The Duchess War (Brothers Sinister #1)

But…it would be a tremendous breach of privacy.

And what would she do even if she found something? His word against hers would still leave her ruined. She argued with herself back and forth, until the passage of time made her decision for her.

The door to the car opened. It was the duke. He glanced at his satchel overhead and then shook his head. “Really,” he said, “you didn’t go through it?”

“Really.” Minnie gritted her teeth. “I didn’t go through it.”

“Am I not your enemy? Are we not at war?”

“I don’t know what you are. I certainly don’t know what we are doing.” Her nose wrinkled. “But I would have the devil of a time proving the provenance. Even if I did find a stack of radical handbills in your satchel, what would I do? Take them out and show the magistrate? I’d have no proof you once owned them.”

He took the satchel down and looked over at her. “You are constantly surprising me. I have to remind myself that whatever it is you are planning, it is going to be thought through more thoroughly than anything I have ever contemplated.” He undid the leather strap and reached in, taking out a handful of papers. “Here,” he said. “If you had gone through my satchel, you’d have found this. I wrote it for you anyway.”

He held out a piece of paper.

Minnie didn’t take it.

“You said you were terrified of the future, when last we spoke. I want a truce. This is my best offer.” He smiled at her, and oh God, she felt it, felt the force of his smile all the way to her toes.

She reached out and gingerly removed it from his hand. He was right; the letter had her name scrawled on the front.

“Pax for the journey?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“A few hours, Miss Pursling. That’s all I’m asking for.” His smile tilted. “And incidentally, about the other two passengers—”

The door opened, and he grimaced, folding his arms over his chest. The two people who had come in earlier entered once more.

The woman’s eyes rested on Minnie…and narrowed just long enough for Minnie to realize that this calm, impressive woman had likely heard something about her from the duke. Enough that she took in Minnie’s plain gown, the scar on her cheek, and tilted her head. Behind her stood the gentleman who’d winked at her, his hair dark, his cravat white.

The Duke of Clermont gave a rueful smile. “Heh,” he said. “Well, as to that.” He bit his lip. “Yes. Violet, Sebastian, may I introduce you to Miss Pursling? Miss Pursling, this is Violet Waterfield, the Countess of Cambury.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” the countess said, in a voice that suggested she was anything but.

“And behind her is Mr. Sebastian Malheur.”

Minnie forgot to be quiet. Her mouth fell open. “The Sebastian Malheur?” she found herself exclaiming. “The one who wrote that impassioned defense of Mr. Darwin?”

Goodness. If the stories about him were even remotely true, he was an absolute reprobate. He was wildly rumored to be not only a religious dissenter, but an actual atheist. A womanizer. A rake. But Mr. Malheur simply shrugged and set two fingers to his lips in an exaggerated gesture.

“Yes,” the duke said after a slightly stilted pause. “He’s that self-same benighted fellow. All the rumors you’ve heard are true. Also, he’s my cousin.” He let out a sigh. “Well, you two might as well come in and sit down,” he finally said. “It’s not as if you could make things any worse.”

She had no idea what he meant by that, if he was talking to them or to her. But the two of them trooped into the car. Without saying a word, or even once glancing at Minnie, they took their seats.

Chapter Nine

OUTSIDE, A WHISTLE BLEW.

The train shuddered as doors rattled shut all along its length. And Robert waited in misery for what he knew would come.

For a moment, all seemed well. Violet reached into her bag and took out some yarn and knitting needles; Sebastian sat, looking straight ahead at absolutely nothing.

Miss Pursling kept her gaze on the wooden slats that made up the floor. She’d put his letter in her pocket and didn’t even touch the fabric. The train began to move, swaying from side to side, and still she didn’t speak.

It shouldn’t have surprised Robert—she did this every single time he saw her—but Violet glanced up and over at him, then over at Miss Pursling. Her brows drew down in something like confusion. She exchanged a worried glance with Sebastian.

“So,” Robert said. “Miss Pursling, are you coming from London?”

Miss Pursling glanced at him and then looked away. “Yes, Your Grace,” she said meekly.

“What brought you there?”

She tilted her head forward so that there was no chance she might meet his eyes. “I had business, Your Grace. Business of a personal nature.”