My Plain Jane (The Lady Janies #2)(63)

And then the duke rose to embrace Mr. Blackwood as warmly as if he were his son.

“Alex, my boy,” he said. “I am so pleased to see you. You’re later than I expected.”

“I was delayed,” replied Mr. Blackwood. “I have much to tell you.”

The duke turned to gaze at Charlotte. “But first . . . She’s quite small of stature, just as you said. But lovely. The spectacles are . . . a nice touch.”

Charlotte felt herself smiling and blushing. So Mr. Blackwood had written to Wellington about her. And favorably, it seemed. “Your Grace.” She attempted an awkward curtsy. “How do you do?”

“My dear.” The duke crossed to her and took her small hand between his large ones. He was smiling, too. “It is an honor to meet you at last. Alexander has told me of your many impressive abilities.”

Her abilities? Well, yes, she definitely had abilities. At the moment she couldn’t quite recall what they were, but she knew she possessed them. “Thank you, sir. It is an honor to meet you as well.”

“I am delighted that you have decided to join our austere organization.”

She glanced at Mr. Blackwood, then Bran, her spirits soaring. “So you wish me to be inducted into the Society,” she said eagerly. “I knew it.”

“Of course. It’s highly unorthodox for us to initiate a woman,” said the duke. “We hire female employees very rarely. We had a case with a female agent some years ago that did not end particularly well, but I am willing to credit that failure to the unsuitable constitution of that particular woman, rather than assign blame to the gender as a whole.”

The duke was quite a reasonable man, Charlotte concluded.

“So with that I would bid you welcome to the Society for the Relocation of Wayward Spirits,” finished the duke. “We are so very glad to have you, Miss Eyre.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Your Grace . . .” she began, her stomach plummeting.

“There’s been a mistake, sir.” Mr. Blackwood stepped in. “This is not Miss Eyre.”

The duke frowned and backed away from her. “What? Not Miss Eyre? Well, then who the devil is it?”

“This is Charlotte Bront?,” Mr. Blackwood said stiffly, pronouncing the Bront? part of Charlotte’s name as though it had a strange significance. “She has proven herself vitally useful in my current assignment.”

“She is my sister, Your Grace,” Bran added helpfully.

Charlotte lifted her glasses. The duke was staring at her with an expression that Charlotte found completely unreadable. A mixture of annoyance and curiosity, perhaps?

“But what about Miss Eyre?” he asked. “Are you not still convinced that she is a Beacon?”

“Miss Eyre is definitely a Beacon.”

“Then why do you bring me Miss Bront?, instead? Is she a Beacon? Or a seer, at the very least?”

“No, sir.” Alexander cleared his throat lightly. “But as she is a relative of Mr. Bran—of Branwell Bront?’s, perhaps the trait is also in her blood. I do not believe that Miss Bront? has ever experienced death or resurrection, so it is impossible to know for sure.”

The duke gazed at Charlotte again, like it might be worthwhile to temporarily kill her, just to find out. She swallowed.

“Miss Bront? possesses a rare wit and a suitable disposition for the type of work that is done within the Society,” Mr. Blackwood added quickly. “I would unreservedly recommend her for induction into our ranks.”

“Oh, you would?” The duke looked from Mr. Blackwood to Charlotte and sighed. “And what do you do, Miss Bront??”

“Well, sir, I—” Write things had been what she had been about to say, but then she thought better of it. “I excel in matters of observation. And I could use these powers of observation to solve mysteries.”

“What mysteries?”

Well. She hadn’t actually solved any mysteries yet. She glanced at the floor. “I am also very good at making plans. Strategy. When Mr. Blackwood needed to make an entrance to Thornfield Hall, for instance, I—”

“I see.” The duke looked less than impressed. He kept staring at her glasses, which she’d had to hold to her face for the duration of this entire conversation in order to see what was going on. She supposed she did appear rather silly.

She lifted her chin. “Sir, I would consider it the greatest honor to be of use to the Society.”

“Of course you would,” he said. “It is the greatest honor, and not to be bestowed on a whim.” He turned abruptly back to Mr. Blackwood. “But what of Miss Eyre? If you still believe her to be a Beacon, why did you not return with her?”

“Miss Eyre is one of the most astute seers of the otherworldly persuasion that I have yet to come across,” Mr. Blackwood said. “And yes, I believe her to be a Beacon.”

“What’s a Beacon?” Bran piped up.

Poor Bran, thought Charlotte. Nobody tells him anything. “A Beacon is a special type of seer, dear, who attracts the ghosts and can even command them.”

“Command them?” Bran looked hurt that she would know such a thing, when he didn’t.

“Ghosts seem incapable of refusing a direct order from a Beacon,” said Alexander. “When a Beacon tells a ghost to do something, he must do it.”