The Duchess War (Brothers Sinister #1)

“De. Minnie. Mis.” He spoke the syllables separately, giving her name a savage twist. “You must think me a fool, Miss Minnie.”


It made a horrible kind of logic, so twisted that she might have laughed outright. Except that the consequence of this joke was not amusing.

“I have no proof,” he said, “and as your friendship with my future wife is known, I have no wish to see you publicly humiliated and charged with criminal sedition.”

“Criminal sedition!” she echoed in disbelief.

“So consider this a warning. If you keep on with this—” he flicked the paper in her hands “—I will find out the truth of your origins. I will prove that you are the one behind this. And I will ruin you.”

“I have nothing to do with it!” she protested, but it was futile. He was already turning away.

She clenched the handbill in her fist. What a damnable turn of events. Stevens was starting from a false premise, but it didn’t matter how he found the trail. If he followed it, he’d discover everything. Minnie’s past. Her real name. And most of all, her sins—long-buried, but not dead.

De minimis.

The difference between ruin and safety was a little thing. A very little thing, but she wasn’t going to lose it.

Chapter Two

“MINNIE!”

This time, when the voice came across the courtyard, Minnie didn’t startle. Her heart didn’t race. Instead, she found herself growing calmer, and a real smile took over her face. She turned to the speaker, holding out her hands. “Lydia,” she said warmly. “I am so glad to see you.”

“Where have you been?” Lydia asked. “I looked all over for you.”

She might have lied to anyone else. But Lydia… “Hiding,” Minnie returned. “Behind the davenport in the library.”

Anyone else would have taken that amiss. Lydia, however, knew Minnie as well as anyone ever could. She snorted and shook her head. “That’s so…so…”

“Ridiculous?”

“So unsurprising,” her friend answered. “I’m glad I found you, though. It’s time.”

“Time? Time for what?” There was nothing playing beside Beethoven today.

But her friend didn’t say anything. She simply took hold of Minnie’s elbow and walked her to the door of the mayor’s parlor.

Minnie planted her feet. “Lydia, I meant it. What time is it?”

“I knew you’d never suffer the introduction in the Great Hall with all those people about,” Lydia said with a smile. “So I asked Papa to keep watch in the parlor. It’s time for you to be introduced.”

“Introduced?” The courtyard was almost empty behind them. “To whom am I being introduced?”

Her friend wagged a finger at her. “You need to stay abreast of gossip. How is it possible that you do not know? He’s only twenty-eight years old, you know, and he has a reputation as a statesman—he’s widely credited with the Importation Compromise of 1860.”

Lydia said this as if she knew what that was—as if everyone knew about the Importation Compromise of 1860. Minnie had never heard of it before, and was fairly certain that Lydia hadn’t, either.

Lydia let out a blissful sigh. “And he’s here.”

“Yes, but who is he?” She cast another look at her friend. “And what do you mean by that sigh? You’re engaged.”

“Yes,” Lydia said, “And very, very happily so.”

One too many verys for believability, but as Minnie had never successfully argued the point before, there was no point in starting now.

“But you’re not engaged.” Lydia tugged on her hand. “Not yet. And in any event, what does reality have to do with imagination? Can you not once dream about yourself dressed in a gorgeous red silk, descending into a crowd of adoring masses with a handsome man at your side?”

Minnie could imagine it, but the masses in her imagination were never adoring. They shouted. They threw things. They called her names, and she had only to wait for a nightmare to experience it again.

“I’m not saying you must lay out funds for a wedding breakfast on the instant. Just dream. A little.” So saying, Lydia wrenched open the door.

There were only a handful of people in the room beyond. Mr. Charingford stood nearest the door, waiting for them. He greeted his daughter with a nod. The room was small, but the walls had been paneled in wood, the windows were stained glass, and the fireplace was adorned with carving. The Leicester coat of arms took pride of place on the far wall, and the heavy mayor’s chair stood at the front of the room.

That was where the few people had congregated—the mayor, his wife, Stevens, a man she didn’t recognize and… Minnie’s breath caught.

It was him. That blond-haired, blue-eyed man who’d spoken to her in the library. He’d looked far too young to be anyone important. More to the point, he’d seemed far too nice for it. To see the mayor dance attendance on him…

“You see?” Lydia said in a low voice. “I think even you could dream about him.”