“That he supposedly caught from his infant son. Me. Yet I didn’t die of it. Don’t you find that strange?”
“What are you saying?” Heywood asked. “That your father was poisoned?”
“I don’t know. I just think it’s worth looking into.” Grey shot Beatrice a veiled look. “We did suspect at one point that your uncle Armie might have been murdered, too, though we have no evidence to support that theory.”
“Good God,” Sheridan said. “This is . . . I am astonished. A span of thirty years in which someone systematically murdered all of Mother’s husbands and Uncle Armie—that seems incredible. You’ve really thought this out, I see. Though perhaps you’re drawing correspondences where there are none.”
“That may be.” Grey drained his glass. “Anyway, since you brought up Father’s murder, I thought I’d mention it. But we won’t solve the matter this afternoon, and I’m eager to take my wife off somewhere private, as you might guess.”
“Then you’d better run fast,” Sheridan said. “Here comes Joshua. And given that he still resents me, I think I’ll go talk to Vanessa.”
“She’s the pretty one with the black curls, right?” Heywood asked. “I do believe I’ll join you.”
“Holy hell,” Grey muttered, “it’s beginning. Now that Vanessa is free to marry whomever she wishes, the suitors are lining up to court her, especially since she’s an even bigger heiress than before, thanks to me.”
“An heiress?” Heywood said. “Even better.”
He and Sheridan walked off arguing in hushed tones. Beatrice took Grey’s glass and set it on a tray nearby, hoping they could sneak away.
But Joshua didn’t give them the chance, walking up to them just then. “I . . . um . . . wanted to congratulate you both. And Greycourt, I wanted to thank you again for not letting them send me off to hang.”
“Joshua!” she said. “Surely you could put it a bit less bluntly.”
Her brother exchanged a glance with Grey. “See what you’ve done? She’s all hoity-toity now, with her come-out lessons and such.”
Grey held up his hands. “Don’t blame me for that. Blame Mother.”
“And Lady Gwyn,” Joshua said with a scowl.
Beatrice bit her tongue to keep from pointing out that he’d had quite the hungry look on his face while he’d been watching Gwyn dance earlier. He would just deny it.
Joshua tugged at his cravat, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “I also wanted you to know that I appreciate what you did by buying the dower house from Sheridan. At least I don’t have to worry you’ll turn me out anytime soon.”
“He’s not going to turn you out at all,” Beatrice put in. “Not unless he wants me plaguing him for it.”
“And I don’t, trust me,” Grey drawled.
“Well,” Joshua said, “it may take me a while, but I’ll pay you back. Somehow.”
“You don’t have to pay me back,” Grey said. “You’re my brother now. In fact, if you’d like a better position at one of my estates, I’m sure we could find one that would suit a man of your many talents.”
Beatrice could have kissed him for that, but Joshua drew himself up proudly. “I don’t need charity, Your Grace. I’m content in my position here.”
“But Joshua—” Beatrice began.
Grey squeezed her hand to quiet her. “I understand, sir. If you change your mind, let me know.” As her brother nodded, then limped off, headed for the door, Grey murmured, “Leave him with his pride. He thinks it’s all he has.”
“I still say he should take you up on your offer.”
Grey smirked at her. “Ah, but then he’d have to move away from Gwyn.”
That lightened her mood. “True. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Oh, and look over there.” He nodded across the room. “Sheridan seems fit to be tied. Thorn just asked Vanessa to dance, and she accepted.”
Beatrice eyed him askance. “It’s not as if she could turn him down. Remember? That was one of my lessons—no refusing the dukes when they wish to dance with you at balls. As I recall, you drummed that lesson in very well.”
“How else was I to ensure you never refused me when I asked you to dance?”
She tapped her fan against her chin. “That was quite devious of you. I ought to give you a severe tongue-lashing for it.”
He cast her quite the lascivious look. “I tell you what. You give me a tongue-lashing, and I’ll give you one.” He dropped his gaze meaningfully to a particular part of her body, which instantly reacted to his offer. Then his voice turned husky. “What do you think of that, Duchess?”
She