Taste of Desire - By Lavinia Kent Page 0,117

look a little off color.”

“I shall be fine.” She opened her eyes wide. “I must admit to being fatigued, but I would not have missed this for anything. And, you must admit, I’ve been a help.”

“Yes, you certainly have – although I am still not quite sure how you knew –“

“I may not be – have been in your business for long, but I have come to know Lady Harburton rather well. I did not know your questions, but I did know her answers.” Marguerite laid her hand upon his arm.

Hearing her name again Lady Harburton sputtered to life. She had been silent, evidently dumbfounded by Lady Smythe-Burke’s comments. “I don’t know how you can say such a thing. I’ve never betrayed England in my life. I even helped knit for the soldiers as well as my endless correspondence. I raised so many spirits. How can you say such things to me?” She downed her tea in one gulp. “I will be going now. I have nothing more to say to any of you. Disgraceful, simply disgraceful the way a lady can be treated in this day and age. I would never have believed it of you, Lady Smythe-Burke. Wimberley I must confess I am not surprised by. Breeding will show, after the way his mother took on with that gardener what else could be expected.”

Lady Smythe-Burke put down her cup with a thump. “And what do you know about that, Minerva? I always wondered if it was you who started those rumors.”

Lady Harburton paled. “I did no such thing. I merely speculated on why such a wonderful gardener wouldn’t come work for me no matter what I offered. There was only one reason he would have stayed with Felicity. She certainly didn’t care for her flowers like I did.”

“I think you have said enough and that it is time for you to leave, Minerva,” Lady Smythe-Burke’s voice was filled with iron.

“Well, I never.” Lady Harburton turned with a flounce. “I refuse to stay to be insulted. I’ll talk to my husband about this.” She marched to the door and slammed out.

Tristan would have stopped her, but Lady Smythe-Burke held up a hand. “What has she really done wrong – no, I do know exactly what she had done – but could you prove it and what good will it do? She has not done anything truly illegal. Immoral and stupid – yes – but what would hold up in court? Besides, I would expect that she was actually rather harmless. If she was waiting for information to arrive by post I must imagine that most of it was far out of date –“

Tristan could only nod.

“—and further we did win the war. If there were evidence that her – her sharing of information led to great loss of life my opinion would differ. Did she? No, then I would suggest you let me and my friends take care of the matter. I would imagine that our displeasure would bring her far greater discomfort than even a few months in the Old Bailey. I can promise that she will be well punished.”

“You are not considering the matter of the Dutch.” Tristan had always know that Lady Smythe-Burke was in truth a steam-locomotive, but never had he felt it used against himself – well there had been the matter of his wedding, but that had been his idea to start with.

“No, I do not forget the Dutch. If I had known you were interested I would have spoken to you before now. I have watched the situation with interest. Huismans has been very careful in whom he approached. He chose only the less bright and most vain of woman. He was quite successful with them, most have worked hard on their husband’s opinions. Silly girls, as if flowers would win them social approval.” Her smile made it clear whose approval they should have been trying to attain.

“If you say they’ve been successful –“

Lady Smythe-Burke cut him off again, “Huismans failed to consider one important factor – stupid women are often married to stupid men who change their votes with the wind anyway, or else husbands who know better than to listen to them. Or, in the case of Minerva, a husband who will probably not bother to vote anyway. Even with her pressure Harburton is unlikely to spend more than a day or two in London during any given season. For all his plotting, Huismans had not a chance of success.”

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