Elias held up a hand. “Not yet. Timing is critical. If we attempt such a thing at the same time my marriage becomes public knowledge, it will appear very suspicious. Especially with the duke so young, and quite alive, so to speak.”
Monty agreed with a thoughtful nod. “Yes…and then, if we claimed him dead immediately thereafter, it would look even more suspect. So, how shall we go about this?”
Elias slid off the table, scooped up his clothes, and headed toward the stairs. “Come. I need food and drink to think straight.”
“Several hours of sleep might do you wonders as well.” Monty followed him.
Mrs. Camp and Sarah the maid turned as the pair entered the kitchen, then whirled back around and gave Elias their backs.
“Good morning, my lord,” Mrs. Camp said. She curtsied without facing him. “Up quite early for our exercise, are we?”
Monty thumped him on the back. “Shirt, man. Have you no manners?”
“Good heavens! Forgive me, Mrs. Camp. Sarah.” Elias shrugged on the shirt. “It is safe to turn now, ladies. I am properly covered.”
Mrs. Camp turned, gave him a relieved smile, then pointed at the door. “A second pitcher of water for his lordship’s room, Sarah. He’ll be wanting an ample wash before he goes out today.”
Sarah dipped a curtsy to Elias and Monty both, then scurried out to follow orders.
“I believe she is saying you are a bit ripe, old man,” Monty teased.
“Why no, Your Grace.” Mrs. Camp aimed a quick curtsy at Monty. “I would never say such a thing to his lordship.” But mirth twinkled in her eyes and her plump cheeks turned even rosier.
“Mrs. Camp, would it be a terrible imposition if my brother and I ate our breakfast here in the kitchen—alone?” Elias seated himself at the worktable in the center of the room and motioned for Monty to do the same.
“Now, my lord?” She glanced back at the stove that she and Sarah had just lit. Several sticks of wood lay nearby, waiting to be added to the newly kindled flame. “You never eat before ten a.m.”
“The Whitfields’ dinner party was a complete disaster,” Monty told her in a gossipy whisper. “They completely ran out of food within the first hour and were watering down the port to make it last.”
“Oh my, they will be ruined, will they not?” Mrs. Camp greedily took in every word with surprising satisfaction. She wasn’t usually a woman who took such great pleasure in the pitfalls of others.
But then Elias remembered that Mrs. Camp and the Whitfields’ housekeeper had maintained a long-running feud. He smiled and joined in to get his breakfast cooked faster. “Too many guests. Too little food and drink.” He leaned toward her. “And it was said that Prinny was going to show.”
Mrs. Camp gasped. “Did he?”
Elias shrugged. “I am unsure. The heat of the crowded room overcame the poor Duchess of Hasterton, and my brother and I had to see her home.”
“Oh my, you have had nothing to eat in ages, then.” Mrs. Camp whirled about and started chucking wood into the stove. “Let me get this going good, then I’ll fetch the cakes from the pantry and hurry with the tea and chocolate. That’ll get you started while I cook the eggs, kidneys, chops, and liver. I understand you don’t usually eat such a large breakfast, but you must be famished.” She turned and shook a finger at him. “Why did you not wake me when you arrived home? I would have set you out a late supper.” Without waiting for an answer, she bustled out of the room, disappearing into the pantry.
“Well played,” Elias told Monty. “How did you know a juicyon ditwould get her moving?”
Monty fixed him with a superior look. “I know women.”
Stretching to watch the pantry door, Elias leaned across the table toward his brother. “I have been thinking. If I tell Celia of our plan to have the original patent amended to name her as the heir, she might forgive me.”
“She might also take that as your saying you cannot love her unless she is legitimate rather than a brilliant fraud.” Monty leaned back in his chair and made a face. “I advise you to play this carefully, brother. You said you hurt her deeply after she trusted you.”
“Do not remind me.” Elias pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed the inner corners of his burning eyes. The memory of the hurt on Celia’s face haunted him. She felt as if he had betrayed her—and he had. “I am as monstrous as our father.”
“No, you are not.” Monty leaned forward to say something else but stopped as Mrs. Camp whisked back into the room.
“Start on these, Your Grace and my lord.” She placed two platters piled high with slices of plum cake, seed cakes, and Elias’s favorite saffron cake. “Tea is next. The kettles on the hearth are almost ready.” She set the table with cups, plates, and silverware, then rushed over to the hearth, poured steaming water into the teapot, and brought it to the table as well. Examining her work with a critical eye, she threw her hands in the air. “Milk, sugar, and honey. Where is my mind?” She dashed back into the pantry, then returned with those.
“Well done, Mrs. Camp.” Monty filled his plate, then sat back out of the way as she poured his tea.
“You cannot have her,” Elias said, knowing his brother’s tactics.
Mrs. Camp went uncharacteristically silent with the praise, offered a pleased curtsy, then turned to the stove and started preparing the rest of the breakfast banquet she had promised. There would be no more privacy until she finished.
