Page 46 of His Improper Lady

“You, too?” Alex asked. “The children?”

Desiree launched into the tale of her life in the circus. She enjoyed their eagerness, the friendly atmosphere. She was sure it couldn’t be true of the whole family, of course, but she liked the twins. She said less about their time with Falk, though Con and Alex were interested in that, too—asking her questions about climbing houses and picking locks, even, astonishingly, launching into a comparison of various locks and the ease in opening them.

“You know how to pick a lock?” Desiree asked.

“Oh, yes,” Alex answered. “Tom taught us. Con’s better at it than I, though. He’s had more experience.”

Desiree sent Tom a startled look. “You taught them?”

He shrugged. “It was the only skill I had. Well, besides hooking watches, and I didn’t think they’d have much use for that.”

“Oh, we used that a time or two, as well.” Con sent his brother a laughing glance.

Desiree was no longer surprised when the two were intrigued by her current life, as well. After she finished, the Morelands were silent for a moment, digesting the spate of information.

Con said, “Still, interesting as all that is, we haven’t come up with a name for this alleged Moreland. Unfortunately, there are a number of Morelands—cousins and second cousins and so on...and some whose connection I sincerely doubt,” Con said. “Alex and I are in the wrong generation to know any of the gossip about your father. What we really need is someone who knows all the Morelands and their history.”

Alex nodded. “You’re right. We should talk to Uncle Bellard.”

Tom groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

DESIREE GAZED UP at the huge stone mansion, her stomach tight with nerves. She had been anxious the whole ride to Broughton House, alternately excited and scared, and, underneath it all, disbelieving of what was unfolding around her. Con’s casual assurance that it would “be fine, although the duchess might kick up a bit of a fuss” had not helped ease her fears.

Now, taking in the sight of the largest mansion she had ever seen, she couldn’t help but feel out of her depth. Swallowing hard, she glanced at Tom; however much he disapproved of her, he was the closest thing to support she had here. His expression was somewhat gloomy, but at least he didn’t look scared or hesitant. Desiree would have liked to take his hand for comfort, but, of course, she could not.

A footman greeted the twins with a bow when they walked inside the door. As they handed over their hats, Alex asked for Uncle Bellard.

“In the Sultan Room, sir, with the duchess, having a light luncheon,” the footman responded.

Oh, Lord, she would have no choice but to face the duchess, as well. Desiree pictured a woman vaguely resembling the queen, a white cap atop her iron-gray hair, her mouth set in a thin line as she looked down her nose at Desiree. Desiree stiffened her back. She was not about to back down from some aristocratic harridan.

Still, she was grateful that Tom took her arm as they walked across the marble-floored entry hall and down a wide corridor. Desiree stopped in the doorway and stared. The entire room was done in red, from the textured wallpaper to the velvet couches to swags of draped material that fell from the center of the ceiling to the walls, giving the appearance of a tent’s interior. Desiree could see why they called it the Sultan Room, though it looked to her more like a bordello parlor. But there was also something warm and comfortable about the space once one became accustomed to its exotic grandiosity.

“Hallo, Mother.” The twins went to the woman sitting behind the tea cart, pouring.

“Con, Alex, my loves.” She set down the teapot and stood up, offering her cheek to each of her sons for a kiss. She was nothing like the picture Desiree had imagined, but she was just as intimidating in her own way.

The duchess was tall and striking, with red hair liberally streaked with gray and a face that retained its beauty even as it aged. Her eyes were bright with intelligence, and she carried herself with the air of a woman sure of herself and her place in the world. It would take a great deal to daunt this woman. Desiree didn’t look forward to presenting her with unpleasant news.

The duchess smiled at her sons with affection, then turned her warmth on Tom and Desiree. “Hello, Tom, I haven’t seen you in quite a while.” She held out her hand to him. “I must thank you for helping that poor couple reclaim their home.”

“Thank you, ma’am. It was no trouble.” A faint line of red stained Tom’s cheekbones, and he smiled at the duchess almost shyly. “It wasn’t hard to prove he’d cheated them out of it.” As the duchess turned her gaze to Desiree, he went on hastily, “Allow me to introduce Miss Desiree Malone to you, ma’am.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Malone. Welcome to our home.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” Desiree had the uneasy feeling that the duchess’s blue gaze could see everything inside her. For one of the few times she could remember, Desiree was thankful Brock had insisted on sending her to a finishing school, for she was able to make a proper curtsy to the older woman.

“Alex, ring for Smeggars, there’s a dear. We need more tea and sandwiches. Come sit down with us. Let me introduce you to Uncle Bellard.”

She led Desiree to one of the sofas where a small old man sat, studying her with great interest. His eyes were bright, his nose prominent, and his white hair was wildly disordered. A pair of spectacles was pushed up to the top of his head.

He sprang to his feet with an agility at odds with his years. “Miss Malone, eh?” He patted around his head and found his glasses, pulling them down to peer at Desiree. “I don’t suppose you’re related to Dennis Malone the entomologist, are you?”

“No, sir, I’m afraid not.”

“Quite all right.” He smiled at her benignly. “Come, sit down.” He gestured toward the sofa. As Desiree took a seat, she saw that one of his shoes was black, the other brown.