The Devil Duke and Miss. Granger
Chapter VIII- The Devil Among the Fiddlers
Hermione fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat; it had been several days since she met with the Duke in the garden. The days following that encounter had passed in a hectic blur of Astoria's social activities.
There were always callers in the house, and the balls, soirees, and other evening activities that Hermione was obliged to attend as Astoria's companion were far too many to count since this was the height of the fashionable Season in London.
Parliament was also back in session, prompting even those most reclusive of the haute monde to return to their houses in London. 'Twas exhausting, they woke at noon and then spent the rest of the day in a flurry of activities, dress-fittings and agonising over Tori's social calendar.
Hermione had kept her vow of keeping an eagle eye on her younger cousin, which had caused a few contentious words on the part of the young woman, for she was convinced her Marquees was madly in love with her and she with him.
But Hermione was glad she had stuck to her convictions. For thus far, the young man in question had not approached her uncle with a request to court Tori,despite the girl's assurances that he was simply waiting for the right moment.
Even Hermione's last trip to Kensington had been put off due to a massive ball held in the Earl of Hardcastle's home. She was getting mightily sick and tired of following around her young cousin like a dour ghost from one of her novels, but until one knew all the facts about Lord Halifax's intentions, she couldn't leave Astoria alone with him.
Hermione had to admire Astoria's social polish. She was a true Original, beautiful, witty, and in equal measure gossipy and discreet. She favoured enough older and less wealthy gentlemen with dances that she was labelled kind but not enough that any were considered in serious running for her hand. She kept her young gentlemen callers close but their mother's and sisters even closer. Her manners and light footwork on the dance floor was whispered about behind fans.
"They say Miss. Greengrass is the most ardent student of Miss. Skeeter's Guide to A Young Lady's Deportment."
"Extraordinary. The chit's manners are simply exquisite."
"I've heard the Prime Minister himself considered Miss. Greengrass's hand. After all, he is a cit; even a Baron's daughter will have bluer blood than him."
"I've heard her modiste is French, 'tis the height of fashion you know, to have a French dressmaker."
However, talk about her cousin's social success wasn't all that she was listening for. It was astonishing what a woman discreetly hidden in some large house ferns could hear.
The latest gossip Hermione had overheard was that a relatively popular young dandy had been found murdered in the dockyards of Wapping. The young man hadn't been of any great social significance. In fact, it was rather gauche to mention him in Polite Society since he could be considered of the demi-monde. He had been an emigree, one of the many who fled France after Napoleon's defeat.
But the news was titillating enough for his apparent lack of pedigree to be overlooked. The Ton was always searching for the next bit of intrigue to stave off the ennui brought on by the Season in so many of them.
While alive, he wouldn't have been allowed entrance into a ball held in a respectable household, but most aristocrats, both men and women, regularly interacted with the demi-monde. Many chose to assuage their feeling of ennui by living like the bohemians, mingling with artists, musicians, opera singers, actresses. The young man in question had been a poet; Hermione gathered that he couldn't have been very good since his poetry was barely talked about.
Hermione knew that 'twas highly unlikely for Halifax to be involved with something like that but the Duke's unusual request was still at the forefront of her thoughts, making her feel suspicious of all.
She still had trepidations about his request, but she was sick of living her life in this small brown corner. 'Twas not in her nature to stay so passive, she was tired of meekly nodding her head and biting her tongue. She needed something... freedom, maybe and if it meant she had to take a risk... to live a little.
She was ready to plunge in headfirst.
Hermione thought she had managed her chaperoning business quite well thus far. She and Astoria had been effectively stuck at the hip ever since Hermione had decided her cousin's virtue was in imminent danger.
That was until today.
'Twas rare for her aunt and uncle to entertain anyone before the fashionable hour of four in the afternoon. In fact, it was considered rather déclassé to entertain anyone in the morning, but from her aunt's air of excitement, this was clearly a big coup for her.
"Now dear, remember to answer any questions the lady asks you," her aunt muttered out of the corner of her mouth. "This could be a wonderful opportunity for your cousin to broaden her prospects. The lady coming to tea is extremely well connected."
