Chapter 21

The next morning, Penelope sat in Mercy's drawing room. She'd arrived earlier than the accustomed visiting hour, so Mama was not quite ready, and Mercy met with her alone. As soon as Mrs. Brooksby set up the tea things and left the room, Penelope spun on Mercy. "Tell me all about the Zoological Garden. You weren't supposed to be the one alone with the duke. What happened?"

"I was only alone with him for a moment."

"To catch your finch. I followed that well enough yesterday, but what happened, exactly?"

"In my defense, I didn't know it was a finch. I thought it might be some rare bird specimen."

"Honestly, Mercy, do you never look at the birds around you?" Penelope's smile was dangerously close to a laugh. How was she supposed to know the little bird was only a finch? She hadn't had a good look at it in the garden, and she had just passed a bird enclosure. Was it her fault that her mind had been stuck on exotic species? "How is the little patient doing?"

Mercy had brought the little bird home and was feeding and caring for it in the back garden. Apparently the Zoological Society didn't care for common finches. "He seems to be doing well. Time will tell, I suppose."

"I'm sure with your supervision he will recover. Now, tell me what happened when the two of you were alone. The duke came back looking a bit disheveled." Penelope had a look in her eye like she was ready to pounce on whatever delicious information Mercy was about to give her.

Rather than answer, Mercy poured tea, her hands much steadier than her heart. "He looked a lot worse than that when I first saw him. He'd mostly put himself back together by the time we returned." There was a moment of silence. Mercy didn't look up to see the expression on Penelope's face. Penelope was a romantic at heart, just as Mercy was. No doubt she saw no better ending to this whole charade than for Mercy and the Duke of Harrington to fall helplessly in love. "I did hear Miss Morgan laughing with him just before he found me, though."

"Oh," Penelope replied, and Mercy didn't have to see her face to know she was disappointed.

They both sipped their tea, and for the first time since she'd met Penelope, the woman remained silent. In between sips, Penelope would perk up like she was about to say something, and then stop. Finally, on her third try, she managed to string together a few words. "It is just that I had thought—"

"I know exactly what you thought, and you were wrong. Or rather, you were correct about what happened, only incorrect about with whom it happened." Why did her tea taste wrong? She stirred in another clump of sugar to counteract the bitterness.

"But—" Penelope shook her head. "Well, that simply ruins everything. I had such interesting news to bring you about your duke."

"He isn't my duke."

Penelope narrowed one eye at her as if to say, He could be, and we both know it. But she was wrong. Oh, Mercy could marry him—she had no doubt about that. But he would never fully be hers. She may have even been able to resign herself to the fact that he was not a passionate person, although that would have been painful. But to know he could ardently pursue another woman, and he simply did not show any signs of attraction to her?

It would be purgatory.

"Yolty knows him a little. And, well... if I knew something wonderful about the Duke of Harrington, would you want to hear it?"

Mercy clenched her jaw, and then relaxed it. It wasn't Penelope's fault that the man would happily take advantage of a few moments alone with Miss Morgan, but when he had the same opportunity with Mercy, he kept her at arm's length. "Is it that he is dying to wrap me in his arms, and he has no interest in any other woman?"

"No."

"Then, no. I don't suppose I do."

"But—"

"He has always been one of the most wonderful men in London. Everyone has told me that since the moment I caught his eye. But he isn't drawn to me for any other reason than the fact that he feels we are suitable. You and I both know that."

"Are you completely certain that is the only thing he likes about you?"

Mercy sighed heavily. She probably shouldn't mention it, as Penelope was bound to jump to conclusions, but at the same time, Harrington's compliment still burned when she thought of it, and she wanted to share its heat. "He may also like my freckles. But again, hardly a reason to get married."

Penelope bolted straight up. "Well, that's something, isn't it?"

"It is something that holds no bearing at all."

