“Yes.” Turning stone-faced, Grey set down his glass. “Why do you care, anyway? It’s my late father who’s involved, and I can ask whomever I please to do the testing.”
“But I’m assuming you want someone minimally competent in the field. Miss Norley surely has only a dilettante’s interest. So why use her instead of a legitimate chemist?”
Grey scowled. “I tried to find ‘a legitimate chemist,’ as you put it. But every one I spoke to refused.”
“For what reason?”
“Many were unfamiliar with the test Rose had developed. Some said they couldn’t get results on a body so long deceased. Others said they didn’t have the time. I suspect that’s a polite way of saying they want nothing to do with the possible murder of a duke.”
“You can hardly blame them. Dead men of great rank have live friends of great rank who don’t want to risk being dragged into a trial and might go to extraordinary lengths not to be. Which would leave the chemist who proved the poisoning in an awkward position.”
“Exactly. I even approached Mrs. Elizabeth Fulhame, a published chemist whose work is admired by others, but she has her own experiments that take up much of her time. She did, however, suggest a friend of hers—”
“Miss Norley.”
“Yes. And when I learned of Miss Norley’s experience as a chemist, I thought engaging her was my best recourse.”
Thorn sipped some rum. “The chit actually has experience?”
“You must have little faith in me indeed if you think I’d entrust this task to just anybody. Miss Norley comes highly recommended by her uncle, a well-known chemist himself, as well as by Mrs. Fulhame.”
Thorn had forgotten about her uncle, whom she’d mentioned on their first encounter. “So, a relation and another female. I hope you’re not paying Miss Norley too much for her dubious experience.”
Grey’s eyes turned the dark blue that showed he was reaching the end of his patience. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but I’m not paying her at all.”
That took Thorn by surprise. “Then why is she doing it?”
“Why do you care?” Grey leaned against the nearby desk. “For that matter, how do you even know Miss Norley?”
Thorn sighed. “Do you remember the Devonshire House ball, and how I was caught in a compromising situation with a young lady? I vaguely remember telling you that she turned me down when I proposed marriage.”
He’d been in such a temper when he’d left the Norley town house that he’d ranted to Grey about it. All these years later, he still regretted that. He didn’t like having people, even his half brother, know his secrets.
Grey’s jaw dropped. “Miss Norley?”
“The very one. Her stepmother set me up to be caught, and her daughter was the one who baited the trap.” With her knowledge of chemistry, actually. But being able to get a stain out of a waistcoat hardly meant she could do testing that would hold up in court. It was little more than a parlor trick. “Now you see why I’m concerned about your fixing upon her to do this.”
“Actually, no, I don’t see.”
“Trust me, Miss Norley’s reasons for her actions are generally suspect. For all you know, she wants to seduce you and ruin your marriage for her own shady purpose.”
Grey laughed. “Dear God, the woman certainly put your back up. You forget that I’ve met her. She hardly seems the consummate liar you make her out to be. Or, for that matter, the consummate seducer.”
“Appearances can be deceiving,” Thorn muttered, unnerved by his brother’s logical arguments.
Grey cocked his head. “I should point out that if Miss Norley ‘baited the trap’ for you, why did she then refuse your offer of marriage?”
That question had plagued his nights. Through the years, Thorn could come up with only one reason. “She thought refusing me would entice me to court her and possibly rouse jealousy in some fellow she really wanted.”
Better that than her rejecting him because she’d found him wanting during the short span of time between when she’d lured him into the library and when her stepmother had shown up on cue to “catch” them.
“You think she would prefer some other fellow over a wealthy duke?” Grey asked. “So why didn’t this other fellow offer for her? Since she has never married, she is obviously bad at baiting traps for men.”
Now fully in a temper, Thorn marched up to his half brother. “Whose side are you on?”
Grey crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re taking sides now, are we? Over my choice of chemist?”
“She is not a true—” Thorn stifled a sigh. “Look here, just because she carries a box of chemicals in her reticule doesn’t mean anything.”
