curiosity regarding the Duchess of Clermont than there had been ill feelings. She’d given salons—exclusive salons, limited in number—and people had come. Important people.

Gradually, she’d relaxed into the role. She still wouldn’t go to large parties; she still tried to avoid people watching her on the streets. But in settings like this… In settings like this, everyone could see her for who she really was. She was dressed in a gorgeous blue silk gown, and she didn’t seem to be put out at all, even though the man across from her had begun to sweat.

Finally, he picked up his piece. He held it in his hand and then set it down. Gustav Hernst, who had ended up as the winner of the first International Chess Tournament in London some fifteen years earlier, played his piece.

Minnie studied the board casually. She picked up a piece after a moment’s contemplation and then, with everyone watching, gave it a kiss.

Hernst shook his head and toppled his king on the board. He slumped in his chair. “You are still very good,” he said. “Too good. You should have won the last time we played.” His German accent was barely noticeable. “But I could not resist.”

Minnie stood and held out her hand. “A good game,” she said.

“An excellent game. I am glad your husband invited me. What happened all those years ago…it should never have taken place. The game should not have been stopped, most particularly not when you were about to win. It always rankled. It is my pleasure to make things right.”