To Deceive A Duke

Chapter 12

"They can't buy me," Clarissa says fiercely. "I will never be another man's puppet no matter how much money he puts before me."

"You won't be given the choice." He says. "They know we can't be bought, if they want us then it is force they will use."

Clarissa sits back in the chair, she absently rubs her forefinger and thumb together as she thinks. She wasn't expecting such a problem to arise so soon, suddenly she feels like a child trying to fill the boots of a king. She glances down at the map on the desk. She leans forward and picks up Peter's discarded pen. She puts a large cross through The City and then moves the nib to cross out Whitechapel. It traces the outline of her land, her eyes scan every inch of the place she calls home until the pen moves to the right, right over the black section.

"I want Westminster." She murmurs, her eyes fixed on Westminster Abbey.

"What?" Peter says in disbelief. She looks up at him, determination alive in her eyes.

"I want Westminster." She repeats with conviction, circling the territory.

"Impossible." He says automatically.

"Not impossible." She rises from her seat, "Nearly impossible, there's a difference."

Peter considers her carefully, "Cavendish may not come for us. We can't afford to act rashly."

"If they keep expanding, we are going to be at the top of their target list," Clarissa says, "We need to match their strength, Westminster is the ultimate "don't screw with us", it could scare them." 

Peter purses his lips, his reluctance is evident but as is his agreement. 

Clarissa sighs, knowing she needs to be careful, " I will keep a hold on my plan for Westminster for now." She hands the pen back to Peter.

"Before you run off, I have something you must see." He says,  opening a desk drawer and pulling out a folded piece of material. He slides it across the table.

"What's this?" Clarissa asks, picking up and unfolding the thick canvas.

"Cavendish's family tree," Peter grunts. "That's the snake whose head you need to cut off."

She glares at the crest at the head of the tree, a lion sits proudly on a throne of swords. She follows the names, dates and marriages to the name at the bottom; Daniel Cavendish, Duke of Richmond, 1774 - Present.

"Where did you get this?" She asks, studying the many people that make up the Cavendish family.

"I went to the Library to see if the family had any public records, we know his name, but that is it," Peter explains.

"I know him." She reveals, deciding to speak. "He was at the ball I attended. I didn't recognise him but Lord Mathew told me who he was."

"Did you speak to him?" Peter has risen out of his chair and is looking intently at her.

"We spoke about nothing important, I don't think he knows that I am who I am." She says quickly, "He didn't react at all, it was like I was invisible."

Peter visibly relaxes, "It highly possible he has no clue it's you, they know your name and your family but not your faces. This gives us an advantage."

"It's not an advantage we should use, all it takes is for someone to say one thing and then he knows who I am." She replies. 

"You are right, but it does help that we know his face," Peter says, rubbing his chin.

"Can I keep this?" She asks, holding the canvas.

"Sure," Peter says, settling back into his chair. She folds it up and tucks it under her arm.