“How do you know what’s in her reticule? For a man who is barely her acquaintance, you seem oddly aware of her habits and surprisingly sure of her character.” Grey looked smug. “Admit it, you’re being irrational. You don’t like her merely because she once had the audacity to turn you down.”
“So did Bea,” Thorn shot back, “the first time you proposed to her.”
As Thorn had known it would, that sally wiped the humor right off Grey’s face. “Who told you that?”
“Her brother.” Thorn smirked at Grey. “Who is now my brother-in-law. Trust me, I’ve heard all your dirty secrets.”
“From Wolfe? I doubt that. He’s more tight-lipped than I am.” Grey crossed his arms over his chest. “And obviously, Beatrice accepted me the second time, so perhaps you should offer for Miss Norley again.”
“Not on your life.” Thorn fought a grimace. Why was Miss Norley’s refusal still such a sore subject? It had happened years ago.
“Then offer for another woman. You’re getting a bit long in the tooth to be a bachelor.”
“Don’t be absurd,” Thorn said, though he’d thought nearly the same thing earlier. “I’m only thirty. Just because you fell into Bea’s arms like a trout into a fisherman’s net doesn’t mean I should give up my carefree bachelor life too young. Besides, there are plenty of women to be had without a man needing to marry one.”
“Ah, now I understand,” Grey said lazily. “You haven’t offered for any other woman because Miss Norley saw right through your easy charm and rattled you.”
“She was impressed enough by my ‘easy charm’ to let me kiss her years ago.”
“Oho!” Grey grinned at him. “You never told me that part, you devil, you. She must have found something wanting in your kisses, indeed.”
Thorn gritted his teeth. “She seemed rather enthusiastic at the time.”
“Are you saying she’s a trollop?”
“Of course not. But once you pair her with her stepmother, who forced my hand to make sure I offered for Miss Norley, you’ll realize that the two of them—”
“Who said anything about her stepmother?” Grey lifted an eyebrow. “Miss Norley made it quite clear she did not want Lady Norley to come along. The baroness doesn’t approve of her stepdaughter’s experiments.”
“So why did Lady Norley agree to let her go with you?”
“Because she doesn’t know why we invited Miss Norley. We told her that the young woman is coming to the estate to serve as Beatrice’s female companion during her confinement. I think Lady Norley was more than happy to allow her stepdaughter a chance to mingle with a duke and duchess. None of us saw any point in mentioning Miss Norley’s real purpose.”
“You don’t know what her real purpose is,” Thorn growled.
“Neither do you.” Grey straightened his shoulders. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but if anything, Miss Norley’s rejection of you makes me trust her even more. She has a spine, something sorely lacking in most society women, and she’s unimpressed by your title and wealth. So consider me forewarned, but I remain firm in my decision to have her do these tests.”
Grey’s refusal to see what seemed obvious to Thorn pricked his pride. “Very well. Then I’ll go with all of you to Carymont.”
“I haven’t invited you.”
“I daresay I can get your wife to do so.”
“You probably could, you silver-tongued arse. She won’t want to cause trouble in the family.” Grey mused a moment. “All right then. Join us. I suppose that could be useful. Once we have the results of the test, you and I can think through the next part of our strategy—finding out who administered the arsenic.”
Thorn drained his glass. “Assuming she finds any. And that her results are reliable.”
Grey headed for the door, then paused to look back at Thorn. “I warn you. If you so much as attempt to ruin my plans with unfounded accusations against Miss Norley, I will send you packing so fast you won’t know which way is up. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly.”
At least he could be around to make sure Miss Norley didn’t cause any trouble. Or her stepmother, for that matter, who was liable to go marching off to Suffolk to “rescue” Miss Norley from the licentious duke half brothers.
After all, Grey had gained a reputation for wild living himself before he’d married. And in Thorn’s mind, Miss Norley and Lady Norley went hand in hand no matter what the young woman had told Grey.
