The Duchess Takes it All

Chapter One

Tamsin Palmer, the recently widowed Duchess of Clevesly, glanced nervously about the avenue before climbing down from her carriage and into the carriage that had pulled up alongside hers.

Lady Georgina Reddington, sister of the Duke of Beaubrooke and Tamsin’s closest friend—and secret collaborator—gave her an exasperated smile. “Really, my dear, one would think you were trying to draw suspicion. We are simply two friends who have come upon each other while out and have stopped to have a chat.”

“If that were all this was, I wouldn’t be nearly so anxious.” Tamsin let out a long breath as the carriage set off with a lurch.

“As far as anyone knows, that is all this is. They won’t think otherwise as long as you stop acting as though you are doing something nefarious.”

“I am doing something nefarious,” Tamsin whispered.

“Yes, darling, but you mustn’t act so.”

Georgie flashed her a grin that had Tamsin laughing. Georgie was rarely serious about anything and had an infectious way about her. Tamsin couldn’t help but relax in her presence. Even when she carried something that could destroy everything she’d been working toward if it were discovered.

The danger and intrigue would be worth it, though, if she could change the mindset of even one member of the ton . The world would never change if those who ran it didn’t recognize the errors of their ways. The fact that she was now one of that elite group, thanks to the marriage her father had bought and paid for, didn’t change her wish to make life better for those who needed it.

“You’ve finished the new one, then?” Georgie asked, nearly bouncing on her seat with excitement.

“Just this morning, and not a moment too soon. Rupert’s cousin is expected any day now.”

Georgie frowned. “The one he made trustee of the estate?”

Tamsin nodded. “The last thing I need or want is some stranger poking his nose into my affairs just because my husband didn’t see fit to give me charge of the estate until my son reaches his majority.”

Though, to be fair, her husband hadn’t known her well enough to realize his preconceived notions of a woman’s intelligence were completely incorrect. She and Rupert had only met once or twice before the wedding, and aside from his rather…efficient visits to her bedchamber in the quest for an heir, he hadn’t made much attempt to spend time with her after their wedding, either. He’d dumped her in the country “for the babe’s health” once she’d conceived, while he’d stayed in London, and he’d died scarcely a year later. They’d remained virtual strangers until his death.

“How will you continue with all this once his cousin arrives?” Georgie asked.

Tamsin blew out a breath. “I do not know. But I’ll think of something. Perhaps he can be persuaded that his presence is not required.”

Georgie laughed. “Let me know if I can assist in any way. So… Did you bring it?”

“Of course.” Tamsin glanced about again as she opened the large book she’d brought to withdraw the artwork she’d hidden inside.

“Really, darling, the only people likely to see us are my driver or footman. And they would never say anything,” Georgie assured her, taking the sheet and leaning closer to the window to examine Tamsin’s newest political cartoon caricatures in the sun.

“Hmm,” Tamsin said, a tad jealous Georgie had that certainty of her servants’ loyalty. “I will take your word for it.”

Georgie gave her a sympathetic glance. “Is your staff still making your life miserable?”

Tamsin let out a breath. “Things have…improved. Here in London, at least.”

“All the more reason to stay out of the country, then, yes?” Georgie asked with a teasing grin.

Tamsin laughed quietly. “Indeed.”

She had spent the last six months since her husband’s death replacing the staff at her London residence with those who were less bothered by her humbler beginnings. The staff that had been in place during her marriage had found it downright insulting to be expected to wait upon the daughter of a merchant, no matter the size of her dowry or her new title.

And they hadn’t been shy letting their feelings on the matter be known. More than one had quickly found employment elsewhere as soon as she had become their mistress. She couldn’t blame them, really. The staff at large houses and estates took a lot of pride in their work and who they served. Presenting them with a new duchess without a drop of genteel blood in her veins had been more than most of them could stomach.

The staff at her country estate would still rather serve the pigs than their new duchess. One of many reasons she tried to stay in town as long as possible. The London staff now in place were respectful to her, and loyal as far as she knew. But that didn’t mean she wanted to test that loyalty. Her position was rather strained as it was.

Few people deigned to call nowadays, aside from Georgie and her family. Most of Tamsin’s peers preferred to ignore her existence. Their grudging acceptance of her had evaporated into bare tolerance once her husband Rupert, the late Duke of Clevesly, had died. And even that tolerance would quickly disappear if they were to discover her secret pastime.

Georgie chuckled, and Tamsin looked up with a grin, pride flooding her as it always did when her work was admired. Nothing else gave her such a feeling. “Do you like it?”

“Oh, this one is good,” Georgie said. “I rather enjoy when you go rogue.”

