A Dangerous Fortune by Ken Follett Page B

would never do anything to discredit his rival.
    Augusta would have to find ways to do that for him.
    She had no trouble identifying Samuel’s weakness. At the age of fifty-three he was a bachelor, and lived with a young man who was blithely referred to as his “secretary.” Until now the family had paid no attention to Samuel’s domestic arrangements, but Augusta was wondering if she could change all that.
    Samuel had to be handled carefully. He was a fussy, finicky man, the kind who would change his entire outfit of clothes because a drop of wine had fallen on the knee of his trousers; but he was not weak, and could not beintimidated. A frontal assault was not the way to attack him.
    She would have no regrets about injuring him. She had never liked him. He sometimes acted as if he found her amusing, and he had a way of refusing to take her at face value that she found deeply annoying.
    As she moved among her guests, she put out of her mind the irritating reluctance of her nephew Hugh to pay court to a perfectly suitable young girl. That branch of the family had always been troublesome and she was not going to let it distract her from the more important problem that Micky had alerted her to, the threat of Samuel.
    She spotted her sister-in-law, Madeleine Hartshorn, in the hall. Poor Madeleine, you could tell she was Joseph’s sister, for she had the Pilaster nose. On some of the men it looked distinguished, but no woman could look anything but plain with a great beak like that.
    Madeleine and Augusta had once been rivals. Years ago, when Augusta first married Joseph, Madeleine had resented the way the family began to center around Augusta—even though Madeleine never had the magnetism or the energy to do what Augusta did, arranging weddings and funerals, matchmaking, patching up quarrels, and organizing support for the sick, the pregnant and the bereaved. Madeleine’s attitude had come close to causing a rift within the family. Then she had delivered a weapon into Augusta’s hands. One afternoon Augusta had stepped into an exclusive Bond Street silverware shop just in time to see Madeleine slipping into the back of the store. Augusta had lingered for a while, pretending to hesitate over a toast rack, until she saw a handsome young man follow the same route. She had heard that the rooms above such stores were sometimes used for romantic rendezvous, and she was now almost certain that Madeleine was having a love affair. A five-pound note had persuaded the proprietress of the shop, a Mrs. Baxter,to divulge the name of the young man, Viscount Tremain.
    Augusta had been genuinely shocked, but her first thought had been that if Madeleine could do it with Viscount Tremain, Augusta could do the same with Micky Miranda. But that was out of the question, of course. Besides, if Madeleine could be found out the same could happen to Augusta.
    It could have ruined Madeleine socially. A man who had a love affair was considered wicked but romantic; a woman who did the same was a whore. If her secret got out she would be shunned by society and her family would be ashamed of her. Augusta considered using the secret to control Madeleine, holding over her head the threat of exposure. But that would make Madeleine forever hostile. It was foolish to multiply enemies unnecessarily. There had to be a way she could disarm Madeleine and at the same time make an ally of her. After much thought she had evolved a strategy. Instead of intimidating Madeleine with the information, she pretended to be on her side. “A word to the wise, dear Madeleine,” she had whispered. “Mrs. Baxter cannot be trusted. Tell your viscount to find a more discreet rendezvous.” Madeleine had begged her to keep the secret and had been pathetically grateful when Augusta willingly promised eternal silence. Since then there had been no rivalry between them.
    Now Augusta took Madeleine’s arm, saying: “Come and see my room—I think you’ll like it.”
    On the