The Duchess War (Brothers Sinister #1)(102)

He conveyed her to the divan at the head of the room, seated her, and then sat himself.

The divan was on a little bit of a raised platform.

Minnie looked around, taking them all in. “Well,” she said. “I suppose this is as close as I’ll come to a throne.”

That drew a surprised laugh from the crowd.

“You’ll have to excuse me, gentlemen.” Her voice was quiet, so quiet that everyone strained forward to hear her. “I’ve asked for silence. My voice is not loud, and I am nervous.”

A hand went up at that. “Are you afraid of what truths we might uncover?”

A bold question to pose to her face. Minnie didn’t flinch.

“No,” she responded simply. “My fear is more primal in origin. When I was twelve…” She paused, took a measured breath, and continued. “Well, I believe you all know what happened when I was twelve, from my father’s statement in the courtroom to the mob that surrounded me afterward. They left me with this scar.” She touched her cheek. “Ever since then, large groups have made me faint of breath. I cannot bear to have so many eyes looking at me without remembering that time. In fact, I’m grateful for you all taking shorthand. It’s far better than having you stare at me en masse.” She said it with a deprecating smile, but her fingers were still tightly clenched around Robert’s.

Pens scribbled away at that. They wouldn’t detect what Robert could see so clearly—the pallor of her cheeks, the light pink of lips that were usually rose.

“Even now,” Minnie said, “all these years after, thinking about it makes my hands tremble.” She disentangled her hand from Robert’s and held it up in proof. “If there were ten more of you, I am not sure I could do this. And if you were shouting, I might actually pass out.” She gave them another smile. “That is what happened in the courtroom today.”

“How will you attend balls, parties—the sort of gatherings where duchesses are obligated to make appearances?”

“I am sure,” Minnie said, “that I will receive many kind invitations from my peers for precisely those events.”

They’d discussed that exact question, going over it again and again, until each word was perfect.

“I am also sure,” she said, “that everyone will understand that when I refuse those invitations, no malice is intended. Over the course of the next few years, however, my husband and I will be hosting a series of smaller events. I will be overseeing a number of my husband’s charitable concerns, and I feel confident that I will come to know many of my peers that way.”

“And you’re not afraid that you’ll be shunned for your prior history?”

“I’m sure there are some who will not wish to know me. But my situation no doubt means that my circle of acquaintances will be, by necessity, exclusive. If any woman wishes to withdraw herself from contention for a place there, she is more than welcome to do so.” She smiled at the gathered men.

As she spoke, they transcribed her words in shorthand. They would appear verbatim in half the papers around the nation. But while they all wrote, a few men lifted their heads to look at her.

She looked undoubtedly feminine; she’d shown them a weakness and put them at ease. But the gray-haired reporter on the side—Parret, Robert thought he was—was giving Minnie an interested look. He’d been covering London gossip and politics for longer than either of them had been alive, and he was perhaps recognizing what Robert already knew. The Duchess of Clermont had just issued a challenge to the ladies of London. She wasn’t going to beg for their company or grovel for their good opinion. Her friendship was a singular, original honor, and she would bestow it with care.

Parret raised his hand. “Your Grace,” he said, “was your talent for chess a…childhood fluke? A fraud?”

A little smile played across her face, this time genuine. “No,” she said simply. “It wasn’t.”

He raised an eyebrow and contemplated her. “You said you were nervous. You don’t look nervous.”

“When I used to feel anxious, I would once tell myself that I felt nothing. It helped, a little, until I could get away by myself.” Her hand folded around Robert’s. “Now I know I’m not alone. And that helps even more.”

Not alone.

It wasn’t just her hand in his, their bodies side by side on the divan. It was a sense that they were facing not just this trial together, but a life. It wouldn’t be easy. It wouldn’t even always be fun. But even at the worst times, it would be better for her by his side.

Not alone. It filled him, that certainty. To their side, Oliver was smiling faintly. Minnie set her other hand atop Robert’s, and for a second, he looked into her eyes. When this was finished—when they’d sent these men running to tell the world that the Duke and Duchess of Clermont were a force to be reckoned with—he’d show her how not-alone she was.

He’d leave the necklace on, he decided. Everything else…

“Your Grace,” someone asked, interrupting his reverie, “if we could talk about those handbills? What was your intention with them?”

“Ah, yes,” Robert said. “It’s quite simple. I’m a duke. As such, I consider myself responsible for not just my own welfare, but that of the entire country.” He smiled, met his brother’s eyes, and leaned forward. “If we silence those who wish to speak, how can I do my job? Captain Stevens’s arrest was just the beginning.”