Tamsin laughed. Georgie, as the only person who knew that Tamsin was the mysterious face behind the Anonymous Bartholomew caricatures, often helped her, providing the subject matter or text of the cartoon while she did the art. As Georgie had more opportunity to be at social events while Tamsin was in mourning, she was in a better position to observe good material for use in the caricatures. But occasionally inspiration would strike, and Tamsin would create something on her own. Such as her newest.

“Cheeky of you to do one about Prince Heinrich, with his visit looming,” Georgie said, her eyebrow raised.

Tamsin shrugged with a mischievous grin. “Perhaps. But it is rather ridiculous to see everyone falling all over themselves for a foreign prince whom no one has ever met.”

“True,” Georgie said, taking another look at Tamsin’s artwork.

It depicted caricatures of Prince Heinrich, the prince of some tiny Germanic territory few had heard of, and their own Prince Regent dancing the night away at an exaggeratedly luxurious ball. A gaggle of cartoonishly coiffed women piled up at the gated doorway, waving their invitations to the ball in the air as they waited to enter. And pressed against the windows were the gaunt faces of the starving masses.

“An excellent indictment against those who think of nothing but frivolity.”

Tamsin nodded. “I hoped it would portray the right message.”

“Oh, it will do that.” Georgie examined the paper again. “The engraving experiment didn’t work, then?”

“No.” Tamsin frowned at the thought of her ill-fated attempts to engrave her own copper sheets for the printer to use on his press. “It took too long. I’m just not properly trained in the technique.” She shrugged. “The printer prefers to use etchings in any case. All he needs from me is the artwork, and his artist can transfer my work over to the metal sheets for etching. It adds a bit more time to the whole process, but the results are far better than my poor attempts at engraving would be.”

Georgie nodded. “And I suppose it is easier to hide your drawings while you are working on them than it would be engraving copper.”

Tamsin gave her a sharp nod. “Precisely.”

A teasing smile played on Georgie’s lips as she looked it over again. “A trifle autobiographical this time, is it?” she asked. “Considering how desperately you yourself wish for an invitation to the prince’s ball.”

“Do I?” Tamsin asked with an answering lilt to her voice. Though they both knew Georgie spoke the truth.

“The timing actually works out rather perfectly,” Georgie continued. “With your period of half-mourning already begun, your mourning will be ending right around the same time as Prince Heinrich’s visit. Just imagine everyone’s faces were you to not only attend the ball in all your post-mourning glory but catch the prince’s eye as well!”

Tamsin laughed at that. “You dream too large, my dear friend. The chances of me even being invited to the ball are slim. Especially with my period of mourning coinciding so closely with his visit. The Prince Regent already has every reason to keep me from attending. And I won’t even dignify your remark about the prince with a response. That is too much nonsense for even I to indulge even if I desired to catch a man’s eye—any man—and I most assuredly do not.”

“Oh.” Georgie waved her words away. “The only thing that is nonsense is your disbelief. You get that invitation to the prince’s ball, and your place in society is all but assured. Merchant papa or no. Leave it to me,” Georgie said with a wink.

Tamsin sighed while Georgie slid the drawing back into its hiding place among the pages of the book. She had no idea how strongly the dichotomy of Tamsin’s two lives ate at her. On the one hand was the merchant’s daughter who had seen more suffering than the elite of her world would ever deign to notice. Who wanted to do nothing more than to make their world a better place but would never be treated with anything but suspicion because of her wealth.

On the other was the duchess, who had grown up alongside the elite of society due to her father’s genius mind and successful businesses. Who had more money than the wealthiest nobleman, who had been sent to all the same schools as the daughters of those noblemen, given all the same advantages, married the highest ranked among them, but who would never be accepted into their ranks because her untitled father had worked for his fortune instead of being born to it.

Neither side wanted her. Yet she spent all her time and energy trying to improve the world of one and be accepted into the world of the other.

Like it or not, she was a duchess now. And her son was a duke. She had been bred for this life as much as any of the ton , and she couldn’t change her position now even if she wanted to. But living always on the outskirts was…lonely. What Georgie said was true. She did crave society’s acceptance. But that didn’t mean she accepted all the aspects of their lifestyle.

And so she drew her caricatures. It was a humorous way to bring attention to the foibles of society. Doing it anonymously would hopefully bring attention to much-needed flaws while keeping her identity safe. The ton might be able to take a joke from one of their own. They wouldn’t tolerate it from her.

“I can’t say you are entirely incorrect,” she finally said. “I do want an invitation to the ball.”

“I knew it!”

“Though I object to the word desperately.”

Georgie chuckled, and Tamsin continued with a sigh.

“But…you are not far off, I suppose. Though not because I wish to see the prince. It is only for what the invitation represents,” Tamsin insisted.

“Hmm, which is?”

