She laughed. “Rain would not dare spot His Grace, the Duke of Villiers?”
“Dirt is something that happens to others,” he said, with that wicked laughter in his eyes. “Like sin and bankruptcy.”
“Alas, if you hope to avoid the blemish of sin,” Jemma said, sitting down before the chessboard, “I am not the one to give you an education.”
“But that is one of the things I love about you,” he said amiably. “The only thing I am certain about is the art of dress. Since you dress exquisitely on your own, I need not bother with advice. I do like your wig this morning.”
“Delicious,” Jemma agreed. She was wondering whether to speak to him of Elijah’s heart. Better not. She might cry, a truly horrific thought.
She began swiftly rearranging the chess pieces. “The last time I spoke to you, Villiers, you flatly refused to play with me. I hope that your current position opposite me indicates that you have revoked your ban on the game?”
“Your husband tells me that you have decided to forfeit the final game in our match,” he said, sighing.
Jemma looked up quickly. “You discussed our match with Elijah?”
“The final game was to be blindfolded and in bed,” he said mournfully. “How it pains me to give up the prospect. You can have no idea.”
“But I am throwing the match! You win. Surely that makes you just as happy as being blindfolded.”
“To my astonishment, I find it does not,” he said, looking faintly surprised.
“In that case, I will give you the pleasure of playing a game,” she said, promptly putting the pieces in order.
“You may be White, as it agrees with your coat.”
“My coat is the color of rich cream,” he said with a delicate shudder. “Not White. I abhor white silk, and satin of that hue is even worse. It reminds me of angels. Saints. That sort of thing.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with angels,” Jemma observed. “I’ve always liked the idea of feathery wings, though perhaps not halos. They sound like a particularly awkward kind of bonnet.”
“Then you will like the reason I’ve come to see you,” Villiers said, moving a pawn forward. “I am considering a bid for a halo of my own.”
“I’m shocked,” Jemma murmured. They played for a moment in silence. Villiers brought forward a rook and she challenged one of his pawns with her bishop.
“I have a problem,” Villiers said, not even pausing before he brought a knight into the contest.
Jemma raised an eyebrow. “You, the Great Villiers, has that most plebeian of all human conditions—a problem?”
He sighed. “It’s a particularly tedious conundrum, or I wouldn’t bring it up.”
“They all are. Although I was of the opinion that unmarried men with no encumbrances had the fewest problems of any.”
“Alas, I seem to have acquired a few encumbrances, though, as yet, no wife,” Villiers said thoughtfully. “I have fallen into respectability without noticing.”
“Fallen?” Jemma said with a chortle. “Given those illegitimate children of yours, you should boast of the opposite.”
“Vulgar,” he said. “Unworthy of you.”
Jemma grinned at him. “I find vulgarity so refreshing. From what I understand, children are a problem. Though surely the illegitimate type, tucked away out of sight and mind, cannot present very many problems?”
“My thought exactly.” His long fingers played with the pawn she had just knocked from the board.
“But?”