Page 4 of The Duke Decides

“I had this once,” Louisa said quietly. “And I burned it all down.”

The Duchess raised one darkened brow, waiting for Louisa to say more. She did not.

“How might this one have found out about you?”

“I’ve no notion.”

That was the most alarming part. She’d booked her passage to England under her new name and, when she arrived, spoke of her past to no one. She took shelter at the Hospital as a woman in distressed circumstances, and like many another who came through the doors, she made the place her home. She had become Louisa Bickford, orphan, and she explained her accent by saying she was from a Huguenot family that had settled in Spitalfields. It was custom not to interrogate those who came to the Hospital seeking aid.

One reason Louisa had been able to entirely reinvent herself.

“Hmm.” The Duchess settled back in her couch, tucking a cushion behind her back. “Who might you know who has found himself in need of funds?”

“I’m not certain he’s asking for funds at this point. He wants to meet and says I must hear him. I assume he means to make his next demand.”

The first letter had been straightforward: he named the sum necessary to persuade him to keep silent about her past. She had paid it, and used all of her savings to do so. She hadn’t a choice. She could not afford to lose her position as Matron, nor have the exposure of her sordid history reflect on the Hospital.

She had thought, foolishly, that would be the end.

Who could have found out about her, and how? The men of her acquaintance were mostly of the Manners family. The bridegrooms about to marry Rutland’s daughters were both respectable Members of Parliament and the sons of peers. The Duchess’s two surviving sons were military men, heroes of Waterloo, older and settled elsewhere.

“The Earl of Listowel, who lives in Kingston House,” Louisa said, naming the neighbor on the west side of Rutland House. “His grandson, Viscount Ennismore, is on the hunt for a wealthy bride, I hear. He’s an MP for an Irish constituency, so in town for the session, I would presume.”

“But William can’t live forever, and Ennismore is his heir,” the Duchess mused. “Why squeeze a charitable house for funds when one stands in line for an earldom?”

“Why squeeze a charitable house for funds at all?” Louisa murmured. “We’re not exactly a source of wealth.”

“He wants something else, then.”

“That is my fear.” And he wanted a meeting so he could deliver his demand in person, and force her to submit.

“This seal.” The Duchess turned over the letter and flicked a finger against the broken wax. “It reminds me of something.”

Louisa tensed. “You know it?”

“Not this sign, precisely. But there is a signet the Duke my husband wore, which he was secretive about, and passed to our son. I see John wearing the same ring sometimes. I have asked him about it, but all will say is that it is a reminder of his friends, and he always has someone to fight for him if need be.” The Duchess folded the vellum and passed the letter to Louisa with a smug smile. “That’s the answer, of course.”

“You have identified the mark?”

“No, I have an idea of someone who will fight for you. I shall arrange a meeting.”

“How?”

“I shall throw a masquerade ball. I can say it is for Emmeline’s marriage, or Katherine’s, or both. Write your accuser and tell him to meet you, masked. Pretend you will hear him. I will arrange for a friend to overhear, and intervene if necessary.”

“Who?” Louisa demanded, a sharp edge to her voice.

The Duchess smiled and sat up, shifting her pillow from behind her back. “I have connections, Louisa, and you may trust me to help you. The man I have in mind will enjoy playing the hero, I think.”

Louisa took up the bonnet she had set aside, biting back a retort. She was not one to ask for assistance; she had not done so in these past fifteen years.

“What if the blackmailer will not agree for me to arrange a meeting?”

“You give him no other option. He won’t expose you if it gains him nothing. He’ll take whatever you give him, Louisa, so what you must offer is a trap.”

Louisa fumbled with the ribbons as she retied her bonnet to her head. “This cannot end well.”

“Trust to me, dear. Go and admire Katherine’s sleeves, then return to your Hospital knowing all will be well. I shall send you the details of the masquerade when I have arranged them.” She rang the bell for a maid. “For now, I am paying a call on my good friend the Duchess of Cranbrook.”