Duchess of Seduction (Hearts in Hiding 3)

Cressida’s heart sank. Millie, the parlormaid always adopted that tone when it was Catherine. Disdainful and

under sufferance. It was just the way Cressida felt only she was too well bred to show it.

“Please, show her in.”

A visit from her cousin was the last thing she desired but Catherine was never one to wait. Even if Cressida had instructed the parlor maid to say that her mistress was out, Catherine would have barged in before Cressida had a chance to escape.

And then there’d have been hell to pay.

So, as Catherine breezed into the drawing room and settled her lanky, horsey frame onto the green plush sofa, remarking, “You don’t look at all yourself, Cressy, darling. Surely you’re still not mulling over what we spoke about the other night,” Cressida had to dig her fingernails into her palms to restrain any possibly unwise remark.

Four long days ago. The longest of her life.

“Of course not.” She hoped she sounded chilly enough to deflect the subject or that she could come up with inspiration for something to divert Catherine who was always like a dog with a bone when she discovered a person’s raw nerve.

“Well, I sincerely hope you’re not,” Catherine said, almost brightly as she pulled the bell rope to order tea for them both. She’d always behaved as if she owned the place. “You forget how lucky you were, Cressy, that you were able to follow your heart, marry money and that you retained your husband’s interest for so long. Just because Justin has taken a mistress doesn’t mean you are less to him than you ever were. He just wants more. Like most men.”

Cressida glared at her cousin and darted a quick glance about her to make sure none of the servants was in earshot. “I don’t for one minute believe he’s taken a mistress, Catherine. But since you’ve clearly decided he’s consorting with this Madame Zirelli, perhaps you’d like to tell me a bit about her. I’ve never heard of her.”

She was encouraged by the skepticism with which she managed to lace lace her tone, disappointed when Catherine responded matter-of-factly, “Neither had I, until Annabelle told me the curious story of Miss Hardwicke’s uncle’s determination that Madame Zirelli sing at his niece’s wedding.”

“Miss Hardwicke’s uncle? Sir Robert, do you mean?” Cressida frowned. She’d heard Annabelle mention this illustrious member of the family who’d made a great fortune across the seas and had never been back to England.

“That’s right. Well, he’s coming back for Miss Hardwicke’s wedding, and of course Annabelle is doing all the organizing as Miss Hardwicke’s poor mother is on her deathbed—”

“But what’s Sir Robert got to do with Madame Zirelli?” What did this have to do with Justin? Cressida leaned forward to quiz her. Catherine was wrong.

“Well, Sir Robert has lived abroad the past sixteen years, in case you didn’t know, and he’s returning for the wedding but with the oddest request. He charged Annabelle with the task of hunting down the finest soprano in all England and has especially instructed Annabelle to seek out this Madame Zirelli.” Catherine leaned back and her voice took on an edge of scorn. “Of course, Annabelle’s husband took over the search after Annabelle learned of Madame Zirelli’s...well, unsavory past...and it led him to Mrs. Plumb’s house of ill repute.”

“Then naturally Justin is merely helping to locate this Madame Zirelli.” That was it! What a joyful discovery!

Catherine raised an eyebrow. “And it would seem Justin knew just where to look.” She sighed as if her cousin were displaying the greatest ignorance.

“Surely, Cressida, you can’t imagine your husband led a blameless life before he whisked you down the aisle? Be glad his name is associated with only this one woman. Why, James—”

But Cressida wasn’t interested in James. James was a whore- monger. Innocent though she was, she’d heard the label used in association with her cousin’s husband, and for that reason alone, she must try and feel some sympathy for Catherine, who’d never known the love and loyalty Cressida had taken for granted all these years.

At last Cressida had discovered the logic behind the terrible innuendo and she’d never felt stronger. “I’m sorry, Catherine, but I don’t take everything at face value like you do. Justin is deeply loyal. I have never found fault with him as either a husband or a father.” Her thoughts trailed away. It was true, though, that she knew nothing of Justin’s female associations before she’d married him.

But then a terrible thought occurred and without stopping to think, she blurted out, “This Madame Zirelli...if indeed Justin did have an association with her... Perhaps she was not someone he could marry?

?” The idea of Justin losing his heart to someone else before her time but being unable to follow his inclinations was a terrible one and put their entire marriage in a new light.

“Without wishing to sound unkind, you were hardly a glittering prospect, Cressy.” With some slight consideration for the bluntness of this assessment, Catherine hurried on at her cousin’s injured look, reminding her of what Cressida had always taken comfort in. “Justin lost his heart to you the moment he saw you, and, despite all the persuasion that could be exerted, he married you, penniless though you were. This Madame Zirelli was married to Lord Grainger, though I believe their divorce was being finalized when she and Justin— Well, anyway, suffice to say you must forget this foolish idea that Justin is returning to some long-lost love.”

Cressida closed her eyes briefly, opening them on a smile as Mille returned bearing the tea tray .

“I’ll pour,” she murmured, leaning over to perform the niceties while her mind whirled over a million possibilities.

“You’ll pour.” Catherine gave a world-weary sigh. “Is that all you can say? Is that all you can do?”

Helplessly, with the tea pot in mid air, Cressida stared at her cousin. “What else can I do?”

“You can tackle Justin on the matter or you can investigate. The latter is what I’d do.”

“But I’m not you and we’re so—”

Catherine was staring at her with raised eyebrows. “Different?” she supplied. “Yes, I’m the brazen siren and you’re the insipid shepherdess yet do we not both seek the same thing? Satisfaction?”