Lady Norley’s “secret” concerning Father had even more potential to hurt Mother than it had when she’d been abroad. So far the baroness hadn’t said a word about it publicly, so it was probably best not to upset the family by telling them. Indeed, all these years he’d considered it well in the past . . . until Miss Norley had shown up here.
Protecting Mother was paramount now that they were digging into who might have killed their fathers. If he and his half brothers proved that their fathers had been murdered, then she’d have more than enough secrets to deal with.
Unless she’d known about it all along. Unless Mother had murdered Father because she’d found out about his mistress.
Thorn shook his head. The very idea was absurd. How would she have managed damaging a carriage to cause the accident? Assuming there had been any damage to the carriage—they couldn’t even be sure of that.
But it was possible that his father’s mistress—if he’d had one—might have had an irate husband. It was something they should all consider . . . after Thorn had investigated the accident. He’d put that off long enough. If Grey was taking steps to find out who was killing off the dukes in their family, then it was high time Thorn do the same.
Until he could get home to do it, however, he must keep an eye on Miss Norley. Even if he hadn’t entirely averted the crisis over Grey’s choice of chemist, he’d at least put himself in a position to mitigate it. Now he must take her on. Time to let her know he’d be watching her every move. And he hated to admit it, but he was looking forward to that.
Chapter Two
Olivia got more nervous the longer she made small talk with the duchess. While waiting for a dance with the Duke of Thornstock. Who’d once been the sole subject of her fantasies.
Drat him. Why had he shown up again just as she’d finally erased him from her memory?
Supposedly he’d spent the intervening years in unsavory pursuits. That didn’t surprise her. Clearly, Mama had been right—he was a scoundrel who’d only been dallying with her that night and who’d only offered for her because Mama had pushed him into it.
But Olivia had never learned what he’d meant when he’d spoken of Mama’s threats and their bargain. She’d asked, but her stepmother had never given any specifics—just that she’d threatened to ruin him in society.
Obviously Mama hadn’t realized whom she was dealing with. Dukes were immune to such gossip, although through the years Mama had done her best to blacken his reputation. Why he hadn’t fought back as he’d threatened years ago was anyone’s guess. Was it perhaps because after his temper had cooled he’d recognized that he’d done plenty to blacken his own reputation?
Mama had said Olivia was better off without him, duke or no, so Olivia had struggled to put him out of her head. But at night after leaving the laboratory, when Mama had insisted she embroider fire screens and cushions, Olivia’s mind had wandered to when he’d kissed her. The only time anyone had ever kissed her.
Like the embroidery she’d worked on, she’d embellished their brief moments together—a stitch here and a loop there—until she’d no longer been sure exactly what was memory and what was fantasy.
But nine years was a long time, and eventually she’d been able to put the duke from her mind for days and then weeks at a time. Now he was here, threatening to overturn all her hard efforts. A pox on him. She wouldn’t fall prey to his charm again, especially now that she knew how little it meant.
“I can’t imagine where those two have gone off to,” the duchess said kindly. “I assure you, Thorn is generally much more polite.”
Not to me. Although she felt as if she’d given as good as she’d got during their exchange, it had been exhausting. “Honestly, it’s fine, Your Grace.”
“Please call me Beatrice. We’ll be spending quite a bit of time together, I imagine.”
Olivia certainly hoped so. She liked the duchess. Beatrice never seemed to put on airs. “Then you must call me Olivia,” she countered.
“I will, thank you. And I’ll ask you this before my mother-in-law does: were you named after the character in Twelfth Night?”
“Papa says I wasn’t. My mother never said, or if she did, I don’t remember. She died of consumption when I was eight, and Papa remarried very quickly. Lady Norley has been my mother in all respects for the past nineteen years.”
