The main one being Gigi. Even though they’d parted mere hours ago, Conrad missed her. He thanked God that she hadn’t been with him when his carriage got struck. If anything had happened to her… His chest knotted. It was a good thing she’d asked to keep their relationship private for now. He would use the time to take care of any trouble…and to execute the final steps of his vengeance.
“I wish to speak to Marvell alone,” he said.
After Redgrave departed, Conrad said, “Fill me in on Grantley.”
“I have been monitoring His Grace’s situation, as you requested. His health continues to fail, and his physicians suspect he won’t survive more than a few months. Some of his debtors are panicking and calling in his debts.”
Due to his gambling and general profligacy, Robert Beaufort, the Duke of Grantley, owed a staggering amount. Not only had His Grace emptied the considerable coffers of the duchy, but he’d also left nothing behind for his wife, Lady Katerina, and their five daughters. At this point, he had but one card left to play.
“What about the betrothal of Grantley’s eldest, Lady Anne?” Conrad asked.
“As to that—” Marvell cut off, sneezing violently.
“What ails you?”
“Apologies, sir. It’s the blasted London fog.” Marvell wiped his nose. “It’s brought about this dreadful bout of catarrh. I’m hoping that the country air will relieve my symptoms.”
“You are welcome to stay the night. There’s plenty of room.”
“That’s kind of you, sir. Very kind,” Marvell said gratefully. “As for the betrothal, I learned that a colleague of mine was tasked with drawing up a contract between Grantley’s eldest, Lady Anne, and her distant cousin, Harold Stockton, the duke’s presumptive heir. No promises have yet been made. However, the Grantleys have sent out invitations for a ball in two weeks’ time. Given His Grace’s health, he has rarely been seen in public, which leads me to a conclusion.”
“You think Grantley plans to announce the betrothal of his daughter to his heir.”
“Yes, sir. Such a match would benefit both parties. Mr. Stockton comes from a branch of the family that has wealth from trade but little social standing. Lady Anne has the opposite problem. From what I’ve gathered, the duke has negotiated with Mr. Stockton to pay off his debts upon marriage and settle dowries upon his remaining daughters. In exchange, Mr. Stockton will have a wife who was born to play the role of duchess and will show him the ropes—socially speaking.”
“Stockton will lose enthusiasm for the match when he learns that he isn’t Grantley’s heir,” Conrad said pensively.
Anticipation simmered as he contemplated claiming his rightful place. All along, he’d been planning to destroy his older brother Robert…and now he had the perfect opportunity and venue to execute the final blow. The bastard was going to die knowing that Conrad had control of the duchy and the futures of his wife and daughters.
I am going to show Robert’s family the same mercy he showed me and my mama.
He wondered how Gigi would react when he revealed the truth, because if things continued the way they were going, his new status would undoubtedly affect her. He told himself she wouldn’t mind: people, in his experience, didn’t tend to look a gift horse in the mouth. Moreover, she was loyal. He would focus on courting her—on binding her to him heart, body, and soul. Once he accomplished that, he could count on her to weather any storm with him.
“Get me an invitation to the ball, Marvell,” he said.
“The reopening is going to be a disaster,” Letty wailed.
Gigi exchanged a worried look with Xenia, who was chaperoning as promised. Owen had escorted them, and to Gigi’s delight, her brother seemed less withdrawn. Not only that, but he was also putting his skills to use. At present, he was working on the spa’s garden.
“All will be fine,” Gigi soothed. “The road to success always has a few bumps.”
“While these individual incidents could be called molehills,” Letty said, wringing her hands, “they are adding up to be a veritable mountain of disaster.”
She wasn’t wrong: the bath had suffered an unfortunate series of setbacks. First, the discovery of the caldarium had apparently disturbed a nest of rats. The vermin had started invading the bath yesterday. Panicked, Letty had hired the local ratcatcher, a copper-haired lad by the name of Todd Cobbins. Cobbins, aided by his terrier Bobby, was currently waging war with the vermin. While the duo was undeniably fierce, they were outnumbered. Gigi had last glimpsed the pair holding back a furry tide in the pump room.
“Cobbins seems to know what he is doing,” Gigi said with determined positivity.
“Even if he manages to eliminate the rats before the opening, there is still the damage left behind by the deer,” Letty said glumly.
It never rained but poured. Deer had somehow found their way into the gardens, wreaking havoc on the hedges and shrubbery.
“Owen will take care of it.” At least, Gigi hoped he would. “He worked on the gardens at Bottoms House, and the groundskeeper says he has a natural flair for outdoor design.”
“What about the champagne?” The usually composed spinster looked ready to bite her nails. “I shall have nothing to serve my esteemed guests.”
This was the cherry atop the bad luck cake. Expecting the delivery of the bubbly today, Letty had instead received an apologetic message from the London merchant. Apparently, thieves had ransacked his warehouse, making off with the crates of champagne meant for her.
“We’ll think of something,” Gigi said. “Maybe Mr. Thornton could help us?”
