“Whatever for?”
“I believe Henry means to make life very complicated for Lord Eaton,” he replied. “I approve, of course, but how am I supposed to know these things if no one will tell me?”
“Clara has a list,” Priya said.
The duke looked at Meg. “Thorncroft is not like that.”
“I know.”
“I had him vetted.”
“Did you?” Priya said. “You are serious.”
Meg groaned. “Don’t encourage him.”
Pendleton patted her hand. “Be a good girl, now. I need to sort out his artifacts. That’s as true as anything else.”
Meg sighed. She knew that. And she knew when she’d been beaten. “Of course.”
“You’ll leave today.”
“I still need a chaperone.”
“Lady Blackwell has agreed to join you. She’s gone home to pack her wigs and secure that spaniel of hers.”
Meg was surprised. “But she hates to travel.” Lady Blackwell’s phobia of carriages was notorious. She rarely left Little Barrow and when she did, it was generally in an open pony cart, regardless of the weather. She had been trapped in a London riot years ago and the experience had never truly left her. Meg couldn’t imagine her willingly entering a closed carriage for several hours and it was too cold for a pony cart, no matter what she might say about it.
“She wouldn’t go to London for love or money,” the duke said. “But as it happens, Conall has sent funds to help with some rebuilding and redecoration of her house.”
“If Lady Blackwell wishes to be away from the dust and clamor, surely she would prefer staying with Lady Culpepper.” Persephone’s grandmother and Henry’s grandmother couldn’t be more different, but they had been lifelong friends. And Lady Culpepper lived just on the neighborhood estate.
“She might, but she has decided she would prefer an adventure. And she feels that a carriage ride north in broad daylight is something she can contend with.”
“And she wants us married off almost as much as you do,” Priya pointed out.
“Persephone’s grandmother!” Tamsin grinned. “Oh, that is going to be a visit to remember.”
“And the rest of it?” Meg asked pointedly.
Pendleton fiddled with the handle of his cup. “Ah, that.”
“Yes, that.”
“What exactly?” Priya demanded.
“That’s what I’m waiting to find out,” Meg said, not turning away from their godfather. He was entirely too slippery.
He winced. “As to that… there may have been an incident last night.”
Each of the women leaned forward, abruptly and preternaturally alert. “What’s happened?” Meg asked. “Did someone insult you?”
He smiled. “My Furies. I don’t know why they call you the Cinderellas.” He sat back in his chair, sighing. “Nothing’s happened to me, but I was informed someone broke into my study during the ball.”
Byron himself could have strolled into the room and demanded a kiss and they could not have been more offended.
“Someone stole from you?” Tamsin asked.
“What did they take?” Meg said.