‘Because the duke requires it,’ said Fletcher. He maintained his professional demeanour, although seemed to be imparting a truth that made him a little uncomfortable. They remained silent, and his eyes flicked between them. ‘Because of Mr Knatchbull,’ he qualified. ‘Relations must be maintained, and you are aware of the principles of reciprocity and obligation.’
‘Of course I am aware,’ said Thea, not understanding. ‘But we send the Knatchbulls plenty of produce from the estate and Lady Foxmore has kindly furnished them with tens of samples from her voyages at the duke’s request. Why would he need to share my secrets too?’
She watched Fletcher as he became increasingly agitated. ‘I am unsure, Your Grace. I suppose knowledge may be shared as a commodity in the same manner that produce might. I was, of course, uncomfortable doing it but the duke is the master of the house, and I could not refuse.’
That she could believe. ‘Of course not, Fletcher,’ she said. She knew how obstinate George could be. ‘How did you do it?’ she asked. ‘When I spoke to the duke, he was not aware of the eyeballs.’
‘Letters,’ said Fletcher, looking contrite. ‘They go with the game. I have access to the glasshouses, of course. The duke does not need to be aware.’
‘Does anyone else know?’ she asked, fearful she was the subject of ridicule in her own household. But Fletcher shook his head.
‘I am not aware that the duke trusts anyone else to gather information,’ he said. Thea relaxed a little at this.
‘What does Knatchbull have over the duke?’ asked Martha. ‘As Her Grace says, the ties of reciprocity are conventionally served between the households. This is a significant benefit for Knatchbull given the duke purports to hold him in such contempt. Why this too? Is the duke in trouble politically?’
Fletcher remained still, but his eyes flicked to the side. ‘Not that I am aware of, my lady. He has indicated nothing of the sort although I would not necessarily be privy to such information, of course.’
‘Who would know?’ she asked.
‘Only the duke, in this house,’ said Fletcher. ‘He shares his reasoning with nobody in his domestic circles, not even myself or the land agent.’ He thought for a moment. ‘I suppose Sanders may be aware, the footmen spend the most time with the duke when he is on his business, although it really would not be fair to ask.’
Thea looked at Martha, who had clearly had the same thought. ‘The footmen spend time with the duke.’
‘And the duke is the one keeping Knatchbull sweet.’
‘It wasn’t Knatchbull,’ said Thea, her pulse climbing. ‘The letters weren’t Knatchbull.’ She dashed up the stairs and made for the east wing.
‘What does Knatchbull have over you?’ roared Thea as she stormed into George’s sitting apartments. Her usual caution was flayed to nothing by the realisation that the letters to Martha had come not from Knatchbull, but from her own household. Her momentum was arrested somewhat by the scene presented to her. Her husband, reclined on the chaise, glass in hand, and Miss Bellegarde leaning over him with her hand down his breeches. Thea faltered, but then simply folded her arms and looked away, intent on remaining. ‘Should I give you a little time to compose yourself? I really must speak with you.’ Her eyes flicked to Miss Bellegarde and back, who didn’t have the courtesy to look embarrassed.
George kissed his mistress, stroking her cheek and then removed her hand and motioned for her to sit in the chair opposite. She poured herself some tea.
‘I would rather you knocked,’ was all he said, slurring a little as he rose and buttoned his breeches.
‘I would rather not have to interrupt you,’ said Thea, undeterred, her heart beating fast but trying to maintain her composure. ‘But I am afraid I must request some answers. Why are you so intent on pleasing Knatchbull?’
George strode over to the opposite side of the room and poured himself a drink. ‘You are very insistent today, Your Grace.’ He had on that smile. The mocking one that she hated, and she was done with being dismissed.
‘Yes, I am,’ she said. ‘You have been sharing growing secrets with Knatchbull, in addition to sabotaging my plans, and I want to know why.’
‘Oh, you and your petty plants.’ He took a swig. ‘I really am getting so bored. I was assured they would keep you quiet, but they seem to do rile you up most terribly.’
‘I wish I could pursue my growing quietly,’ said Thea. ‘But it seems that you feel like anything of ours is Knatchbull’s right.’
‘And why not?’ asked George, shrugging. ‘I thought you types were all about sharing secrets? I thought you would be glad to share with someone who could do something useful?’ Thea took a deep breath in, trying to control herself.
‘But why?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice level. ‘You hate the man, so why take everything I have to benefit him?’ She came close to mentioning Martha and their time apart through the interception of the letters and packages and checked herself. He didn’t need to know she knew about that. Not yet.
‘Isn’t he the one with the guns?’ piped up a voice from Thea’s right. Thea stared at Miss Bellegarde. She had almost forgotten she was there.
‘Guns and more,’ said Thea. ‘He trades on equipment of war and the subjugation of slaves.’
‘Nasty,’ said Miss Bellegarde, taking a sip of her tea. ‘George hates him. Do you want some tea? It’s Kangra – delicious.’
Thea fixed her with a polite but strained smile. It was possible that Miss Bellegarde knew her husband better than she did. ‘No, thank you,’ she said tightly. ‘And I know that they hate one another, I have to stand with them while they do their ridiculous political dance, but I should like to know why.’
‘Oh, me too,’ said Miss Bellegarde, sitting forward as if this was all a game to her.
George sighed, as if it were an irritation to him that his wife and mistress were in agreement. ‘It is a political issue that neither of you could understand. It is not worth relating.’
