Free Venus by Jane Feather Page A

overreaching herself this afternoon. “Perhaps you would save your scolding for when we are private, sister,” he said sharply. “I feel sure that our guest must find it tedious.”
    Lady Margaret blushed fiercely. De Winter stepped into the breach with a deft compliment on the lavish and elegant table, but none of the three was sorry when the meal was over and her ladyship withdrew, leaving the gentlemen to their wine and tobacco.
    “Well?” asked Nick. “What think you?”
    “That you have a peck of trouble upon your hands,” chuckled De Winter. “Your sister-in-law will not give the beauty houseroom for long. She will ply her shrew’s tongue until you are forced to remove the girl.”
    “You think I am no match for Margaret?” A mobile eyebrow lifted quizzically as Nick set a taper to his long clay pipe.
    “No man is match for a scold, my friend,” laughed De Winter. “And to speak truth, I cannot find it in my heart to blame your sister in this instance. Never have I seen such a paragon. She is not designed for the humble role, and she most assuredly lacks a Puritan’s demeanor.”
    Nick chuckled in his turn. “Heaven forfend. She would not suit our purposes if she possessed such a thing.” His eyes narrowed, his laughter ceased. “Think you that she will serve our purpose?”
    “Whether she has talent for the stage or not, Tom Killigrewwill not be able to resist her.” De Winter spoke thoughtfully. “She would decorate any production. And I grant you that she could well catch Buckingham’s eye. In which case, she will be in his bed in no time. I do not know a woman who has yet refused what he would offer.” He shrugged. “So long as she also stays close to you, I see no reason why your plan should not work. But as we said before, it is for you to make certain of her loyalty. If Buckingham buys her favors, you will have a high price to meet.”
    “Such cynicism!” murmured Nick with a slight smile, although he knew his friend spoke only the truth. The Duke of Buckingham, with his immense wealth and influence, could offer a wench in search of fame and fortune a great deal more than could Lord Kincaid. “There are other currencies than mere money and position.” He rose in leisurely fashion. “Like love and gratitude, my friend, as we said before. Now let us see whether her wits match her beauty.”
    The two men went into Kincaid’s private parlor. Richard reposed himself on a fine leather chair beside the fire while Nick perused his shelves for an appropriate book for a beginning reader. “Perhaps we should start with the Bible,” he said with a smile. “It might reconcile Margaret.” He pulled the bell rope beside the hearth, then opened the calf-bound book upon the table.
    “Yes, my lord.” It was Susan who answered the bell, her sparkling eyes and eager smile ample evidence of her memories of the morning.
    “Send Polly to me,” his lordship instructed, raising his head from the book.
    Susan hesitated. “M’lady, sir, has set her to cleaning the silver,” she said.
    Lord Kincaid frowned. “Well, she can surely finish it at some other time.”
    “Yes, m’lord.” Susan bobbed a curtsy, and retreated.
    “A peck of trouble,” mused Richard, tapping his teeth with a fingernail. “How’s she to explain the uncleaned silver?”
    “Are you trying to tell me, my friend, that this scheme is not going to work?”
    “I fear you may have to go about it differently,” was the reply.
    Polly, on receiving the summons, had no scruples about abandoning her task. The amount of silver in the Kincaid household was daunting, to say the least, when one was expected to polish it. She entered Lord Kincaid’s parlor impetuously and without ceremony, well aware that the Lady Margaret was about her business in the stillroom abovestairs. “If I had wished to be a kitchen maid, sir, I could have remained at the Dog tavern. At least,” she added with scrupulous fairness, “I could have done so if