“Oh heavens, Hugo. Down, boy.” The duchess’s voice rang across the salon, cutting and authoritative. “My dear duchess, please do stand else I fear the little mongrel will stuff his tongue down your throat.”
Daisy laughed as Hugo licked her cheek. “I don’t mind.”
As a girl, she’d longed for a dog, and that same longing returned to her in a rush now, likely compounded by an entire month of loneliness and isolation. March had turned into April, the weather warming, spring blossoming over the city, and still her husband had not returned. No word. No indication he even still breathed. The pang in her chest tightened, and the little dog seemed to sense her distress, for his simple lick turned into a frenzy of wet, overzealous canine kisses.
“Oh dear heavens, you little scoundrel,” the duchess chided. “Down, Hugo!”
The dog at last obeyed, settling himself on his haunches and blinking up at her with large, chocolate eyes. Daisy gave his head another pat before she stood, recalling her manners as she swept into a curtsy.
“Pish, none of that now,” the duchess said, an open and friendly smile curving her lips and rendering her even lovelier. “I don’t believe in standing on ceremony.” She gestured about her airily. “I’m somewhat of a collector of strays, you see.”
A collector of strays—yes, it made sense, from the dogs, to the cat, to the butler. Daisy couldn’t help but wonder if the odd woman before her viewed her as yet another one.
“How kindhearted of you.” Daisy strove for diplomacy. “Thank you for your invitation, Your Grace. I find myself something of an outsider in London.”
“You mustn’t thank me. Do come in and get settled,” the duchess ordered. “And please, you must call me Georgiana, I insist. Ludlow will bring tea shortly.”
Daisy hesitantly found her way to a chair that flanked the duchess, Hugo trailing happily along with her and sitting on the hem of her skirts after she’d found her seat. They chatted politely until the unlikely butler returned, looking almost ridiculous as he bore a dainty silver tray in his meaty paws. Daisy didn’t miss the look the duchess exchanged with the man before he quietly retreated from the room once more.
Innocuous chatter continued over tea, Daisy grateful for the companionship and the distraction both. Georgiana, as it turned out, was a fellow American heiress. Having grown up largely abroad, she possessed the cultured accent of any lady to the manor born. Daisy felt herself warming to the garrulous duchess, who was quick to laugh and equally generous in her smiles. During the course of their tête-à-tête, she almost forgot the misery of her current situation.
Until Georgiana eyed her sympathetically over her tea and uttered the observation she least wished to hear. “You seem dreadfully in need of a friend, Daisy.”
Daisy nearly spat her tea all over her silk gown. Yes, she supposed she was dreadfully in need of a friend. But who was this odd woman she scarcely knew, who kept a menagerie of small animals and had a terrifying butler, to say so?
“I’m perfectly content,” her pride forced her to say.
The duchess wasn’t fooled. She tilted her head, considering her. “You look perfectly miserable, dear.”
Daisy firmed her lips, stifling the unwanted surge of emotion evoked by her would-be friend’s words. “I’m… ”Lonely, wretched, dejected, heartbroken.She swallowed. “A friend would be lovely.”
“Excellent. You may be surprised to learn that we have a great deal more in common than hailing from the same homeland.” Georgiana settled her teacup into its saucer. “I too have a husband given to abrupt disappearances and secrecy.”
Daisy considered her newfound friend, struggling to make sense of the implications of what she’d just revealed. During the time she’d flitted about fashionable London society, she had never seen the Duke of Leeds himself. “Is His Grace not in residence?” she asked hesitantly.
Georgianna’s sunny expression went uncharacteristically dark. “He claims to be in America on a prolonged hunting expedition. Naturally, I don’t believe a word of it.”
Daisy frowned, feeling uncomfortable with this glimpse into the marriage of two virtual strangers. “You don’t?”
“I found some correspondence in the fire grate of his study, half burnt. It was nothing but a few sentences, meaningless observations on the weather, and I couldn’t fathom why he would’ve gone to the trouble of burning such a thing.” Georgiana paused. “It was only later, when I found some other letters stuffed amongst his books, that I realized they were written in code. It wasn’t at all what it seemed.”
Letters written in code.
What in heaven’s name…
Daisy’s mind returned to the odd note she’d found in Sebastian’s chamber, folded in thirds.The skies look too ominous to wait until afternoon.A shiver went straight down her spine. “Were you able to translate them?” she asked.
Georgiana nodded slowly. “My husband isn’t hunting game, Daisy. He’s in New York City. I haven’t yet worked out what it is he’s doing or why, but it’s something to do with the Fenians. What’s more, there was a name on one of the letters.”
Dread crept through her, uncoiling and then snapping tight around her heart like a manacle. Somehow, she knew what Georgiana was going to say next. “It was my name, wasn’t it?”
The duchess nodded. “So it only seems fitting, you see, that you and I ought to join forces and bring our miserable husbands to heel.”
Daisy set down her teacup with numb fingers as suspicion, hurt, and confusion warred within her. “What do you propose we do?”
Georgiana smiled, but this time, the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “We’ll wage a campaign of our own. Men are not so different from dogs in some ways, you see. Both are quite territorial. By the time we’re finished, they’ll be begging to tell us the truth.”
30thApril, 1881