Hermione had been woken at nine in the morning with her aunt glaring down at her critically. Before she was even fully awake, she had been hustled out of bed and stripped, her aunt barking orders to the maids with military precision.
Hermione felt like a prize chicken, all plucked and ready for the stew pot. Even her gown wasn't her own, 'twas was one of her aunt's old ones—a hideous shade of lavender that made her look like a washed-out dishrag.
Hermione snorted quietly; she was eight and twenty not twelve and besides, she had a good idea of where all this was going and was therefore rather meek when her aunt was manhandling her. This wasn't a social call, at least not the kind Hermione was used to.
The Duke's cousin must have called on her uncle. Hermione was keen to know what possible explanation she could have provided for their unorthodox acquaintance. After all she had no idea how the Duke had explained their connection.
The morning parlour's door opened, revealing the impressive width of her uncle and the willowy form of a lady beside him.
"Hermione m'dear," came her uncle's booming voice, "Let me introduce you to Miss Malfoy. She has called upon us with the most distressing news."
Hermione rolled her eyes at the obviously avaricious light shining in her uncle's eyes. Clearly, the man knew that the cousin of a Duke didn't come a-calling every day. Her aunt had plastered an overly bright smile on her face as if this were indeed a social call and had wisely kept her eyes averted towards the ceiling.
Hermione understood why immediately, nearly choking when she noticed the lady who had followed her uncle into the room.
Dressed head to toe in bright orange, the lady looked like one of the tropical birds Hermione had once seen in a menagerie. Her large, wide-brimmed straw hat was decorated with silk poppies the size of a small child's face, and her belt was a bizarre collection of what looked like old coins strung together by a haphazard hand. All in all, 'twas an outfit no one could forget, and while unconventional, the lady wearing it pulled it off with remarkable aplomb.
Hermione stood hastily and curtsied, as was required when greeting a lady with a rank higher than hers.
...
Luna Malfoy surveyed the brightly appointed parlour the Baron had led her too, and one thing was clear, the Greengrass family certainly lacked no funds.
The whole house was rather garish to her and the Baron and his wife obvious social climbers, interested mainly in what their association to her would bring. As she deduced by their somewhat poorly veiled questions regarding her cousin.
Every mother wanted a Duke for her daughter. But Lady Greengrass, as Luna could tell from their one prior tea before this meeting, was one of those pushy and prodding mama's. One who planned, engineered and executed the launch and then subsequent Season of her daughter with a precision that would make Wellington blush in his boots.
If Lady Greengrass took to the notion of having Draco as a son-in-law, her cousin could be in serious trouble. At the moment, Luna knew that the younger Greengrass daughter had put her foot down and demanded at least three seasons before she married. Draco might be safe, but mothers have done a lot worse than broken a few promises to marry their daughters off to Dukes.
She winced. Had Draco lost his mind?
He had still not provided her with a reason as to why he needed her to specifically request this young woman as her secretary. A lady's companion, she thought with a pained expression, this is going to end in scandal.
Her lie to the Baron had been simple, she had made the acquaintance of his niece during one of the few balls she was forced to endure, and that was where the idea had sprung from. Luna would never have agreed if she had not been in absolutely dire need of an actual secretary.
Her publisher at the Minerva Press had declared her last manuscript illegible, The Hunted Crypt, in her opinion, was one of her best books so far, but she needed someone competent to copy it for her. Her cousin's outlandish request allowed her to forgo the normally tedious task of interviewing several dozen candidates. Unfortunately, she owed Draco, she thought with a sigh.
Her older cousin, while intimidatingly proper, was also steadfastly loyal and honourable. Her own dear Papa and her uncle, Draco's late father, may his soul rest in peace were horrendous with money. Luna had grown up in what could only be considered genteel poverty.
Luna's debut novel, The Patchwork Man, a serial publication in several small-town newspapers, had just barely made enough money to save the little cottage that her father and mother had raised her, in Ottery St Catchpole in the Highlands, which was near Draco's country seat of MacFoy Manor.
