The marquise sauntered away. She looked back, over her shoulder, and caught Jemma’s eye. There was something like envy—or rage—on her face.
“Do not ever imagine yourself comfortable, duchess. A mistake I committed.”
Then she turned with a swish of her skirts and disappeared into the ballroom.
“Dear me, what an uncomfortable woman she is!” Elijah says. “All in white and black like that. She reminds me of a chess board.”
Jemma closed her fan. “She’s beautiful, though. Don’t you think?”
“Undoubtedly.” He hesitated. “Villiers is here. He asked me whether you and I had begun our third game in the match.”
“And you told him?” She looked up at Elijah’s face, at his stark cheekbones, deep eyes, tired intelligence.
“I told him that I only wished I had you blindfolded and in bed,” he said, looking down at her. It should have been a joke…
It wasn’t a joke.
His eyes were serious.
“You do?” she said. It was hard even to force the air into her lungs to say that.
“And I told him that I would prefer that he complete his game immediately, under the circumstances.”
“You mean because if people suspect that I am having an affaire with him, they will not countenance our child as our own.”
He nodded. But there seemed to be so much more going on in the conversation, so much that was unsaid. Jemma’s heart was beating rapidly in her throat. “I don’t…” She cleared her throat and tried again. “I don’t wish to play that final game.”
His face went utterly still. He stayed there for a moment, looking down at her. Then his utterly charming smile appeared and he bowed.
“In that case, my lady, I certainly will never urge the unpleasantness on you.”
He was gone, Jemma staring after him.
“The game with Villiers,” she clarified. But he was gone.
Chapter Twenty-three
The Dower House
March 2, 1784
Early evening
Simeon’s papers had been transferred to the Dower House. He was seated at a small desk and stood up when Isidore entered, keeping one hand on the desk, a sheet of paper in his other hand.
Isidore sat down, trying very hard to forget that the last time she saw him, he was naked. “As you didn’t join me for dinner last night, I had no chance to tell you that I went to the village. I bought one hundred and thirty-five yards of wool, and twenty-seven meat pies.”
He blinked and put down the paper. “Do we have a sudden need for meat pies? Or wool?”
“They are gifts from the duchy to the villagers, to mend relations. Everyone in the village will receive a meat pie and five yards of wool, courtesy of the duke and duchess.”
“Ah.” He looked down at the sheet before him. “Did you go into Mopser’s shop?”
“Yes. He sold me the wool.”
Simeon’s jaw clenched. “I have a letter from him demanding back payment for candles.”
“I can imagine there must be many such letters. People apparently believed that your father would have them taken up by the magistrates if they failed to provide the duchy with his requests, even when he didn’t pay,” Isidore said cheerfully. She pulled off her gloves and smoothed them on her knee.
Simeon’s eye rested on them for a moment and then he said, “Isidore, I am having to pay bills that I am certain are fraudulent.”
“Oh.”
“I briefly calculated Mopser’s request, for example. In order to use the number of candles that he says he sent to the house over the last five years, we’d need seven to nine candles burning at all hours of the day or night in every room in this house.”
Isidore bit her lip. “But the candelabra…”
“That’s calculating a rate of burn at about four hours, although most candles actually burn in approximately six,” he said, folding his hands. “Honeydew says that the candelabra haven’t been lit for years.”
“Mopser was probably trying to make up for other bills that your father didn’t pay,” Isidore pointed out.
“Or he’s a rascal taking advantage of the situation.”
“I truly don’t think so,” Isidore said. “In any event, I asked him to deliver five yards of wool to every house in the village. That’s well over one hundred yards, given that we have twenty-seven dwellings.”
“Did you say twenty-seven?”
“Including the huts down by the river,” Isidore said.
“There are nineteen houses in the village,” Simeon said. “Thirteen are occupied. There are indeed two hut-like structures by the river, but they are counted among the nineteen. He’s a thief.”