The companion, a short, thin young lady in a drab coloured walking gown and a pair of spectacles on the tip of a pointy nose, dipped a curtsey.
‘I am so glad I saw you,’ Lady Priscilla said. ‘I wanted to ask if you would care to go shopping tomorrow afternoon with Mama and me? We are going to the warehouse in Houndsditch to choose fabric for new curtains.’
Minette glanced at Freddy. ‘We don’t have any plans for tomorrow afternoon, do we?’
‘None. I did have it in mind to ask you to attend an event with me the day after.’
Minette smiled at Priscilla. ‘I would love to go.’
‘Good. We always go to Gunter’s afterwards for ices. We will call for you at two.’
Freddy bowed again and moved back into the traffic on the drive.
‘I thought you said you hadn’t known Lady Priscilla long?’
She winced at his frigid tone. He was still suspicious. ‘Believe it or not, I met her for the very first time at Gosport’s ball. It is strange. I feel as if we have known each other for years. It is nice to find a friend.’
‘A fortunate first meeting, then.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, do not tease. You know what happened was an accident.’
His lips twitched a fraction. ‘Very well. We will never mention it again.’
‘And I will tell Madame Vitesse that whoever was making enquiries about her brother was not you.’
A brow shot up. She’d clearly surprised him. ‘You do believe me, then.’
‘Gabe wouldn’t have you for a friend if you were without honour. And lying is dishonourable, n’est pas?’
He bowed. ‘You are as intelligent as you are beautiful, sweetheart.’
Sweetheart. A casual endearment that warmed her through and through. She felt the heat of it rise in her cheeks. ‘A compliment?’ she shot back, with a glance askance to hide her confusion. ‘Now, that is something new.’
‘Well, you are my fiancée.’
Something inside her delighted at the teasing note in his voice.
She batted her lashes in pretended flirtatiousness. ‘So that is the reason. I suppose it makes sense when we have to keep up appearances. What is this invitation you mentioned to Lady Priscilla?’
‘A cricket match at Lord’s Ground.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Cricket is a game I do not understand very well.’
‘Mr Brummell is to play for Hampshire.’
For a moment she didn’t quite believe she’d heard him correctly. ‘Beau Brummell?’
‘Indeed.’ The teasing twinkle was back in the depths of his blue eyes. ‘That Mr Brummell.’
She cast him an arch look. ‘It would be important to attend, then.’
‘Exceedingly.’
‘Do you think we could ask Lady Priscilla to go with us?’
He frowned.
‘She feels very badly about what happened. It would go some way to relieve her mind that you do not hold her to blame.’
‘Not altogether to blame.’
The mock severity in his voice made her chuckle. ‘Then you agree. And it would save Nicky the bother of having to act as chaperone. She becomes very tired in the afternoons.’
‘Very well. If your friend will bring her antidote of a companion with her to give the whole event a veritable aura of respectability.’
‘Then it is settled. I will ask Lady Priscilla tomorrow.’
This new feeling of harmony between them was very welcome. Indeed, the day seemed brighter than it had before. She glanced up. How strange, the sun was covered by cloud, but she was definitely feeling warm. Apparently, it was nothing to do with the sun, it was a glow inside her at their newfound accord.
They reached the end of the carriage road. ‘Do you want to take another turn?’ he asked.
She cast him a sideways glance. ‘Would you let me drive? I hear lots of ladies own their own carriages and drive themselves.’
‘They do.’
‘And they have races,’ she said, recalling a conversation.
‘If that is your plan you can ask someone else to teach you.’
She recoiled from the harsh tone in his voice. ‘It is all right for a man to race but not for a woman?’
‘It is reckless for anyone.’
Her spine stiffened. Always this man had to be in control. ‘Then certainly I will ask someone else. If you would be so good as to drive me home? I must dress for a ball this evening. It would not do to rush my toilette.’
He headed out of the gate.
‘Are you also going to Lady Cowper’s ball tonight?’ she asked, breaking the chilly silence.
‘I was not invited. She is another of my mother’s friends.’
Did his mother really wield so much influence? ‘Then I will look forward to seeing you at the cricket match.’
‘I’ll send a note to Gabe, just to make sure he approves before you invite your friend.’
‘Perfect,’ she said.
It was anything but perfect. Once more they were at odds. But one thing was certain, she was going to ask Gabe about Freddy’s mother and her friends.
* * *
After properly messing up their budding friendship during the drive in the park, Freddy hoped today’s outing would regain the ground he’d lost. He’d been a fool to react so strongly to her casual remark about racing. Clearly she had not heard the rumours about what had happened to his brother and he should not allow guilt to ride him so hard.
The past was over and done with, and if his mother could not let it go, he could do no more.
She would not be pleased about his engagement. Not one bit. He’d written to her, of course, given her the news and set things in motion for the betrothal ball. The people on the estate would be delighted. An engagement promised a wedding and a bride promised an heir and all the security of a continuing dynasty. Unfortunately, Mother hadn’t replied to his missive. Not one word. No surprise there.
She would do her duty to the dukedom, as she always had done her duty. But no force on earth could make her show anything but martyrdom as she did it. A problem looming on the horizon. The woman’s negativity would lend the perfect excuse to Minette’s diffidence about the wedding. Something he would have to work hard to counter, when he hadn’t yet managed to overcome his fiancée’s objections.
Meanwhile, he needed to find out who else was clumsily trying to put a hand on Moreau’s collar. He didn’t want the Home Office or anyone else queering his pitch.
He had been surprised by Minette’s acceptance of his word that it was not him or his men stomping around and poking their noses into finding Madame Vitesse’s brother. He had discovered the man’s last name. Every foreigner who entered the country had to register with the Department of Aliens and one Henri Latour was no different. But that was all they had done or would do—unless Madame Vitesse did not provide the information she’d promised.
To his relief, the ladies were ready and waiting in the drawing room at Gabe’s town house.
‘You recall Lady Priscilla