When the Duke Returns(70)

“I’ve read about them,” Jemma said, “but what on earth does Beaumont have to offer to the poor robbed people?”

“Oh, it’s not the victims we bother about,” Mr. Cunningham told her. “It’s how to cope with the criminals once they’re caught that’s on the government’s mind at the moment. We used to banish them all to the colonies, but the American war stopped that.”

“Of course,” Jemma said. “It’s as if the rat-catcher suddenly left town. There’s no one to cope with the rats.”

“We’ve tried settling them in West Africa, and it doesn’t work,” Mr. Cunningham said, weaving his way through a second room just as teeming with gentlemen, if not more so. “We have a great number imprisoned in the hulks, decommissioned warships moored in the Thames, if you can believe it.”

“I expect they attempt to escape daily.” They entered a third room filled with chattering petitioners. “Mr. Cunningham, is there a better time to visit my husband?”

“Oh no, it’s like this from dawn to dusk,” Mr. Cunningham said over his shoulder.

“Goodness. I haven’t visited in years, but I had no idea…”

“Due to the fact that he is favored by Mr. Pitt, but also respected by Mr. Fox, His Grace finds himself in the unenviable position of brokering compromises.”

Finally they reached a room in which resided only a number of weedy-looking men scratching busily at sheets of foolscap. “If you will step this way, Your Grace,” Mr. Cunningham said, “the duke will be happy to greet you in his private chamber.”

Jemma stepped through the door; Mr. Cunningham melted away behind her.

Elijah’s office was beautifully appointed, with a rococo fireplace of just the sort that she most admired, and a lovely group of chairs clustered before it. He was already on his feet, out from behind his desk, and moving toward her. But her heart sank when she saw the look of cool reserve in his eyes.

“We need to speak,” she said. “I am sorry to bother you when you have so many people clamoring for your time.” She could hear a faint roar of voices through the closed door.

“Please,” Elijah said, guiding her to a small sofa.

She raised an eyebrow. “Cherry twill? Very nice.” It looked precisely like the chairs that graced her salon in Paris.

“I admired them in your house,” he said simply. And then: “They made me think of you.”

Jemma didn’t know how to take that. Did she really want her husband to remember her due to a pair of chairs? He sat down opposite her, rather than beside her.

“I received an amusing letter from Roberta, saying that her father is marrying his mermaid,” she said. “I can’t resist the idea of paying her a visit and meeting the mermaid myself. I thought to leave this afternoon or at the latest, tomorrow morning, so I wanted to let you know.”

“It was very kind of you to tell me yourself,” he said. “A mermaid. I should like to meet a mermaid.”

“I had hoped to see you this morning.” That was too blunt, but the sentence just jumped from her mouth.

He was silent for a moment. “I’m been—”

“I know you’re busy,” she said, cutting him off. “We have been married too long to lie to each other, Elijah.”

“I would have thought that the longer a marriage survived, the more the untruths accumulate.”

Jemma hated the fact that her heart lurched at the very sight of his smile. “I would prefer the opposite. I thought your note might have resulted from a misunderstanding about my last words to you.”

Obviously, he was a master of the art of silence.

“I told you that I did not wish to play the last game in my match with the Duke of Villiers.” She held her breath.

His expression didn’t change, and she dropped her eyes to her gloved hands. Fool that she was, she’d probably created the situation out of thin air. Look at all the petitioners he dealt with. He could not come home because he was busy. She was a fool. Her heart beat in tune with her self-recriminations.

He cleared his throat. “May I sit next to you, duchess?”

Jemma could feel a smile curling her lips. It was the gentleness of his tone. “Yes,” she said, rather breathlessly, adding: “Duke.”

“I thought you indicated a wish to discard our last game,” he said, seating himself next to her.

She pulled off her gloves and then reached up to touch his cheekbone. “You look tired again, Elijah.”

“Not our last game?” he said, showing the polite persistence that likely got him to the top of the government.