Her father, Xenophilius, the younger Lord Malfoy was a man obsessed with the arcane arts. Ever since her late mother's untimely disappearance and death, her father had poured all their money into his foolish and futile project, The Quibbler. 'Twas a pamphlet, one which explored the occult and drew all kinds of riff-raff towards her father.
Draco had saved her just in time, not long after the death of his father and his return from Peninsula to take over the Duchy he had ridden up to his home in Scotland. It had been intended to be a visit to look in on his uncle, but Luna was determined to return to London with her cousin.
She wanted to write a novel and have it published in London. Draco had agreed, as long as she looked after and helped restore his old and decrepit ducal home in London, he had no time and no taste he had declared and the house had been closed since the death of his father. It needed a woman's touch.
Since neither were that concerned about going out into Society, Draco's old Georgian house in the once fashionable but now genteel neighbourhood of Islington suited them just fine. And since they were first cousins, a maid had been a sufficient chaperone.
She had been two and twenty when he had fully taken over his estates and had lived in one of his homes in London for the better part of five years. First, it had been MacFoy House in Islington and for the last few years Draco's townhouse.
To be fully honest, she hardly knew her cousin. She knew the Duke, of course, but her cousin Draco was like the dark side of the moon. Imminently mysterious and an enigma. He had never, not once in the many years they had known each other, asked her for a favour. Luna has never considered that there was anything she could do for her cousin.
Draco was very much the stoic and silent sort which was also the outline of her most popular novel heroes. She did admit that she had shamelessly plagiarised her cousin's exciting life from the many and varied accounts of his exploits during the wars. Which she curated from the gossip pages to inspire her heroes and story plots.
Luna liked to think of it as her artistic tribute to Draco for saving her from her father's madness in Scotland.
After agreeing to allow her to come to London with him, helping her get her first novel published and then letting her live in his townhouse in Regent's Park, Draco had settled a sizable monthly allowance on her father. Enough for papa to go off on all his wild adventures and continue printing his pamphlet without running out of funds, to pay the servants and buy food. Even Luna, who was doing rather well now with the smashing success of her sixth novel, The Scarlett Stone, received a generous allowance. She had purchased her rather wonderful new hat for this visit with it.
She studied the woman in front of her. Hermione Granger, like her name, her colouring too was quite Mediterranean. Intelligent brown eyes took stock of Luna before falling back downward. There had to be something going on between her and Draco, like all Malfoy's Draco had a penchant for machinations, she just hoped he knew what he was doing since this wasn't a woman of their class and she could get hurt caught up in one of Draco's schemes.
"I wonder, Baron, Lady Greengrass, if it would be possible at all for me to speak to your niece alone?" Luna queried in a polite voice.
"But of course, my dear lady, my niece has always been a clever lass, I'm sure she'll be happy to answer your queries," boomed the Baron, giving his wife's arm a small yank before winking at Hermione, the Baroness on the other hand, narrowed her eyes in a warning glare which the young woman merely rolled her eyes at.
"If only I had the power to make them leave as quickly as that," Hermione grumbled under her breath as soon as the door to the parlour closed. She blushed when she realised, she had said that out loud.
"My apologies, my lady. I must seem utterly ungrateful to you."
"You can call me Luna. It's an honorary title anyway," said Luna airily, brushing away Hermione's excuses. "I must confess Miss Granger, I am most astonished by this unusual request by my cousin, the duke. Since residing in London, I would like to think that I have come to somewhat understand my cousin, but it seems that isn't the case at all."
Hermione studied her hands clasped together on her lap, "I admit, our association is somewhat... unorthodox but I assure you 'tis nothing untoward." The tips of her ears went red, a sure-fire sign of her lie.
Luna leaned back against the delicate wingback chair, eyeing the selection of cakes that Lady Greengrass had provided on their tea-service.
"Why are you so keen to become a secretary?" Luna asked before making her choice of a delicate lemon cake with white frosting on it. "Seems to me like your uncle could afford to provide you with a dowry too. You couldn't marry a peer of course, but a respectable clergyman or vicar isn't out of the question."
...
Hermione was peeved; even though she had expected the question, it still grated on her that even Luna Lovegood, celebrated author of a genre dominated by women would ask her about marriage.
