“Think of all the things you can do now you’re a duchess,” Ellie murmured, almost as if reading her thoughts.
“You could start a charity,” Daisy suggested. “Isn’t thatwhat rich widows do? Open a hospital for orphaned puppies, wounded veterans, and fallen women.”
“All in the same building?” Tess teased. “Wouldn’t the soldiers trip over the puppies?”
“And wouldn’t the harlots fallontothe veterans?” Ellie chuckled.
“It wouldn’t be the worst thing.” Daisy shrugged. “In fact, it’s a brilliant idea, now I think about it. Flirting with women and playing with dogs are both excellent reasons for the veterans to recover. I bet our rehabilitation rates would be incredible.”
Tess shook her head. “You are absurd.”
“But brilliant.” Daisy grinned. “Admit it.”
“Yes, that, too.”
Tess pleated the sheets as determination unfurled inside her. “I’ve spent nineteen years being told what to do, with no control over my own fate, and Ineverwant to feel that way again. From now on, I’m going to do what makes me happy, not what pleases someone else.”
“Bravo!” Daisy clapped.
“But,” Tess continued, “think of all the women whocan’tchoose. We know scores of girls who’ve been bullied or manipulated by the men in their lives. What if I use my new position to help those who haven’t been so lucky?”
Daisy raised her brows. “It’s a nice idea, but you’d have to be discreet.”
“We’dhave to be discreet,” Tess amended. “I couldn’t do anything without the two of you.”
Ellie’s eyes sparkled with excitement at the prospect of a new challenge. “We do make an excellent team. And you know how much I like justice.”
“And you know how much I like annoying men.” Daisy chuckled.
Tess smiled at her two best friends, grateful beyond words to have them in her life. “So this plan has something for everyone. Are you with me?”
Neither Ellie nor Daisy hesitated for a moment.
“Absolutely.”
Chapter One
Two years later.
Spring, 1816. Thornton Shipping & Trading. Bristol.
“The Duke of Wansford? Me?”
Justin Thornton sent a scornful glare at the black-clad apparition hovering in the doorway of his study. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
The solicitor clutched his leather satchel to his chest. “I realize that this is unexpected, given your distant connection to the deceased, but there’s no doubt. None at all.”
Justin pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on. He’d only been back in England for a month, and he had a hundred things to do today. Why was he wasting precious time listening to the ravings of this clearly deranged individual? How had the man even managed to get past Simms?
He glared at the intruder. “Mister…?” he tailed off with an expectant lilt.
“Turnbull,” the lawyer provided instantly. “Josiah Turnbull. Of Turnbull, Blomfield, and Brown. We are the executors of the late duke’s estate.”
“Mister Turnbull. Explain to me how, exactly, you have arrived at this erroneous conclusion.”
The younger man pushed his spectacles higher on his nose and gestured toward Justin’s desk. “If I may?”
Justin gave a permissive wave of his hand, and the man stepped forward. He pulled a sheaf of yellowing papers from the satchel and spread them on the leather top. Justin glanced down at what appeared to be a family tree, with lines and names neatly recorded and an official-looking wax seal on a ribbon at the bottom.
