The Counterfeit Mistress by Madeline Hunter Page B

about it, and I have reason to think that this one, for all his grace and condescension, is very cruel. At least he finally cropped his hair, I will give him that. He must be the last man younger than forty to do so. He also appears to have ordered coats in the current fashion as well. It was about time. He is too young to look like an antiquity.”
    â€œHe waited to adopt the new styles deliberately, and not for lack of fashion sense or because he did not care for the changes.” If anything, Penthurst fit the new styles well, and vice versa, and his dark cropped hair, which Kendale was glad to see he did not fuss with overmuch, flattered his countenance.
    â€œIt was perverse arrogance, is what you mean,” Lydia said. “A way to say he was above it all, and does not need anyone’s approval.”
    Lady Sophie had rather suddenly remembered her age. “I knew your mother,” she said to the duke in a voice amplified by wine. “She owned some lovely jewels, as I recall.”
    â€œMy father was fond of giving her gifts.”
    â€œI recall one brooch in particular. She often wore it on a mantle of deepest scarlet. It had pearls on it. Many small ones around one so large—well, I have never seen the likes since. I expect you still have it.”
    â€œI am sure I do, although I have not counted the family jewels in some years.”
    â€œIt was gorgeous. Unique. She preferred town, as I remember. I expect it is still in the jewel box she used here before she passed.”
    â€œMost likely.”
    â€œShe also wore an emerald, set in a gold ring, surrounded by tiny diamonds. Stunning.”
    â€œYou have a better memory of my mother’s jewelry than I do, I must confess.”
    â€œI make a study of jewels. I find them fascinating. I always have. It is a pity that hers sit there in that box, never seeing the light of day or night.” She sent her attention down the table. “Cassandra, we must call on the duke when next we are out.”
    Penthurst nodded kindly. Cassandra’s blue eyes narrowed on her aunt with curiosity and an inexplicable caution. “Certainly, if he requests it.”
    â€œI would be honored,” he was good enough to say.
    â€œWhen we visit, you can show me the jewels, Your Grace.”
    Cassandra’s face reddened. “Jewels?”
    â€œHis mother’s,” Sophie said. “They languish unseen and unloved. I think they are lonely.”
    â€œHis Grace does not want to have us pawing through his mother’s jewel box, I am sure.”
    â€œLady Sophie, you are welcome to visit the jewels whenever you like. I will tell the butler to bring them down to you, should I not be at home when you call,” Penthurst said.
    Lady Ambury caught her husband’s eye. Again something passed between them. She stood abruptly, signaling the ladies that it was time to leave the gentlemen.
    T he cigars were half smoked before Kendale found himself talking alone with Penthurst. Southwaite and Ambury arranged it to happen. They drifted away five minutes after luring him into a discussion about the war. He realized that quite likely the only matchmaking intended by this dinner was that between the two men now pretending that social conversation remained normal for them.
    If they did not mention the reason that was not true, the next ten minutes might go well. If Penthurst had the sense not to allude to it, let alone name it, there would be no row.
    â€œYour opinions about the war are insightful,” Penthurst said. “No doubt your time in uniform gives you a special perspective.”
    â€œThe War Office has men in uniform, or who used to be. Generals. I doubt my perspective is better than theirs.”
    â€œTheirs is colored by ambition. That always qualifies the value of such things. It can fog the perspective badly.”
    He was supposed to be flattered. He was, although the reaction carried a good deal of resentment