Grace. I look forward to a lucrative business relationship.”
After the piece of filth left, Rhystan clenched his fists, resisting the ferocious urge to flip the desk over. Calm, he needed to be calm. And he needed to think. There was no way he was going to pay a fortune—he glanced at the obscene number written on the paper. Blackmailers like Markham did not go away.
“Morton,” he called out and wrote out two quick notes on pieces of parchment.
“Yes, Your Grace?” the butler asked.
“See that these get to Mr. Longacre and Gideon Ridley down at the Green Stag on the north bank of the Thames at once.” He paused, eyes narrowing on his butler. Servants were excellent sources of information. “I need to know everything there is to know on that man who was just here, Markham. Any and every detail about his dismissal. Pay who you have to.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
“And call for my carriage,” he added. A little reconnaissance at his club wouldn’t hurt.
* * *
“How on earth anyone can imagine that using this racquet to hit a shuttlecock over a patch of lawn while sweating one’s thighs off underneath all these layers is entertaining is utterly beyond me.” Ravenna collapsed on the bench beside Sarani, her face flushed with exertion. She gulped down a glass of cool lemonade.
“Battledore and shuttlecock is wonderful exercise,” Sarani said, lifting a brow after Ravenna’s rather indelicate burp. It was a good thing that Asha was their chaperone, though they did not really need one in the privacy of their gardens. She had heard much worse from her own mistress, especially when she and Tej used to have contests to see who could belch the longest.
“Saying that word is unseemly, Ravenna,” Clara, Ravenna’s bosom friend, chided, walking over with her own racquet in hand after retrieving the feathered cork that had been trapped in a bush.
“Cock?” Ravenna asked. “Sara said it, too.”
Clara blushed and then clapped a hand to her mouth. “No, the women’s body part, and Lady Sara said shuttlecock, which is entirely different, as you well know.”
Ravenna grinned. “Don’t be a prude for Sara’s sake. Besides, how is ‘thighs’ beyond the pale? Sara’s been teaching me much worse words she learned on my brother’s ship. She’s one of us, truly.”
Clara looked uncertain, and Sarani almost laughed. With friends like Penelope, no wonder the girl wasn’t sure whether she would be summarily shunned for not exercising proper decorum.
“The East India Company officers in India used to call the game poona.”
Clara plopped down beside them in a flurry of muslin skirts, eyes widening with interest. “What was it like? Living there?”
“Hot,” Sarani said with a laugh, fanning herself. “But a different kind of heat than here. There were the same rules for the nobility in court of course—dresses, petticoats, and the like.” She speared a glance at Ravenna, who was listening intently. Sarani was grateful that the girl had been true to her word and not mentioned her other royal half. “But in the villages, it was so vibrant. The women wore draped garments of woven silk and cotton in so many colors.” She lowered her voice. “Some of them did not wear undergarments beneath the wrap. At least until English concepts of modesty demanded that they wear a blouse called a choli.”
Ravenna’s and Clara’s eyes went wide, and then they both collapsed into giggles. “God, what I wouldn’t give not to wear a corset!” Ravenna said. “Sounds divine!”
Ravenna glanced at Asha, who was sitting quietly nearby. “Do you have any of these types of wraps?”
The maid froze, eyes darting to her mistress, but Sarani grinned. “I might have saved one or two. Shall we dress you in one, then?”
Both girls squealed with delight. “Oh, yes, please!”
“Just don’t let the duchess know or she will likely say that I’m corrupting you with my heathen ways.”
They laughed again, and then Clara’s eyes goggled as her laughter turned into awkward spluttering, her face going nearly puce while she fought for breath. The reason for her choking was quickly apparent as the duke strode down the garden path toward them.
As always, Sarani’s chest squeezed at the sight of him. She had no idea how a man became more handsome with every passing day, but he did. Today he wore a navy coat that hugged his broad shoulders, a silver-stitched waistcoat, and gray striped trousers. His hair was windblown and his cheeks flushed as though he’d just been out on a bracing ride. He looked downright edible.