"Oh, Mercy. You don't know the first thing about love. I probably could have given up Yolty if it weren't for the cowlick in the middle of the back of his head. I'd resign myself to a life lived without him, and then I'd see that clump of hair that just wouldn't behave, and I knew I would never actually be able to be happy with anyone else."

"Really? Was that before or after your affair with Lord Bryant?"

"That cowlick was what caused my affair with Lord Bryant."

"Does he have a cowlick?"

"Not even close. His hair always lays perfectly. Someday I'll tell you all about my relationship with Lord Bryant."

"I'd really rather you didn't."

Penelope snorted and then raised both of her eyebrows. "I promise you, you would rather I did. Are you certain I can't talk you into bewitching the man who wants to marry you?"

"Of course I'm certain. It shouldn't be that much work, especially when he seems quite easily bewitched by other women."

Penelope looked as though she might argue, but instead, she sighed. "How is Bridget settling in?"

"Her accent is improving, and she works hard. Best of all, the hollows in her cheeks are starting to fill in."

"She hasn't written to all of her relations to tell them to come work for you?"

"No, but if she does, you know I will help them find positions."

"Oh, I know—most likely in my home. Soon enough, none of my servants will speak proper English either."

"Then we both can pick up Irish."

"That will make us quite popular among the ton . It is bad enough that I come from manufacturing stock. What will Yolty do with me?"

"The same as he has always done. Love you for those things."

Penelope smiled and raised her teacup to her mouth. This was a woman completely content in her home life. A life that used to give Mercy hope for her future. Instead of comforting her, though, a niggle of resentment stirred deep inside her gut, making her sickeningly sweet tea taste bitter again.

What was happening to her? Mercy wasn't a spiteful person. She'd always been happy for other people's joy. This whole situation with the duke was poisoning every aspect of her world.

Mrs. Brooksby knocked and announced Lady Ottersby had arrived for a morning visit. Lady Ottersby? The duke's sister?

Penelope put her cup down and sat up straighter. "I've heard lovely things about Lady Ottersby. If nothing else, this duke fiasco has you meeting with some of the best people in London. And I don't mean because of their titles."

Lady Ottersby swept into the room like spring had arrived in the Driarwood home. She immediately rushed to Mercy and kissed her cheek with undisguised affection. Were the two siblings actually related? For certain?

But then, the memory of his mussed hair and ruined cravat flashed through her mind. She needed to stop thinking of him as staid. He was obviously not. He simply wasn't interested in being anything else around Mercy.

"Lady Mercy, it is lovely to see you. I hope you don't mind me coming without notice?"

"Of course not," Mercy answered. Lady Ottersby's auburn hair was styled in curls lifted up and away from her face. The color was not the same as her brother's, but it reminded her of the way his had formed loose waves when unleashed at the Zoological Garden. "It is a pleasure. You will have to excuse my mother; she was up late with preparations for our upcoming ball and is still resting."

Lady Ottersby nodded as if the pleasantries were already over. "Nicholas told me Miss Morgan accompanied you to the gardens yesterday."

"Yes."

"Are you, indeed, great friends with Miss Morgan?"

Mercy didn't know how to answer. She barely knew either of these women. If she were going to continue to support Miss Morgan and the duke's relationship, then she needed to claim at least some intimate friendship with her. However, something about Lady Ottersby's open and honest face made it hard to lie to her.

"I am," Penelope spoke up before Mercy could answer. "She is a dear friend of mine." Apparently Penelope had no such qualms about lying.

"Oh," said Lady Ottersby.

Mercy motioned for Lady Ottersby to sit down. "Why do you ask?" Was she here to warn Mercy that Miss Morgan could be a threat to their courtship? Well, she knew that. In fact, she was counting on it.

Lady Ottersby dropped into her seat as if she had no one watching. "I have some history with Miss Morgan. My husband courted her for two years."

"Two years?" Penelope sputtered. She had only just taken a sip of tea, and she had to swallow it down hard. "That is quite the courtship."