And it's the first question too, she thought rolling her eyes.
"What about you?" she said sweetly, "Being the cousin of a duke, surely you could marry into the peerage without any problems."
Luna looked up, startled. It must have been a long time since anyone had spoken to her with such impudence, but the words had slipped out of Hermione's mouth before she could stop them.
Instead of being offended, the woman grinned, "Ah, you see, the problem is that while I may be the cousin of a duke, I'm also the daughter of a mad man. That tends to drive away most suitors."
"My apologies, my lady," said Hermione hastily, "I didn't mean..."
Luna waved her apology away and looked at her with some interest now, "' Tis evident for me to see that while being a companion has sucked much joy from your life, my dear, but you still clearly have a mind of your own. Tell me, what do you dream about Miss Granger?"
"I want to write novels." Hermione blurted out hastily, "Your work has inspired me so very much. I know this meeting is unusual and even improper, some might say, and I'm sure you have many questions for me but please let me just say how ardently I admire your work and you. Even if we never meet again, your work has given me true joy, and I wish for you to know that."
"And now I wonder if you'll answer my next question as honestly as you did this one."
"That depends on what you ask, my lady." said Hermione carefully.
"What is your relationship with Draco and how did you two meet each other?"
"I don't think that's any of your business, my lady. Meaning no offence of course." said Hermione in a firm voice.
Luna shrugged and grinned before selecting a plum tart from the tea service, "You know he won't be able to marry you." she said casually watching as Hermione's hands tightened in her lap.
"Respectfully my lady, I'm eight and twenty and not a child and even as a child I didn't take unwanted advice well."
"Ah then I have a feeling we'll get along just fine, Miss. Granger." said Luna eyeing the other woman with a respectful grin, "You're hired as my secretary. Present yourself at this address tomorrow at 9 sharp." Luna finished her tart and fished out a card from her reticule and dropped it onto the small side table.
"What about my duties as a companion?" asked Hermione hastily.
"Your aunt and uncle assure me that it would be no problem for you to be away for a few hours every week, as long as you aren't kept out during the evenings."
"How can ever I thank you for taking me on?"
"Don't worry my dear I'm sure your aunt will think of something, she doesn't look like the kind of woman to forget a favour." replied Luna with a wink, "Don't worry I'll see myself out from what I understand Lord and Lady Greengrass have had a long night and this visit was rather early for them."
Hermione walked with Luna to the door and waved as she got into her carriage.
As soon as she was out of sight and the footman had disappeared back into the kitchens Hermione let out an unladylike scream of joy and did a little jig in the hallway.
She was one step closer to her dreams, now she just had to reach out and grasp this opportunity with both hands.
Hermione Granger, authoress. My -my, that certainly had a nice ring to it.
...
"What have you heard about the dead Frenchman who turned up in Wapping?"
Draco faced Theo with his fists raised; the Earl grinned and rolled his eyes.
"First time we see each other since you buried yourself in the Highlands, and this is what you say to me?"
Both men had shed their shirts in preparation for entering the ring.
Bareknuckle boxing, much more savage than its gentlemanly counterpart pugilism, was their sport of choice.
"I'm sure Mayhew came to you first." Draco grunted, "He knows how I feel about guns."
"Ah, but you forget, I have a wife now."
"Ah, the lovely Daphne, give her my best wishes and that I hope she receives that sainthood soon."
"What sainthood?" Theo said suspiciously.
"The one I nominated her for once she married you."
"All jests, Malfoy, you're all jests, but I don't see you with a wife of your own. By the way, what happened to Astoria? Isn't she charming?"
Draco winced. It was Theo who had suggested Draco add his sister-in-law's name to his list of potential Duchesses.
"I hate to say it Nott but isn't she a bit young?"
"No younger than most?" said Theo with a confused frown.
"Then by god, I feel ancient around these little girls they insist on throwing at me during each ball."
"Ah..." said Theo with an understanding nod, "You want what me and Daphne have but I warn you my friend it is a rare and precious type of marriage me and my wife share."
