The Duchess War (Brothers Sinister #1)

Slowly, Minnie drew out the letter he’d handed her on the train.

“This,” she said, “is personal correspondence from His Grace.” Her voice was trembling now. Her hands were, too. She smoothed the paper against the table and gripped the edge. “I will point out that he uses the highest quality of Graydon Mills paper that there is—there’s the watermark. His signature, too, can be authenticated.” She pointed. “But I rather think you will find the contents more interesting than the source.”

Stevens snatched the paper from her hand.

“Don’t know what I’m doing…” he muttered, reading. And then he stopped and looked up at her.

“I write handbills,” he read slowly. He read it again, and then a third time, his eyes moving more slowly across the paper with each successive reading. Over his shoulder, Charingford perused the words with a growing frown. He moved away, shaking his head.

“I don’t believe this,” Stevens said. But his words were not the words of a man who doubted the letter. They were an attempt to deny reality.

“Minnie,” Charingford said, “this letter…the tone of it is intimate. The salutation. The words he uses. Even the way the letter is signed. How is it that you came to be in possession of this letter?”

Robert might possibly have forgiven Minnie for revealing the truth under the circumstances. The duchess had said that she’d needed to betray him, to earn his scorn.

If she had been playing a game, this was the moment when she would have kissed her chess piece. Once she made this move, there would be no going back.

Minnie lifted one eyebrow. “The Duchess of Clermont approached me,” she said, quite distinctly. “She wants her son to give up his ideals. She offered me five thousand pounds if I could stop him.”

The truth. Not the full truth, and said as it was, it conveyed an impression that was entirely false. Her hands were shaking.

“Tell him that I said that,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady. “Show him, and he won’t deny his involvement.”

There was no longer any turning back. If she’d read the relationship correctly, telling the duke she had been in league with his mother would end any esteem he had for her.

But then, the moment Stevens had connected her with the name Minerva Lane, all chance at a happy marriage with the duke had ended.

“He’s a duke,” Stevens said dully. “How could a duke do this?”

“Ask him.” She dropped her head. “I wouldn’t know what a duke does or why he does it.”

“And how am I to bring him to account, even if he did?” Stevens was still staring at the paper. “He’s riled the town near to boiling with his handbills and his assertions. Next you know, you’ll have workers marching, refusing to come to work. How am I to keep peace if the citizens of the town think the law can be broken with impunity?”

Minnie reached for the letter—but Stevens yanked it away from her. He shuffled angrily through the papers, looking at them.

“Someone,” he said. “Someone must pay.”

She had paid once, and she would pay again. But for now… Now, she’d earned her money. She’d have enough to leave, enough to escape Minerva Lane for good. So why did she feel like weeping?

“Get out,” Stevens said. “Just—get out. I’ll deal with you later.”

Minnie slowly left the room.

Lydia had waited, pressed against the wall the entire time. But as Minnie went by, she followed her out into the front room.

“Lydia.” Minnie’s voice was shaking.

“What was that?” Lydia asked. “It couldn’t have been the truth. The Duchess of Clermont paying you? Minnie, she only arrived in town a few days ago, and this thing with the duke has been going on much longer than that. Telling them your name is really Minerva Lane? If you were really named Minerva Lane, you would have told me. I know you would have.”

Minnie flinched. “Lydia.”

“You would have told me,” Lydia repeated. “You are like a sister to me. You can’t be anyone else.”

“My name really is Minerva Lane.” She dropped her eyes. Somehow, this story should have been easier on the second retelling, but it was even harder with her friend’s eyes on her.

“No.” Lydia shook her head more fiercely. “It can’t be. You would have told me.”

“In a way, Minerva Lane never existed,” Minnie said. “When I was very young, my father dressed me as a boy and brought me around Europe, showing me off. He called me Maximilian. The truth came out.” She swallowed. “I was ruined. You can only imagine how I was ruined. I changed my name to escape his legacy.”

“But…” Lydia was shaking her head. “But how could that be true? If it were true, you would have told me.” She was becoming more vehement with every repetition of the phrase.

“No,” Minnie said. “I wouldn’t have.”