"Yes, well, my husband was not titled at the time. I assure you, had he been, they would have been married in weeks."

"What are you saying?" Penelope asked.

"Only that I am surprised that, if she is such a dear friend, you didn't know about it. Their courtship only ended a little over two years ago."

Penelope tipped her head up. "We have become friends recently."

"How recently? As recently as last month?"

Penelope and Lady Ottersby stared at each other, neither willing to concede that the other was correct.

The two of them were being ridiculous. Lady Ottersby seemed determined to protect her brother, and Penelope to protect Mercy. Mercy shrugged. "It was last week."

Patience spun toward her. "How did she talk you into inviting her on your outing?"

"She didn't talk us in to anything. We asked her to come."

"Why?"

Mercy leaned forward, catching Lady Ottersby's gaze. It might not be pleasant to hear that her brother was a philanderer, but it was time she knew. "Because I believe your brother and Miss Morgan have a much stronger connection that he and I do, and I won't keep pursuing a relationship with him if his heart belongs elsewhere."

Patience pressed her lips together. Her eyes went wide, and then she covered her mouth with her gloved hand. "Nicholas and Miss Morgan?"

"Yes."

"I have seen him flirt with her on occasion, but he has no interest in Miss Morgan or her family."

Penelope leaned forward in her chair. "She is quiet and timid, but some men like that sort of thing. And while I agree that her mother would be an atrocious in-law, a woman should never be judged harshly because of her family."

"Miss Morgan is neither quiet nor timid. Of that I can assure you."

"Your brother seemed quite interested in her at the gardens." That laughter, his voice rumbling back... "And at the risk of sounding insolent, he has not shown such attentions to me."

"What do you mean, attentions?" Lady Ottersby asked, her face a mask of confusion. But all Mercy had to do was raise her eyebrows, and Lady Ottersby's face cleared. "I'm sure you must be mistaken. How do I explain my brother? I don't know that I can. I used to know him better. He wasn't always so stoic and serious. But somewhere along the way, all that changed. A part of him died. A good part of him—the brother who would laugh and not take the world so seriously. And with you, Lady Mercy, I see it coming back. He is smiling more. He gets excited about things. Life isn't so much a drudgery. He looks forward to attending balls and spending time with you. I promise you, Nicholas is capable of showering you with attention. He just needs time."

Lady Ottersby was passionate in her speech, enough so that Mercy at least believed that Lady Ottersby believed this version of her brother, but if she didn't know what had changed him, Mercy might know more about the duke than his sister did. "Did this unfortunate change correspond with your father sending him into the army?"

Lady Ottersby eyebrows furrowed. "Yes, it did. He changed drastically while under my father-in-law's command. How did you know?"

"I've gotten to know your brother a little." Perhaps in this one thing even better than his sister did. It wasn't the army that had changed him; it was the forced loss of the woman he loved. The stunning Lady Plymton. "And how long has he known Miss Morgan?"

"Only since the time I became engaged. Two years."

"And are you certain she is not the reason he's been changing?"

"Heavens no. She does, however, possess knowledge of our family that Nicholas would rather keep away from the public. If he ever looks concerned when she is around, it has nothing to do with her as a person."

That was an interesting tidbit. What was the duke hiding? "What kind of—" Mercy started, but another knock interrupted her.

Mrs. Brooksby walked in and handed Mercy another card. Mrs. and Miss Morgan. Well, this was about to get very interesting. Mercy looked up from the card. "Mrs. and Miss Morgan will be joining us."

Penelope's face brightened. She loved anything lively, and this morning was turning out to be very lively indeed. Lady Ottersby, on the other hand, scowled.

"Shall I invite them in?" Mrs. Brooksby asked.

Mercy looked at the two women already seated at the table. There was still room for several more, so why not? Miss Morgan should at the very least have the chance to defend herself. "Yes."

