And this was just the opportunity that Hannah wanted.
“I possess similarities with the duke’s mother?” Hannah asked. “Am I akin to her in looks?”
“Heavens, no,” Lord Hugh scoffed as he took a huge swig of coffee, which looked rather thin to Hannah’s eyes. “That’s like calling a sapling an oak tree.”
Hannah blinked. She was not exactly a small woman by anymeasure. In fact, she had several inches over both ladies and was probably a stone heavier too.
“Is she a redhead?” Hannah asked.
“No.” Lord Francis paused to tip back his coffee cup and drain it. He placed it back down onto the saucer and poured more before he finally continued speaking. “Her coloring was like John’s. They have the same mousy brown hair. Eyes are the same too.”
John. Lord Francis must be referring to the duke, but Hannah would never describe his hair as mousy. It was too rich a color—like well-steeped coffee mixed with the barest hint of red.
“Because you’re both tavern wenches,” Lady Joan spit out.
“I’m not a tavern wench,” Hannah contradicted.
“You certainly dress like one,” Aunt Eliza pointed out.
“I am a proprietress of a coffeehouse.” Hannah had no intention of hiding her identity. If it became known that a duke’s mistress—or former mistress—operated the Black Sheep, it would only increase sales. She wasn’t some noblewoman with a pristine reputation to safeguard. “Did His Grace’s mother own the tavern?”
“ThatIrishwoman? Own theHorse and Hen?” Lord Hugh’s response was a trifle too loud and perhaps a tad slurred. Hannah was beginning to wonder if that special brew contained some sort of alcohol.
Lord Francis joined his brother’s cackling as he topped off his brother’s cup. The two were definitely in unfashionably high spirits.
“Why? Was the Horse and Hen in a place like Mount Street?” Hannah asked, naming the fashionable boulevard of shops in Mayfair. She highly doubted that Foxglen’s motherhad worked at an establishment there, but she wanted to ferret out the vague location of the Horse and Hen.
Lord Francis snorted loudly and for some reason that made him laugh. His brother joined in. Finally, when Lord Francis quieted his guffaws, he said, “Hardly. It was a smelly, dark little hole in Covent Garden.”
“Was? Is it gone now?” Hannah asked, hoping that she didn’t sound too interested.
“How the hell would I know? It was my dead brother who frequented the establishment, not me. Bloody place was filled with damn reformers,” Lord Francis said defensively, his good humor all but vanished.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t say more,” Lady Eliza said in a shaky voice, her white hands flapping like nervous white moths.
“Whyever not?” Lord Hugh demanded. “You’re the one always entrenched in gossip.”
“Father wouldn’t like it.” Lady Eliza glanced around as if she expected the late duke’s ghostly form to emerge from behind the cream silk curtains.
“And do not forget the bequest,” Lady Joan added.
“Father isn’t here anymore, and I am talking about events that happened over twenty years ago. It is hardly noteworthy.” Lord Francis sounded a bit like a petulant and defensive child caught stealing candy.
Lady Joan ignored her brother’s response and turned to Hannah. “Why are you asking so many questions? You have no place in this household.”
“I want to learn everything there is to know about my darling duke.” Hannah managed to sound perfectly lovesick.
“A duke won’t marry a nobody like you—especially one ascold and calculating as John.” Lady Joan leaned over the table, most likely in an attempt to appear fierce.
As Hannah had dealt with actual pirates, she was not precisely impressed by this attempt at intimidation. She had an arsenal of pointed quips that would perfectly skewer Lady Joan, but Hannah didn’t want to appear quick witted.
“Oh, I would never describe the duke as distant—at least with me.” Hannah smiled brightly, feeling like a right flibbertigibbet. “And I would never dare to imagine that he would wed the likes of me. I’d make an absolutely dreadful duchess, don’t you agree?”
Lady Joan blinked, clearly not expecting her target to so readily acquiesce to her station. “Well, I mean, you do admit to it yourself.”
Hannah grinned broadly as if she hadn’t a single thought in her vapid head. Playing into prejudices was deliciously easy and more than a trifle fun. Who would have suspected that she’d actually enjoy investigating the Aucourtes?
“I am very parched from my journey here.” Hannah turned toward the uncles. “Could I try your special brew, my lords? I am always intrigued by different ways to prepare coffee.”
