Page 13 of A Marquess of No Importance (Inglorious Scoundrels #3)

He was in his element—tall and handsome, with brown hair glinting in the candlelight—gesturing grandly as he regaled his companions with some undoubtedly self-aggrandizing tale, a snifter of the establishment’s finest brandy in one hand and a fat cigar in the other.

He threw back his head and laughed at his own wit, completely oblivious to the murderous stare directed his way.

“Beauford is here,” Melissande observed, as if Theo hadn’t been staring daggers at him.

“Well, of course. He is almost always here.” Theo’s voice carried a note of bitter resignation.

She paused, and Melissande waited, knowing her friend well enough to recognize when she was gathering courage to voice something that had been weighing on her mind.

“Did you know that he’s fired his sixth assistant in as many months? ”

Melissande blinked in surprise. “Fired? Are you certain they haven’t just run off of their own accord? The man is insufferable.”

“Right, it’s possible,” Theo conceded, but her tone suggested there was something more to her words.

“But even if he did fire them all, is it really such a surprise? The man is a complete prig,” Melissande said. “I can’t imagine anyone lasting long in his employ.”

“Yes, that’s true. I was just thinking…” Theo wrinkled her nose and shook her head, leaving her thought unfinished.

“What were you thinking?” Melissande prodded as they reached the curved staircase leading to their offices. Instead of ascending the steps, Melissande leaned her elbow against the banister.

“Have you heard of a Trojan horse?” Theo asked suddenly.

“Of course.” Melissande’s mind began working through the implications. “Do you want him to send a gift to—” She paused, studying Theo’s face with growing alarm. “Are you thinking of sending someone into his household under the guise of being an assistant?”

“Someone, yes,” Theo answered carefully, but something in her tone made Melissande’s stomach clench with apprehension.

Surely Theo wasn’t thinking of infiltrating Beauford’s household herself? It was absolute madness!

“Theo, no,” Melissande cautioned, her voice sharp with worry.

But Theo’s eyes had taken on a fevered intensity. “Just think about it. If someone wanted to destroy a household or ruin someone’s legacy, wouldn’t it be easier to do it from the inside? To learn all their secrets, their weaknesses, their most vulnerable points?”

“He would never hire a woman,” Melissande pointed out.

“Not even with a glowing recommendation from her former employer?” Theo raised an eyebrow. “Who happens to be the most notorious gaming hell owner in all of England.”

Melissande pursed her lips. “You cannot be serious.”

“I’m not,” Theo said with a laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I don’t think this is the best idea, Theo,” Melissande said carefully.

And she didn’t. For one thing, if Theo went through with her plan, Melissande would lose her right-hand woman.

How would she manage the business without her friend?

She fought against the selfishness of her reasoning. Her friend needed her support.

“I agree, it’s not the best idea,” Theo admitted readily enough.

“But you know that I will support you even through your worst ideas,” Melissande added, for loyalty demanded nothing less, even when wisdom counseled otherwise.

“You’re a terrible influence,” Theo said with a more genuine laugh this time.

“And the best friend a woman could ask for.” Her expression grew serious again.

“I’m just tired, Melissande. Tired of watching him night after night, squandering my father’s money like it means nothing.

He destroyed our family and acts like he did nothing wrong. He needs to pay.”

The pain in Theo’s voice cut straight to Melissande’s heart. She understood that rage, that burning need for justice against those who had taken everything and left nothing but ashes behind.

“And we will figure out the optimal way to make that happen,” Melissande reassured her, reaching out to squeeze Theo’s hand. “The right way.”

Theo snatched Melissande’s leather-bound notebook from her hands. “After we deal with your issue, of course. This marquess won’t ensnare himself.”

“After the trip to France, at least,” Melissande agreed, grateful for a brief reprieve. “Give yourself time to think this through properly.”

“And who knows, I might find a better solution with a cooler head,” Theo said, though her tone suggested she was trying to convince herself as much as Melissande.

“Absolutely. You need some time away from London and from Beauford’s insufferably smug face,” Melissande said firmly. “The distance will give you perspective.”

Theo chuckled, already ascending the steps toward her office, flipping through the notebook to make lists of what needed to be accomplished before her departure.

No sooner had Theo disappeared from sight than Anne, one of the younger serving girls, rushed toward Melissande with a piece of paper clutched in her hand, her cheeks flushed from running.

“Miss Monroe,” she said breathlessly, “a postboy brought you a missive. Said it was urgent.”

Melissande took the note, recognizing the expensive paper and the seal immediately. She unfolded it and quickly read the brief message:

Miss Monroe, I will be ready for our trip to Dover in a week, if your offer still stands.

R

A smile tugged at Melissande’s lips despite herself. After days of wondering whether Rivendale would actually summon the courage to pursue his long-lost locket, he had finally made his decision. Anticipation thrummed through her veins.

She hurried toward her private office, her mind already composing her response. The game was truly beginning at last.

Settling at her desk, she dipped her pen in ink and wrote:

I thought you were still wallowing in self-pity.

MM

She sealed the note and called for Anne to have it delivered immediately, then settled back to wait for his reply. She didn’t have to wait long.

Less than an hour later, another letter arrived.

I am. But I have decided to wallow on my way to reclaiming my locket.

R

Melissande couldn’t suppress a laugh. She enjoyed his dry wit.

She picked up a pen and scrawled another note:

Looking forward to traveling with your wallowing self. It promises to be a most interesting journey.

MM