Miss Davenport sucked in a breath that was almost genuine. “You can’t tell me you don’t know!”
“I only know what I have experienced, which is a kind and handsome man as my husband. But please, tell me what his reputation is. Is he a rake?” With difficulty, she kept her smile in place, daring the other lady to say it.
Another, perhaps, might not have done—but it was clear Miss Davenport did not shy away from a challenge, particularly when it involved harming another person.
“Why, my dear! Everyone knows the duke murdered his first wife!”
So she went there. Aurelia gaped at the girl in near disbelief. She had always thought rumors spread slowly, insidiously, like a disease shared only in whispers hidden behind fans and false smiles.
Not like this, in blatant confrontation.
Then again, what did Aurelia know?—this was her first foray into thetonproper.
Aurelia gasped mockingly, putting a hand to her mouth. “Murdered? How so?”
“Well.” Miss Davenport shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know the precise details.”
“But if youknowhe murdered her, surely you must have insights into the manner in which he did? Is there proof?”
“We know she was dreadfully unhappy,” Miss Peterson interjected on her friend’s behalf. “And that he was so angry with her that he killed her!”
Aurelia drew her brows together in an expression of polite disbelief. “Angrywith her? For whatever reason?”
Miss Peterson coughed delicately into her white kid glove. “I must say, I have not been briefed on the finer details.”
“Then how do you know she was unhappy? Were you close?” Aurelia shifted closer, doing her best to make her eyes gleam as though this gossip was fascinating to her. “Were you acquainted when she married the duke?”
Miss Davenport scoffed. “Of course not. That was before our time.”
“But everyoneknowsit to be true,” Miss Peterson nodded like a hen pecking at grain.
Aurelia adopted an expression of polite confusion. “I simply don’t understand precisely how you can know something to be true when you have no proof and were not there to speak with either of them. You were not close with the late duchess; you certainly are not close to the duke if you accuse him of murder. And you cannot even tell me how she died.Hmm. Sounds like—”
“She was poisoned!” Miss Peterson declared dramatically.
Miss Davenport hit the other lady’s arm, her brows descending. “Hush!”
Aurelia surveyed them both, her anger congealing into something hard and unforgiving. All they had been intending was to sow discord—though for what reason she couldn’t ascertain. Really, it didn’t matter.
“She was not poisoned,” she said coolly. “She left the house in a storm and lost her way. The duke had nothing to do with it, and he was devastated by her death. I can hardly speak for the quality of their marriage, or her happiness, but I can say definitively that she was not poisoned.”
Miss Davenport rolled her large, expressive eyes. “Forgive us, Your Grace. Miss Peterson has a habit of gettingover-excited.” She dug her elbow into the other girl’s side.
“Yes, Your Grace.” Miss Peterson laughed awkwardly. “That’s my mistake, of course. And I can understand why you would be inclined to defend the duke despite his scandal.”
“You must consider yourself extremely lucky,” Miss Davenport said. “To have captured his attention.”
“I’m surprised you don’t consider him to be fortunate to marry again despite the rumors.” Aurelia curled her fingers around the seat of her chair, fighting to keep her temper. “Or are you referring to my family?”
“Oh, yes.” Miss Davenport smirked. “Or rather, whoisyour family?”
Aurelia took a deep breath. Sebastian was elsewhere, sucked into conversation with some loquacious lordling hoping to grow his circle of influence. Surely the intermission would be over soon. She’d imagined this would be a better option than a ball, given the lack of possibility for conversation, but they were trapped in this small room with no escape.
If they left now, people wouldknowthey were fleeing. A sign of weakness, and thetonsniffed out weakness the way sharks smelled blood in water.
“What does that matter?” she asked. “I’m a duchess now, and there have been far more scandalous marriages than mine. Unless you were hoping he would return to London’s drawing rooms and find a new bride amongst the debutantes there?” Shemade a show of looking the ladies up and down. “Is that why you are so opposed to his having married another lady?
“If so, I’m afraid you would have been disappointed—evenifhe had re-entered society to find a new bride, he would not have selected one of yousimpering peacocks.”
