Trials of Artemis (32 page)

Sabre
held the sides of her skirt out, like a fashion plate. "How do you like my
dress?"

Jack
smiled carefully, "I like it quite a lot. Just as much as I did when we
looked at all your new dresses the day after I came to London."

Sabre
turned once and then settled the skirts again, twitching them into place.
"Then you wouldn't look at me and perhaps offer to make me your private
whore?"

"Oh."
Jack's expression sobered considerably. "Well, now that we have the what I
assume what we're going to do with them will be horrible indeed. So who was
it?"

Sabre
stalked over to a tiny damask chair and sat. She fingered the red silk of her
skirts as she smoothed them out. "I don't know."

"Well
that's certainly-"

Jack's
voice was interrupted by the door clicking open again as the countess's young
companion Emmy Hobbes stepped in. No more than eleven, the young Miss Hobbes
was Jack's current project. "Miss Bittlesworth," the girl said,
dropping a passable curtsy.

"Emmy,"
Sabre said with a polite nod.

Jack
sighed. "Emmy, I'm afraid that today is not a social call. Sabre and I
will need some privacy."

"Oh!"
the young girl said, backing away. "My apologies, I didn't mean to
intrude."

"Not
at all," Sabre said, relenting her bad humor over the girl's apparent
concern. "You know I adore you. Who couldn't love a child that takes to
the sword so quickly? But this is... family business, and likely to be quite
boring to you."

Jack
nodded. "It's all right. Take a free morning. Perhaps practice your French?"

As
Emmy nodded and pulled the door closed behind her Sabre leaned back in the
chair. "Luds, Jack, do you even know what a free morning is?"

Jack's
brow furrowed. "That's what I would do on my free mornings as a
child."

Sabre
laughed. "You were never a child. You were once smaller and you knew less,
thank God, but a child? No."

"Tea?"

"You
don't have anything stronger?"

Her
friend raised a sardonic brow and Sabre blew out her breath in a huff.
"Yes, tea would be lovely."

Jack
pulled the bell and then seated herself on the small couch that faced toward
the chair Sabre was in. "And?" she prompted.

Sabre
sat up straight again. "I need your promise, your vow as a Haberdasher,
that you will not share this information with anyone."

"Except
George, I assume."

"Yes,
you may share it among the Haberdashers so if George should finally get herself
back from Scotland you can certainly discuss it with her."

"But
not with Gideon." Jack said it more as a statement than a question.

"No,
not with Gideon." Sabre agreed.

Jack
frowned but nodded. "You have my pledge."

Sabre
nodded just as a discreet knock announced a maid. The girls didn't speak again
until the tea had been settled and Jack was prepared to pour.

"I
assume three sugars today?" the countess asked.

Sabre
smiled again. This was the comfort that she knew old friends could provide.
Someone who knew that stress made her want sweets. Sweets that she regularly
avoided since so much as an extra lump of sugar seemed to go straight to her
hips. With her tiny stature it took diligence to maintain her figure.
"Yes, three sugars today. And that tart if you don't mind."

Jack
smirked. "I wouldn't think you would want to be seen consorting with
tarts."

Sabre
merely snorted. That was the other thing about old friends. They had absolutely
no respect.

"So,"
Jack ventured, after handing Sabre the cup and saucer. "Where did you meet
this man? In the street?"

Sabre
nibbled at the tart. "I'd rather not say."

"Well,
how are we supposed to find him?"

"He's
a duke," Sabre ventured.

"Oh.
Well. That certainly cuts the list down substantially. Are you sure he's a
duke?"

"I
have it on the utmost authority."

Jack
narrowed her eyes, obviously wanting to question her friend further in a
direction that Sabre didn't want to go.

Sabre
sipped her tea and said, "Let's start with what we do know. He's a duke,
about your height I would say."

"Many
men are," Jack said drily.

"Robert's
age or a little bit older. Fair haired, almost as light as Charlie's,"
Sabre said, referring to her second oldest brother, the ever affable and
horse-mad Charles Bittlesworth. "And his eyes are green. A very light
green, a spring green George would probably call them. You would expect such
innocently colored eyes to house a more wholesome soul." Sabre realized
that Jack had become suspiciously quiet and looked over at her friend. The
countess had one hand clasped over her mouth, eyes wide with horror.

"You
know who it is," Sabre accused.

Jack
closed her eyes and let the hand fall away. "Oh Quince, what did you
do?"

Sabre
set down her teacup with a crack and jumped to her feet. "You're telling
me that obnoxious toad that propositioned me this morning is the Duke of
Beloin?"

Jack
nodded, "I think so, yes."

"The
same Duke of Beloin you have been raving about non-stop since I came back from
Italy? That you have been bragging I will meet at next week's ball?"

Jack
shrugged helplessly, "Are you sure you didn't misinterpret what he
said?"

Sabre
loomed over her seated friend and hissed, "Do you want to know what he
said? It was, 'Whatever he's paying you, I'll double it. Triple it. You'll
never want for anything again in your life.' Do you think I misinterpreted that
Jack? Really?"

Her
friend gasped in shock. "That's terrible! I can't believe he would say
that."

Sabre
stalked off to stare out the window. "Either it was the Duke of Beloin or
he has a doppleganger."

"And
who was the 'he' that the duke was referring to? I'm confused, Sabre. Did this
happen this morning? Where?"

Sabre
turned back to her friend. "I've said all I'm going to say on that matter.
Thank you for providing the information I needed."

Jack
launched to her feet as well. "Sabre, I don't like that look. What are you
planning to do?"

Sabre
tilted her chin up. "I'm planning to defend my honor."