Undercover Duke

Armitage family’s box would give Vanessa’s interest away. Then a thought occurred to her. “Mama,” she whispered, “do you have your polemoscope with you?”
With a nod, her mother drew it from her reticule. But before Vanessa could seize it, her mother asked, “Whom are you using it to observe?”
After her mother’s diatribe against Sheridan, she dared not say it was him. “The marquess, of course.”
“Don’t toy with me, girl.” Funny how Mama always assumed other people lied as much as she did. “I know you have your heart set on that playwright, and he is far beneath you.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Taking the polemoscope from her mother, she put it to her eye and leaned forward. Mama had purchased the curiosity after Papa’s death, but Vanessa had never used it.
Until now. The polemoscope looked exactly like an opera glass or spyglass, which was ironic because it literally allowed one to spy on the people in the boxes to one’s right or left without anyone knowing. She could easily see everyone in the Armitage box.
Thornstock and Sheridan sat behind their sister, Lady Gwyn, and their mother. The two ladies were clearly chatting, but although his brother chimed in from time to time, Sheridan seemed disengaged from them, cloaked in his usual stoic manner. Like a saint.
Or a sphinx. A sphinx fit him better, given his impenetrable character. Suddenly he looked over at her, and she started, unnerved by his attention, though she knew he couldn’t tell she was watching him.
She dropped the polemoscope into her lap.
“Is he there?” Mama asked.
“Who?”
“Your Mr. Juncker.”
Good Lord, she hadn’t even checked. “Yes,” she said, praying he was. She lifted the polemoscope and scanned the other boxes. And there he was, Mr. Konrad Juncker, the supposed object of her affections. Plenty of women worshipped him for his wild golden hair and his Nordic blue eyes, though he wasn’t really accepted in good society. He dressed like a poet and talked like a playwright. Indeed, at the moment, he was clearly flirting with some lady Vanessa didn’t even know. That was why she would never be enamored of him. He was rumored to be quite the rakehell, resembling her late father too well to suit her.
Still, she wished she’d never blurted out the words that had set her on the path to pretending to care for him. Because if she seemed to switch her affections to Sheridan at this juncture, Sheridan would think her fickle. Or worse, playing some deep game. Which she hadn’t been initially. But as Sir Walter Scott had written, “Oh, what a tangled web we weave / When first we practice to deceive.” Her web grew more tangled by the day.
She set the polemoscope down. Vanessa had prayed she’d get a chance to speak to Sheridan, but she despaired of that happening. Especially as the play reached the end of the first act, and a quick glance at the Armitage box showed he’d disappeared. No doubt he was flirting with some other—
“Good evening,” said a smooth-as-brandy voice. “I trust you’re all enjoying the performance?”
Vanessa’s pulse jumped as Sheridan came around the chairs to lean against the balustrade, facing her and Mama. Sheridan was in her uncle’s box? How unexpected.
How delicious.
“We’re liking it as much as one can, given that it’s not new,” Uncle Noah said from his seat behind Mama. “Still, I’ll take an old play by Juncker over a new one by just about any other playwright. He knows how to entertain, I’ll give you that.”
Only the slight furrowing of Sheridan’s brow told her he wasn’t pleased by the praise of Mr. Juncker. She only wished she could be sure why.
“Armitage,” Mama said coldly. “I don’t believe you’ve met my brother, Sir Noah Rayner.”
Given the rude familiarity of Mama’s greeting, Vanessa wouldn’t have blamed Sheridan one whit if he’d left. Fortunately, Uncle Noah glossed over it by rising and coming around Mama’s seat to thrust out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Duke.” His gray eyes twinkled a bit. “I’ve heard so much about you from my sister.”
“Don’t be silly, Noah,” her mother snapped. “Ignore my brother, if you please, Your Grace. I am not a gossip.”
What a lie. Mama was both a gossip and a manipulator.
Her uncle gestured to the seat beside his, the one directly behind Vanessa. “Do join us. My niece was just saying she would love your opinion on the performance.”
Clearly Mama wasn’t the only one who could turn a situation to her advantage. But at least Uncle Noah was pushing Vanessa toward Sheridan and not toward Lord Lisbourne.
When Sheridan focused his gorgeous green eyes on Vanessa, she pasted a flirtatious smile to her face. “Nonsense, Uncle. I already know his opinion.”
Sheridan’s expression didn’t change one whit. It exhibited a perfect blend of boredom and nonchalance. “Oh? And what might that be?”
“That the shenanigans of Felix and his friends are ridiculous. That you don’t consider such frivolity entertaining in the least.”
“If you say so.” He shrugged. “Honestly, I have no opinion whatsoever.”
It was the sort of thing he always said. “Ah, but you must admit that when you do, it’s contrary to everyone else’s. Why, I once heard you tell the Secretary of War that Napoleon was a masterful strategist who would win against us if we didn’t recognize it and act accordingly.”
“That wasn’t an opinion; it was the truth.” He stared her down. “Just because the man is our enemy doesn’t mean we should assume he’s stupid. Greater men than our Secretary of War have made that mistake, to their detriment.”
The words piqued her uncle’s curiosity. “Forgive me, Duke, but are you familiar with military strategy?”
“My father trained me from an early age to follow in his footsteps in Britain’s diplomatic service, a profession which requires knowing strategies of all kinds. So yes, Sir Noah, I do know quite a bit.”
Mama turned up her nose at the very idea. “I’m sure your late father was relieved when you became his heir to the dukedom instead. What a fortuitous