Draco hesitated, Theo was a very good friend, had been since Eton, served in the War Office together, even saved each other's lives but telling him about his intentions for Hermione would put the Earl in an unforgivable position and Hermione in an even worse one.
"Let's spar." said Draco shortly, "We have much to discuss but we'll do that... after."
Draco jumped over the taut string surrounding the rubber ring and faced his friend. Both men danced around each other carefully before Theo hit out.
They were equally matched, the tall and well muscled Duke and the shorter but much stockier Earl and before long sweat dripped down Draco's back and through his long blond hair.
He slicked it back with an impatient hand as he threw a taunting smile at Theo. Theo was like a bear, all fierce power but no strategy while Draco fought like a snake, skillfully, carefully… leathally. Still they had to maintain some modicum of restraint, couldn't be sending his friend home to his wife with a black-eye.
Draco had been itching for some way to deal with all the unrequited passion inside him since meeting Hermione. And since he couldn't make love to her this was the next best thing.
"Christ Malfoy." wheezed Theo, holding up a hand to stop Draco from advancing towards him. "What has gotten into you, man? You're fighting like a man possessed?"
"I am possessed and by an unladylike hoyden no less." he muttered under his breath.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing, now put your fists up Nott I feel the need to pound you into the dust again."
...
"They found this floating along the bottom of the banks of the Thames near where they found his body."
Theo and Draco were in Draco's library enjoying a glass of brandy after their bout. The Earl had just pulled out a small oilskin pouch from his coat and thrown it at Draco.
"Permission paper's, gold star. He would have travelled on the fastest French ship free of charge." Theo nodded, "One of my men found these while scouring the area after those idiots at Bow Street botched the recovery of the body."
Draco studied the faded foolscap, the oil skin had prevented major damage, but after days in the Thames water had made its way inside the pouch.
"So, he did lie about his name."
"No one named Louis LaLune exists in our files, especially not an emigree from France. He must have misled the woman who identified him."
"What makes you think she wasn't in on it?"
"They were lovers, but from what I've gathered our spy had many of those. She seemed genuinely broken up over his death and knew nothing about the blueprints he carried. She could be lying, of course. But my intuition tells me otherwise."
"What can you make out from these papers? And this woman, the one who identified him, how did Bow Street find her?"
"She lives in one of the tenaments near the docks, it seems old boy Louis preferred to use his cock as payment for using her window to keep an eye on the ships coming in. We could only make out his first name on his identification papers but something else survived the Thames."
The Earl gingerly extracted another paper and handed it to Draco, careful to only touch the very edge of it, "That thing gives me the willies." He shuddered.
Draco took the scrap of paper from Theo to examine it, "Is this blood?"
"Seems to be a coded message written in blood, but you know I'm just the muscle of our operation." he shrugged nonchalantly.
Draco grinned, knowing that Theo's affable manner hid a core of pure iron, the man was as steadfast as an ancient mountain and exactly the kind of person one wanted fighting beside them. His genial manner had saved them more times that Draco could count but it also made their enemies discount him... something they always regretted later.
"I doubt whatever that message is has anything to do with what he was carrying and why he was killed; it's not Napoleon's style to do something this dramatic. A message written in blood, it's utterly preposterous like something out of one of my cousin's ridiculous novels. "
"Could be another one of his lovers, he wasn't strictly a part of Polite Society, but I can ask about in my club, see if there were any gambling hells or brothel's he liked visiting. From what I understand, he's been using the same false name he gave the woman who identified him in Society. He claims to be the bastard of a great French lord."
"You'll have to be careful asking your questions." Draco said thoughtfully, "After that idiot from Bow Street allowed those vultures from the gossip rags to see the body for a few pounds, every amateur sleuth has an opinion about the dead man."
"What was Mayhew thinking, allowing them to remain on the scene?"
"You know he doesn't have a choice, ever since the war ended officially, they've been gunning for his resignation. The new prime-minister is an idiot."
"If it isn't Mayhew it'll be some other war mongering bastard, at least Mayhew has integrity and a modicum of honesty. I trust him a hell of a lot more than those fat sons of whores sitting in Lords refusing to even consider passing a bill to compensate the soldiers who lost life and limb in their war." Draco said angrily.