Mrs. Brooksby left to fetch them, and Lady Ottersby grabbed Mercy's hand. "I first met my husband when I ran away from home and pretended to be a maid in his household." Her voice was low and fast, as if she were trying to explain as much as she could before Miss Morgan walked through the door. "He was courting Miss Morgan at the time, and she is one of very few people who know what I did. Nicholas would rather die than have this get out among the ton . I personally don't care. But that is what Miss Morgan and her family hold over my brother. That and only that."

Mrs. Brooksby announced Mrs. and Miss Morgan the second after Lady Ottersby finished her rushed speech, and Mercy's open jaw clamped closed while her mind tried to process everything Lady Ottersby had said.

Despite their very different temperaments, both Miss Morgan's and her mother's faces registered shock in a similar fashion. At the sight of Lady Ottersby, their smiles wavered, then their eyes flashed to each other's, then almost simultaneously, their lips curved into friendly grins.

Lady Ottersby's story was so absolutely unprecedented that Mercy still wasn't certain she'd heard her correctly. The stunning woman sitting opposite her working as a maid? It was preposterous. But the looks on her newest guests' faces made Mercy think that perhaps Lady Ottersby knew exactly what these two women were about.

The five of them chatted about the weather, and Miss Morgan thanked Penelope once again for inviting her to the Zoological Garden. She practically fawned over Lady Ottersby. Where was the shy woman who could barely manage a few words the last time she was here?

Mercy finished her tea and set down her cup. "Miss Morgan, I am trying to decide which book to read next. Would you mind joining me at the bookshelf? I'd love your opinion."

Miss Morgan looked at her mother, who gave her an almost imperceptible nod, and then she smiled and stood. The bookcase was on the other side of the room, near the chess table. Pieces from her last game with the Duke of Harrington still stood in their place, waiting for him to return so they could finish. She'd planned her next move two days ago, but he hadn't been here to allow her to use it.

"What type of books to you prefer?" Miss Morgan said in a voice loud enough that it would carry to the rest of their party, still taking tea.

"That depends a lot on my mood." Mercy dragged a finger along the row of books. They both knew they hadn't come here to speak of them. She lowered her voice. It was time to test a theory. "How did you enjoy your time at the gardens?"

Miss Morgan let out a long, drawn-out sigh. "It was positively delightful. I knew that all the duke and I needed was a moment alone for us to rekindle our—" A pretty blush touched her cheeks, not unlike the ones she had at the garden after they had all rejoined each other. Could the woman blush on demand?

"I wasn't certain our plan had worked. The story His Grace told me hadn't sounded very romantic. I wondered if perhaps all our efforts were for naught."

Miss Morgan froze, one finger on the title of a book. "He must still want to keep what happened a secret. If I know him, he probably made up some story of me falling into him, or something nonsensical. He used to do that all the time. When will he finally admit his feelings?"

The laughter she had heard and the low voice that followed... Could that have been because Miss Morgan had fallen into him? That could also explain his ruffled appearance. The duke had shown almost no interest in Miss Morgan for the rest of the day. When he'd reached Mercy, he had seemed more upset than anything. "But he had a very clever explanation for why his face was swollen. I am inclined to believe him."

"Let me guess. He said I scraped his face with my hand as I fell? He's used that excuse several times before."

Mercy nodded, as if what Miss Morgan said calmed her suspicions. Someone in this room was lying, and at least with Miss Morgan, the truth was easy to sort out. If Miss Morgan and the duke had actually fallen back in together, she would no longer need Mercy's help. "Well then, it seems our work is done. I assume now that you have rekindled your relationship with His Grace, you won't need my help anymore."

Miss Morgan's jaw flexed, but she didn't look up. Instead, she pulled a book from the shelf and flipped through its pages. "Have you broken the courtship?"

"I'll wait for him to broach that subject. I'm certain he will, based on what you've told me."

Miss Morgan snapped the book closed. "But that's the woman's responsibility. You must see that."

