"You do realize they're going to interrogate you about Malloryn," Ava said dryly.
"But not a word of what occurs here tonight leaves this room," Ingrid promised. "The gentlemen will remain oblivious."
Malloryn would kill her.
But then, Lord Corvus almost had, so really, what was she afraid of?
"As I said," she replied with an insouciant shrug, "I'm game. It sounds like fun."
And it had been so long since she'd truly enjoyed herself like this.
Ava sighed and poured them all a brandy, liberally splashing it into Adele's empty teacup.
"To a lady's secrets, and a promise of friendship everlasting," Ingrid said.
"No Rogue left behind," Lark added.
The three of them clinked cups together.
And then Adele managed to choke down half the cup, while Ingrid and Lark drained theirs.
"The first time Gemma brought out a bottle was just after Kincaid started pursuing Ava," Ingrid said. "There may—or may not—have been a conversation about what precisely a lady may expect in the bedroom. Gemma and I were trying to restrain ourselves for poor Ava's innocent ears, when to our shock and horror she blurted out that our dear Kincaid is a man of stature."
Adele blinked, slowly working her way through "stature" and "battering ram." Then her eyes widened.
Ava groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I will add, neither Ingrid nor Gemma was shocked or horrified."
"Delighted, I presume," Lark said with a snicker.
"You know Gemma." Ingrid waggled her brows. "Your turn."
Heat flushed through Lark's cheeks. Though she wore men's attire, she'd been reticent enough until now that Adele didn't truly know much about her.
"Are you asking about Charlie's, ahem, girth?"
"He's a strapping lad. But you're quite welcome to volunteer any secret you wish. As long as it's naughty." Ingrid's eyes flashed intently. "Our sugarplum is such a sweet young boy, I'm sure he has no dark secrets."
"Not like Byrnes," Ava said.
Lark snorted into her brandy. "Bloody hell. I don't think I want to know."
"Well?" Ingrid leaned forward, and Adele started feeling a little nervous about what she'd be expected to share.
"Our first time was in Russia," Lark muttered.
"Our?" Ingrid arched both brows.
"He waited for me," Lark replied. "We were both virgins."
"Oh." Ava sighed. "That's so sweet. I adore Charlie. He's always so thoughtful."
"Very thoughtful, if one knows what I mean?" Lark said. She turned to Adele to explain, "We grew up together and were friends as children, though it took him a few years to realize I was a girl."
"And then he definitely realized you were a girl," Ava said kindly. "He was mooning after you all through Russia. Gemma wanted to shake him to keep his mind on the job."
"Your turn," Ingrid said as Ava topped up Adele's cup. "We're all dying to know... is the duke as cold in bed as he seems?"
Adele buried her face in the cup and drank swiftly.
"Technically," she admitted, blushing furiously, "we haven't yet made it to a bed."
"I knew it!" Ingrid punched the air. "You made love to the Duke of Malloryn on his desk!"
"Charlie owes you fifty quid," Lark pointed out, and then looked chastened when Adele shot her a sharp look. "He was adamant the duke had managed to seduce you earlier."
"What, precisely, do you count as seduction?" Adele murmured, muddying the waters.
Of all the things Malloryn expected to find when he walked into Hardcastle Lane several hours later, it was not a very drunk Duchess of Malloryn.
He'd been prepared for tears.
Prepared to gently tend to his wife's distress, as Gemma had given him a lecture in the carriage on the way home about the aftermath of the assault and how he owed Adele a shoulder to cry on.
But the second he walked in, he noticed Herbert's slightly horrified expression beneath his nightcap, and wondered, for the second time that week, what sort of hell had broken loose.
Malloryn tugged off his gloves. "No break-ins? No scheming duchesses trapped in my study? No bodies?"
"No, Your Grace."
A round of giggling floated down the stairs.
"What on earth is going on?" Gemma asked, slipping her cloak from her shoulders as they all glanced up.
"That sounds like Ingrid," Byrnes said with a faint frown as something smashed.
"I believe the ladies are in no condition to put themselves to bed," Herbert said discreetly. "They have... raided Master Byrnes's private stock of blud-wein for Miss Lark, and the duke's decanters seem to have vanished. I tried to fend them off, but they were adamant."
"And one does not stand between Ingrid and a bottle of brandy when she has a thirst." Gemma shook her head.
"Again?" Byrnes shook his head. "That woman owes me."
"I'm sure she'll reimburse you in private," Gemma drawled. "I cannot believe they started without me."
Malloryn didn't move. "The duchess is with them?"
"I believe Her Grace is currently leading the charge. She Duchess of Malloryn'd me when I asked them to be a little quieter." Herbert cleared his throat. "Clara had to retire. It was all she could do not to burst out laughing."
As if to prove his statement, Adele staggered onto the landing, practically tripping on the hem of a green silk nightrobe that was too long for her. "Oh, it's my favorite husband!"
Malloryn realized his jaw hung slightly open.
"Don't break your neck on the stairs," Ingrid hollered. "Or the duke will have my head."
"But the duke is here!" Adele cried in delight. "And Gemma too! We waited for you, Gemma, but you—" A hiccup escaped her. "—have to catch up."
"My wife is a cool, rational creature without a heart," Gemma said, with a snicker.
"She would never make demands of me, the Duke of Malloryn," Byrnes added, getting in on the joke.
"She is the epitome of class and grace—"
"And would never dare cause her husband any uncomfortable displays of emotion—"
"The next person to open their mouth," he growled, "will be cleaning chamber pots for a month."