Beatrice stared across the room. “My mother died bearing me, so I never knew her at all. I’m named after Dante’s true love, but my mother-in-law prefers to think I was named after the Beatrice in Much Ado about Nothing. I don’t mind. It means I fit right in with the family. The dowager duchess gave all but Gwyn playwrights’ surnames for their Christian names. And even Gwyn is named after an actress.”
“That’s unusual, isn’t it?”
Beatrice nodded. “They’re an unusual family. Why, my husband and Thorn are so close one would never guess they’re only half brothers. They were raised together for a time, and it appears to have strengthened their filial bond.”
Olivia wondered if Beatrice was warning her not to get between the two brothers. Then again, Olivia had never been good at reading such subtleties of behavior, and the duchess seemed genuine and open, not the sort to hint at things.
“It’s lovely that they get along,” Olivia said. “I have no siblings, I’m afraid. I often wonder if I would have liked some. Or if they would merely have proved a nuisance.”
“I have only the one brother, Joshua—now Gwyn’s husband—and he can be both a nuisance and a pleasure, sometimes all at once.” Beatrice laughed lightly. “But I wouldn’t trade him for anything.”
Olivia was a bit jealous. With Papa absent most of the time, her stepmother always trying to push her in one direction or another, and her uncle only speaking of chemistry, Olivia wished she had someone nearer her age with whom to commiserate.
Beatrice scanned the ballroom yet again. “I may have to go fetch Grey and Thorn myself. We’ve already monopolized too much of your time this evening as it is, so I know you’re probably looking forward to a dance.”
With Thornstock? Hardly. Thank goodness she wore gloves, because the very thought of being in his arms again made her hands grow clammy. Especially given that he was so unreasonably angry at her. “Actually, I tend to prefer not dancing. I enjoy watching people far more than I do participating.”
The duchess smiled. “I understand. Grey is very patient with me on the dance floor, but I just learned some of the newer steps in the past year, and I’m not quite as steady on my feet as he is.”
“I used to be awful at it, but my stepmother hired a dancing master for me, and after far too many lessons I feel a bit more comfortable.” Olivia cast Beatrice a rueful smile. “A tiny bit.”
“Thankfully, Thorn is light on his feet. Follow his lead, and you shall have no issues, I assure you.”
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br /> “Unless he carries me about,” Olivia said grimly, “I fear I most certainly will have issues.”
The duchess chuckled. “You’re among friends here, so don’t worry. The dancing is all in good fun. We can overlook a misstep or two.”
Was she among friends? She rather liked the thought of that, but she dared not pin her hopes to it. She’d been without friends her age for so long that she’d taught herself to enjoy the solitude. Sometimes she even believed she truly did.
A sly look crossed Beatrice’s face. “And speaking of friends, I gather that you and Thorn have met before. Dare I ask how?”
Olivia searched for the best way to put it. “We had a brief encounter at the Devonshire House ball during my debut.”
“That sounds fairly innocuous. Your conversation did not.”
Dear heaven, how could she possibly explain the complicated situation her stepmother had put her in that night? “Well, we . . . er . . . did have a misunderstanding of sorts, which has left your brother-in-law disgruntled with me and my stepmother for all these years.”
“Disgruntled. Hmm. No matter. You shall have one dance with him, and then you need not see him again.”
Olivia didn’t want that either. But what did she want? The impossible. For him to be attracted to her the way she was to him. For him to wish to marry her while also supporting her work as a chemist. Neither of those was likely to happen.
She sighed. Although she’d guessed he was being forced into offering for her, her refusal of his proposal had clearly also stung his pride and fired his temper. It made no sense. She simply did not understand men and their . . . odd reactions.
That was why she preferred chemicals to people. Chemicals behaved in predictable ways. One merely had to figure out what those ways were. Chemicals didn’t up and change their properties one day out of the blue, and they certainly didn’t lose their tempers for no good reason.
“There they are!” Beatrice said as Greycourt and Thornstock entered the ballroom. “I began to wonder if they’d left entirely.”
If only Olivia could be so lucky.
Who Wants to Marry a Duke Page 4