Blast. She had a point. "True." Mercy tipped her head to one side. "I suppose I will think about it."

"And while you are thinking about it, could we arrange another meeting with the duke? If he comes to see me at my home, I'm afraid Mama's hopes will soar, and I would rather not put her through that again before we are certain."

Mercy kept her smile in check, but Miss Morgan had just shown her hand. The little conniver. "How could I possibly do that?" Mercy shook her head. "If I am to break off the courtship, I won't have any reason to meet with him again."

Miss Morgan opened her mouth to say something but then closed it. Opened it again and shook her head. "I suppose you're correct."

"Shall we return to tea, then?"

Miss Morgan and her daughter were determined to stay longer than Lady Ottersby, and Lady Ottersby seemed to also want more time to speak with Mercy alone, but after five cups of tea and Mama joining them, Lady Ottersby finally gave up and left. She embraced both Mercy and Penelope, then with a squeeze of Mercy's hand, she was gone.

A few minutes later, the Morgans left as well.

Poor Penelope had stayed through all of it. Mama excused herself, and once the door clicked closed, Mercy turned to Penelope. "We are done putting Miss Morgan in the duke's path. I'm afraid Lady Ottersby was right about her."

"You are certain?"

"Very." She was nothing like the girl she had been the first time they met, and her story about falling on the duke made a lot more sense than the two of them kissing in the gardens. "I think I owe the duke an apology."

"But you can't tell him."

"No, I can't. It would be highly embarrassing."

"So, we are through with our plotting. And I can finally tell you what Yolty said about the duke. It turns out he just hired a team of agriculturists to go to Ireland and work on ways to combat the blight. He wants Parliament to vote for more aid, but he is also taking the matter into his own hands."

Mercy closed her eyes. Of course he was.

Count on the Duke of Harrington to be a saint. As if liking her freckles didn't make him saint enough. Mercy sighed. "I have no doubts about his goodness, at least as far as the welfare of others is concerned. No one in England takes duty as seriously as he does. But it isn't his steadfastness I'm worried about—it is my place in his heart."

"Mercy." Penelope took her hand. "I think he may like you."

"Perhaps. But you heard what Lady Ottersby said about how unhappy he has been the past few years. I happen to know that happiness was lost when his father ended his relationship with Lady Plymton."

"Mercy . . ." Penelope frowned. "You cannot be serious."

Mercy stood. She was serious. "You haven't seen the way he jumps away from me whenever we get close. It is like he is trying to convince himself that he can be happy with me, but it never works. He looks miserable after every interaction. I cannot live my life that way."

Especially not now. When a small part of her wanted this more than she cared to admit. How could she live the rest of her life on the smallest scraps of affection the duke was willing to give? She couldn't. "One more test, Penelope. Miss Morgan was the wrong woman. That is all. We will conduct one more test. I think the most likely location to push the two of them together would be at my family's ball next week. I'll make certain she is on the guest list. We need to make a plan, but this time I need to be far from the duke when he meets her."

Penelope groaned. "Why don't you just ask him about her?"

"Because Lady Plymton won't help his social causes, not like I would. He won't allow his heart to rule his head, and even Miss Morgan knows that about him. If I speak to him, he will just use that head of his to explain everything away. Seeing her again will open his heart."

"And if it doesn't?"

"If it doesn't, then I will have a terrible decision to make."

Penelope raised her eyebrow in a question. "What decision?"

Mercy sighed. "Whether or not I can be happy married to a man who I think I might one day fall in love with, when I know he won't ever feel the same about me."

"But—"

"I know what you are going to say, and please just don't. I've seen you and Lord Yolten together, Richard and Rosalind, Lord and Lady Bryant, my parents. I know what love looks like. And what the duke and I have isn't even close."

Penelope dropped both of her hands to her side in defeat. She heaved a heavy sigh and then dragged one of her hands down the front of her face. "This is such a terrible idea."

"And that is why you are the only person I trust to help me with it."