“Definitive proof that all my work following every rule, every guideline, toeing every line, and bowing to society’s whims in every way has finally paid off.”

Georgie pursed her lips and nodded sagely, though her eyes danced with merriment. “Don’t you worry,” Georgie said. “Your social calendar will be full to bursting soon enough, I’m sure. And in the meantime, you’ll be growing tired of me. Lavinia and the duke will be at Wrothlake Park for a bit. And you know how he can be when he buries himself in the country with his plants.”

Tamsin chuckled. The Duke of Beaubrooke was a renowned botanist, and it was no secret that he preferred the company of his plants and books to anyone else…aside from his wife, Lavinia, of course. But he did have a tendency to get lost in his research and lose track of time.

“So, while they are whiling away in the country, I have more time to spend with you.”

“I’m so glad,” Tamsin said. “Oh, not that they’ve left you on your own again, of course.”

Georgie gave her that stunning smile that had half the gentlemen of the ton chasing after her.

“But I never tire of your company,” she continued. “Please remember you are always welcome at Clevesly House. And I shall visit you, as well, when I can be sure no one is watching, of course.”

Georgie chuckled and shook her head. “You care far too much over what the society harpies think of you.”

Tamsin pursed her lips, knowing her friend was right. But it couldn’t be helped. “Out of necessity, at least for the moment, I must care.”

Georgie didn’t look as though she agreed, but then she had probably never cared what anyone thought about her. Tamsin often wished she had half of her friend’s self-assurance.

“Oh look,” Georgie said, nodding toward the window. “Your latest seems to be doing well.”

“Shhh,” Tamsin said, leaning back against the cushions to ensure none of the people pressed around the printer’s shop window would see her.

“No one can see in here, you goose,” Georgie said with a laugh.

Tamsin didn’t sit forward, but she did allow herself a peek out the window.

Georgie was right. The crowd around the printer shop seemed abuzz about the latest print that had been added to the window. A few of the wealthier in the crowd had exited the shop with prints in hand. Those who couldn’t afford to buy their own prints were crowded around the window. Several of hers were on display, and judging by the pockets of congestion near those, they seemed to be some of the more popular ones.

“This one will be even more popular, I wager,” Georgie said, patting the book on her lap. “I will make sure it is delivered to the bookseller tonight.”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Tamsin pulled the small pouch of coins from her pocket. “His payment.”

Georgie took the money Tamsin paid the bookseller to act as a go-between with the printer’s shop for them. It looked far less suspicious for a bookseller to be constantly visiting a printing shop than it did for ladies, or their servants, to be doing so. And no one questioned the women or their staff for visiting the bookseller so often. Especially women who were connected to the well-known researchers, the Duke of Beaubrooke and Lord Bainbridge.

“Are you sure it is safe for you to be involved in this?” Tamsin asked, her brow crinkling. “The consequences if you are discovered will be far worse than if it is me.”

“How so?”

“I’m already an outcast. My life probably wouldn’t be too much worse.”

“Perhaps,” Georgie said, a rare frown crumpling her brow. “But it would never get any better, either. If you were discovered to be Anonymous Bartholomew, what little acceptance you’ve found would disappear. You’d end up a recluse in the country with the insufferable staff who hates you, and I cannot allow that.” Her lips pulled into a gentle smile. “Besides, I care just as much about the issues we are highlighting as you. They wouldn’t listen to us if we speak out. So we’ll draw instead.”

Tamsin returned her smile. They were nearly back to her own carriage after driving in an ambling turn about the square.

“Besides, it’s safer for me,” Georgie said. “Until you have a servant or two who you can trust implicitly…it’s best if I handle this part of our little venture.”

Well, that was true enough.

Georgie’s driver pulled back alongside Tamsin’s carriage, and she gathered her reticule, leaving the book with its hidden artwork with Georgie.

She waited as two young boys ran past before opening the door, then threw it open as their words filtered back to her.

“You there!” she called after them. “What did you just say?”

They both stopped, shocked that she was addressing them.

“Nothing, my lady, only that two foreign gentlemen paid us a whole shilling just to help load their bags onto their carriage.”

“Do you know who the gentlemen were?” she asked, her stomach twisting with anxiety.

“No, mum. They talked funny, though. One gentleman said thank you when we was through, but t’other one said…dunka…or somethin’ of the sort.”

Tamsin cursed under her breath, though apparently loud enough for the boys to hear. They burst into peals of shocked laughter and scampered off.

“What’s wrong?” Georgie asked.

“I must hurry.” Tamsin quickly stepped down from Georgie’s carriage and climbed into her own. “I think I may have left my preliminary drawings in the salon. And I’m fairly certain Rupert’s cousin has just arrived.”