Engaging a new mistress would be good, but to do so while he was also publicly selecting a wife would requirea great deal of discretion. It would be a situation fraught with potential for disaster, and he preferred to minimize risk wherever possible.
His gaze fell upon the uppermost envelope on his stack of correspondence. He’d been about to refuse Careby’s invitation; his old school friend’s house parties were infamous for their raucousness, and Justin generally avoided them, finding the dedicated pursuit of drunkenness and pleasure rather puerile.
But now an intriguing possibility struck him.
Careby’s house wasen routeto London. It would be bursting at the seams with disreputable people, both male and female, all looking for a good time.
It was, therefore, the perfect place to find a willing partner for the night. A one-off solution for his physical needs before he arrived in the capital and found himself under the critical gaze of theton.
It would also be a rare opportunity to find a partner who wanted nothing more from him than his body. Here in Bristol, he was instantly recognizable. Women lusted after his bank balance as much as his face. In London, with a dukedom to boot, he’d be lucky to go anywhere incognito, and the women he’d attract would be jockeying for the title of duchess and the elevation in rank he could provide.
At Careby’s, there would be zero chance of inadvertently ruining some innocent and being trapped into a hasty marriage. The women would all be harlots: either professional prostitutes paid to provide entertainment, or bored society wives and widows looking for some racy entertainment a safe distance away from the wagging tongues of London.
Justin pulled a fresh sheet of paper toward him and scrawled a hasty acceptance, then rang the bell for Simms.
His trusted manservant appeared within a suspiciouslyshort space of time, indicating that he’d probably been hovering within earshot just beyond the door.
Justin shook his head. Simms’s ability to lurk had been extremely useful to him over the years. The man seemed to know everything about everyone.
“Post this please, Simms. And tell Walker I’ll be traveling to London tomorrow, with an overnight stop at Hinchcombe Park, Tom Careby’s seat in Bedfordshire.”
Simms, ever unruffled, bowed. “As you wish, Your Grace.”
Justin scowled at use of his new title. “Your reputation for omnipotence—or perhaps I should more accurately call it eavesdropping—remains intact, Simms.”
His fine sarcastic tone had no visible effect on the servant, who merely bowed again with a pleased smile. “You have my sincere felicitations on your good fortune, Your Grace.”
“That’s enough ‘Your Grace-ing.’ ‘Sir’ will do just as well.” Justin handed him the note. “And you needn’t look so smug. You’ll be coming to London with me. Your eyes and ears might come in useful.”
Simms bowed again. “Very good… Your Grace.”
Chapter Two
Hinchcombe Park.
“This is a terrible idea.” Tess made a desperate grab for the leather strap above her head as the carriage bounced along the rutted driveway. “The worst.”
“It wasyouridea,” Daisy reminded her. “And it’s not the worst. Remember the time Ellie disguised herself as a fishwife to catch that man who’d abducted his cousin? That was the worst.”
Ellie gave a theatrical shudder. “I still have nightmares about the smell.”
“Well, it’s definitely second-worst,” Tess muttered. She tugged at the scandalously low-cut bodice of her gown, but her breasts still jiggled above the lace like two of Mrs. Ward’s blancmanges. “I look like a harlot.”
“Wealllook like harlots,” Daisy said happily. “That’s the point. How else are we going to get into this disgraceful event? And how else areyougoing to persuade some handsome-yet-morally-lax stranger to seduce you?”
Tess groaned. “I said I wanted someone tokissme, notseduce me. I can’t risk doing anything that might leave me in an ‘embarrassing situation.’”
Daisy grinned. “There are plenty of wonderful things you can do that won’t result in a child, I promise.”
Ever since Daisy had described in glowing detail her own first amorous encounter with Tom Harding, the cheeky stable hand who’d worked at Hollyfield, Tess had been burningly curious to discover physical pleasure for herself. But she was caught in a terrible dilemma.
As a widow, everyone assumed she’d had a physical relationship with the duke. If she took a lover from among the rakes of theton, the secret of her virginity might be revealed. The resulting gossip would put her in a difficult position regarding the other wives and widows of London. They’d treated her as one of their own, included her in discussions no virgin should ever have heard.
Tess would be labeled an impostor. A brazen, shameful hussy who’d bent society’s rigid rules and pretended to be worldlier than she really was.
Becoming a social pariah wouldnotbe beneficial for the work she did at King & Co.
She, Daisy, and Ellie had started the investigative agency a few months after the old duke’s death. Since women with vocations were generally treated with disdain and suspicion in theton, Tess had suggested that they operate under a male pseudonym. “Charles King, Esquire” was entirely fictitious. The three of them were King & Co.’s sole employees, not that many of their clients were aware of the fact. Whenever anyone asked to see the notoriously elusive Mr. King, they were told he was “out following a lead.”
