Free Scandal And The Duchess by Jennifer Ashley Page A

Rose. Someone who can be discreet.”
    “I know many people who can be discreet, but they’re not all on the side of angels.”
    Steven joined Sinclair in frowning contemplation of the cabinet. “I hoped it contained some sort of clue or message for Rose, or had been crammed full of gold coins for her. I’ve looked at it every which way, but . . . nothing.”
    “I met the Duke of Southdown once—the former one,” Sinclair said. “Maybe he simply knew the cabinet would fetch a good price, and give his widow a bit of cash. He died, suddenly, didn’t he? He didn’t know he would go so quickly. How would he have had time to prepare for her?”
    “Well, he didn’t do bloody enough while he was alive, that’s certain. Collins is browbeating the duke’s solicitors—Rose will have to put her faith in that.” Steven let out his breath. “She doesn’t want to let the cabinet go, but she might have no choice. Her pig of a stepson wants to see her destitute.”
    “So you said. He’s trying to prove her a bigamist, is he?”
    “He won’t,” Steven said in a hard voice. “She isn’t.”
    His brother’s stare became sharper, but finally Sinclair gave him a nod. “If it goes to court, I’ll advocate for her—I agree with you about her innocence. I warn you, though, juries of middle-aged, middle-class, holier-than-thou men don’t like pretty women who marry older men. They know they’d succumb to that temptation too readily themselves, and so they blame the temptress.”
    Steven balled one hand. His headache was coming back. “Thank you for the optimism.”
    “This is what happens. Be prepared for it.” Sinclair relaxed his stance. “I’ll help as much as I can. I’ll ram her innocence down the jury’s throats.” He studied the cabinet again. “It’s an interesting piece. Ask one of the Mackenzie brothers or their wives. They’ll either buy it to lose in those huge houses of theirs or know someone interested.”
    “Yes.” Steven had thought of the Mackenzies, especially Eleanor, wife of Hart Mackenzie, who was Duke of Kilmorgan. Eleanor knew everyone in London and everyone in Scotland, plus she had connections via her husband to people throughout the Empire who might like a nice cabinet for displaying their medals.
    But he’d hesitated. Rose had asked him, sorrow in her voice, to please help her find a buyer, then had retired to her room. Steven hadn’t wanted her to wake to find he’d already sold the bloody thing and had it carted away while she’d slept.
    Steven had sent for his brother not only for his opinion, but to help keep himself from picturing Rose, stripped down to her smalls, snuggling in her cozy bed. A single wall stood between her and Steven, a piece of wood, brick, and plaster keeping him from watching her sleep, drinking in the beauty of her.
    He needed a cold bath, or maybe a walk in the freezing rain. But Steven couldn’t make himself leave the suite.
    “Never mind about the cabinet for now,” Steven said. “I’ll wait until Rose wins back her settlements. She might have a place for it after all.” He thought of the warm glow on Rose’s face whenever she talked about her husband, and something stabbed at him. He needed to wrap up this business, take himself to Scotland for Christmas, and forget Rose. Hart always invited scores of people to his Christmas parties—maybe Steven could meet a lonely widow there and forget this one.
    And perhaps the rain outside would change to showers of gold, and champagne would flow in the streets.
    Sinclair was watching him again. “If you change your mind, Eleanor and Hart are in Town for now.” He shot a look at the closed door, then one at Steven. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
    “I don’t,” Steven said, shaking his head. “I don’t at all. Wish me luck.”
    “Mmph.” Sinclair’s expression changed. “
I
need luck. Tomorrow, I look for a new governess. Andrew put beetles into the current one’s