"Your father must be rolling in his grave knowing his son is a Whig." said Theo with a grin. "and with you being Scottish as well, I thought all Jacobite's were Tories."
"Yes well my father didn't bother to attend Parliament while he was alive so his opinions on my politics would be moot, now back to this letter… regardless of wether it is connected to his murder or not we must deciper what it says. It could be something very important or just rubbish."
"What bothers me about the whole affair is the fact that whoever killed him didn't take the plans from his body." said Theo leaning back in his chair, frowning.
"Ah but you're forgetting how well he hid those, they could have searched the body and failed to find them, after all even in Wapping you can't strip a dead body without someone noticing."
"Has Mayhew said who exactly had access to these plans and if any of them reported them missing?"
"No and he's avoiding me. Besides the blueprint on our man could have been a copy, taken without displacing the original."
"I don't imagine he'll be able to answer your question, he is after all a commoner no matter what position he enjoys in the War Office. None of the snobs there will take kindly to being questioned in a matter that is tantamount to treason, especially not by a commoner. Asking if any of the men he reports to are missing such vital information critical to England's safety and her defence in future wars would be like signing his own death warrant."
"But you agree, that there is no doubt that whoever the traitor is, he or she is among the peerage."
"Undoubtedly which is why I think Mayhew did a very clever thing by handing this off to you. There are certain places that only a Duke has access to and even the Secretary of War understands that."
Draco dropped his head into his hands and let out a long sigh, "This is so much more complicated than being in the Peninsula."
"You're absolutely right old friend except Society is much more vicious and bloodthirsty than those poor French soldiers they sent to fight us in the Peninsula." said Theo cheerfully, helping himself to more brandy from the decanter on Draco's desk.
...
In a very different part of London...
The lady exited the hackney cab carefully.
"Are ye sure ye want to be dropped here, mum?" the driver was concerned, judging by the fine silk of the lady's gown and her expensive pelisse trimmed in ermine this part of London wasn't suitable for her. She wore a veil, like a widow in mourning making it hard for the cabbie to see her face yet the rings glinting on her satin gloves indicated that she was a lady of some means.
Footpads and cutthroats lined The Rookery, St. Giles just waiting to prey upon their next victim.
The lady disembarked gracefully, side stepping puddles of piss and sewage water and the cabbie had the most astonishing feeling that she was smiling at him from behind her veil.
"Don't you worry, my good man." Her voice was silky smooth, cultured and yet the shiver that raced down his spine upon hearing it was unmistakable.
"I hope yer not thinking that I'll be waitin' around fer ye to finish yer errand." He said hastily, wishing for a pint of ale and his bed and wanting to be far-far away from the rookery.
She didn't bother replying, she walked towards the crowded streets and disappeared in the early evening traffic beginning to engulf the crowded lanes of St. Giles.
During the day St. Giles was bad enough, the poverty and sense of despair surrounding the place was palpable but during the night... oh during the night St Giles was menacing, a place where a man could have his throat slit from gil to gil while having his prick sucked and still lose a fortune at whist.
A woman like her would be eaten alive. He'd pray for her soul but for now he would be rushing home to kiss his wife.
Beta- TheImperfectionista
A/N- As always I'd like to thank all of you who have enjoyed this story, every time I upload I wait anxiously to see all your comments, review, suggestions. Many of you have been asking me how long this story is going to be and if i'm being honest I can't really answer that for you, I had never intended for this story to go past 5 chapters lol! This chapter was honestly a little bit of a struggle to work on since I had to decide if i should be extending this story into an adventure sequence or allowing it to come to a close within the 10 chapter limit i had set for myself which is why it took me a few weeks to work on it. I hope that all of you decide to read and enjoy this story as far as I take it.
As always your words mean a great deal so please leave a review if you're enjoying this story.
P.S- I have a Tumblr now! It's empty at the moment but I was thinking of using it to beta story plots I'm working on, it's AuroraAustralice as well if you'd like to follow me on there and get sneak peeks of new chapters/story plots/one-shots or just general cute pictures of my cat, crystals and other fun things I'm into!
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