The Secret Pearl(64)

The duchess set down the letter and turned to look Fleur slowly up and down. “Slut!” she said sweetly.

Fleur looked at her calmly.

“By whose authority were you in the gallery?” her grace asked.

“By his grace’s,” Fleur said.

“I beg your pardon?” The voice was soft, the face delicate and surprised.

“By his grace’s, your grace.”

“And by whose authority was my daughter playing with the toys there?”

“By mine, your grace,” Fleur said.

“I see.” The duchess picked up a book from a stool and seated herself gracefully on the daybed.

Fleur stood quietly for several more minutes while her grace turned pages.

“Is it your habit,” the duchess said, looking up at last, her voice expressing pleasant curiosity, “to allow every man you meet to fondle you?”

“No, your grace.”

“Are you not satisfied with the salary you are paid?”

“Yes, thank you, your grace,” Fleur said. “I am very satisfied.”

“I thought perhaps it was the money,” the duchess said. “I can understand that for some servants it must be tempting to augment wages in such a manner. In your case it seems to be merely that you are a slut.”

Fleur said nothing.

“I wish you no ill,” her grace said. “You are what you are, Miss Hamilton. Perhaps you are unfortunate to have a mistress who has such tender sensibilities. But it distresses me beyond bearing to think of your being close to my daughter and influencing her. I will expect Mr. Houghton to inform me early tomorrow morning that he has been handed your resignation. I regret having to make such a request. You may go.”

“Sir Philip Shaw’s attentions were unasked-for and unwanted,” Fleur said. “I do not believe you have cause to suspect me with anyone else.”

The duchess laid aside her book carefully and looked slowly about the room, her eyebrows raised. “I do beg your pardon,” she said with a light laugh, “but is there anyone else in this room?”

“I spoke to you, your grace,” Fleur said.

“To me?” The duchess looked at her and smiled. “You have an unfortunate habit of not identifying the person to whom you speak, Miss Hamilton. I did inform you that you are dismissed, did I not?”

But the door from the dressing room opened before Fleur could turn, and Lord Thomas Kent stepped inside.

“Still here, Miss Hamilton?” he said. “You must be fit to drop. Have you not offered her a seat, Sybil? How uncivil of you.” His eyes were laughing.

“You are dismissed, Miss Hamilton,” her grace said.

“From the room?” Lord Thomas said. “By all means. But not from the house, I hope. My sister-in-law has the most volatile of tempers, Miss Hamilton. But she is not vindictive once she has calmed down. I believe you will still find yourself with employment by the end of the day. You had better move now before you fall down. I believe you must have been standing on that same spot for the better part of an hour.”

He smiled at her as she turned and made her way from the room.

Perhaps she should resign, she thought, assuming that she would have any choice in the matter anyway. Perhaps she should leave even before morning. Even before dinner.

But if she left, Matthew would think she was running from him. And he would come after her and fetter her and take her off to prison this time. Her temporary reprieve would prove to be very temporary indeed.

Besides, even if she did get away without being caught, what would she do? She had no money and no references. Her situation would be appallingly familiar, except that this time she would know how it must end.

She shut the door of her room behind her and locked it. And she threw herself facedown across the bed.

She had been so filled with elation just a few hours before. There had been the fresh air and the outdoors and the blessed, blessed freedom. And there had been that ride and her absurd happiness over the mad and dangerous race. Despite the fact that he had been her companion, she had been happier than she could remember being for years. Even happier than she had been at the ball. Her happiness with Daniel had been a quieter, less vibrant thing.

Daniel! She must not think of him. The pain of dull hopelessness would be too hard to bear if she allowed herself to think of him.


“THOMAS,” THE DUCHESS OF RIDGEWAY said indignantly, “that was intolerable. You quite undermined my authority, and people tend not to take me seriously anyway because I am so small and mild of manner.”

“Are you angry with me?” He leaned down and kissed her, sliding his tongue into her mouth and bearing her back and sideways until she was lying along the daybed. “Do you want to fight me? Kick me? Come on, then.” He laughed down at her.