Page 27 of The Duke of Deceit

“I am trying to do exactly that.”

“No. You are trying to finagle that man into marrying Amanda.”

“Someone has to.” How could she live with herself if she didn’t help her sister?

“Not at the price of your own reputation.” Matilda put down her cup and placed her napkin on her plate, signaling the end of breakfast, if not their conversation. “Does Amanda want you interfering in her life like this? Maybe she doesn’t even want to marry Crewe.”

“Of course she does.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve been writing letters to her about it.” Not technically a lie. Jess had done exactly that. She’d sent long, detailed letters about her plans for the duke and Amanda, their soon to be born child, and how everything would be put to rights.

Amanda simply had yet to reply.

But when she did, Jess was certain she’d agree with her. Besides, if the ends justified the means, then what harm was there in manipulation?

The front door knocker reverberated through the small townhouse.

Matilda frowned. “Who on earth could that be at this early hour?”

Jess glanced at the clock. “It’s nearly noon.”

“As I said, at this early hour.” Matilda shook her head, surely conjuring all kinds of bloody and ruinous thoughts that would have brought someone to their doorstep so early in the day. “Simms, would you see to the door, please?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The butler nodded, then hurried away toward the front of the house.

“Auntie, do you think—”

“Shh!” Matilda crossly shushed her, then cocked her head in the direction of the front door so she could hear better. The two women fell silent for several minutes, but they were too far away to hear anything except a few footfalls and muffled male voices.

Simms returned, carrying a large package. “A delivery for Miss St Claire from Meade’s Printing House.”

Jess popped up from her seat. “It must be about the book.” She gestured toward the end of the side table. “Put it there, please, Simms.”

He did so, then pulled a letter from his pocket and held it out. “And this, too, Miss.”

“Thank you.” Jess accepted it, recognizing the handwriting. It was from Jonas Stevenson, the former Bow Street Runner she’d hired to investigate Lucien, forwarded on as a favor by Mr. Meade.

She quickly broke the wax seal, unfolded the letter, and scanned her eyes over the page. It was more information about the Duke of Crewe. Yet she caught her breath because it wasn’t at all what she’d expected.

He was expelled from university during his first term in Oxford…

Well, perhapsthatwasn’t so unexpected. But the rest had her toes curling in her shoes.

…served as a mercenary during the wars, first with the Prussians and later in Spain. He excelled in reconnaissance and sabotage, sometimes keeping up false identities behind enemy lines for weeks at a time. He continues to lie about his past and to hide his true activities during the wars.

The Duke of Crewe had hired himself out as a mercenary? She hadn’t known that. No wonder his heart was black as coal; he’d already sold it away in the wars.

…continues to regularly participate in illegal boxing matches in the warehouses along the docks and spends several nights each week visiting various brothels across London, usually at Madame Pierre’s, where he has been reported spending hours in a room at the top of the brothel with several prostitutes at once. Rumors claim the Duke of Crewe once owned at least two brothels in Seven Dials and still has contacts in London’s criminalunderworld, especially with smugglers, fencers, and thieves.

She swallowed hard as a knot formed in her throat. She’d known Lucien possessed a bad reputation and that women, drink, and gambling occupied the majority of his waking hours. But she’d never expected secrets like these. He’d owned two brothels?Good Lord.

Could she trust anything she thought she knew about him?

I will have more information about his current activities soon. Please forward the agreed upon payment at your convenience. In the meantime, do not trust him with—

“Who’s that letter from, my dear?” Matilda asked, still seated at the table and deftly decapitating another kipper.