‘Do you know how he acquired so much money?’
‘No.’
‘Hm.’ How was it that one of their brothers could create a fortune, marry, have a daughter and die and the four of them who remained knew virtually nothing about his life? ‘We should have made more of an attempt to keep in contact with him.’
‘You agree then, that all is not right with his death?’
‘I…’ Was it really a good idea to encourage Edward in this? Freddie may not know his brothers all that well, but he knew that Edward sometimes became overfocused on things. On the other hand, the cause of Sebastian’s death, given his talent with the horses and considering his vast wealth, was odd.
‘Well?’ Edward prompted.
‘It might be worth further investigation, but how would we go about that?’ It was one thing to discuss the possibility after too much wine and one too many brandies but quite another to venture to the other side of the world to discover the truth. Freddie would be next to useless anyway at doing so. If there was a company that needed investigating, Freddie, with his inability to read, was not going to find out anything. ‘Do you want to travel to America to find out more?’
But Edward was already shaking his head. ‘I cannot,’ he said.
Freddie was about to question his response but stopped himself before he could utter a word. Edward was a bachelor who had no more commitments than Freddie. There was no real reason that Edward could not travel to America and back; what was holding Edward back was in his mind. But as Freddie couldn’t read, no matter how hard he tried to learn, he was hardly one to comment. ‘We could hire an investigator.’
‘Yes. Good idea, Fred.’
‘Really?’
Edward glanced at him. ‘There is no need to sound surprised that I agree with you. I may enjoy winding you up, but I am not such a bore as to not admit it when you are right. Of course it is a sound idea. We will need to find someone reputable.’
‘And perhaps give them a deadline. If they have not found out any answers within six months of arriving in America, they should stop. We do not want to be strung along for years.’
Edward clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Another excellent point. Now, which one of us should have the pleasure of suggesting the idea to Tobias?’
As they continued to stroll through the streets, the brothers bickered amicably over who was going to persuade their oldest brother that their idea had merit. It was not that they couldn’t afford to pay for it between them, rather it was the thought of bringing the Dashworth name into disrepute. Before they moved on to whether it would be a good idea to play a practical joke on Christopher. Christopher may be the baby of the family, but he was the tallest and arguably the strongest and might be able to kill them should he take proper offence. They debated whether or not it was worth the risk, before deciding, in the end, that it probably was.
Freddie was enjoying himself; Edward was funnier than he remembered, or perhaps he had never known. As they strolledthrough the streets, coming up with ever more elaborate ideas to torment Christopher, Freddie almost forgot about Emily and yet, somehow, she still hovered at the edge of his consciousness. What had started as an inconvenient calf love was growing, morphing into something that was starting to consume every waking moment. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to find himself in big trouble.
ChapterFourteen
Ithink I’ll have my hair styled differently,’ Emily told her lady’s maid. ‘I was visiting Lady Albrighton yesterday and she looked delightful with her hair curling loosely around like this.’ Emily took a few strands and showed her maid what she had in mind.
Jane stood frozen, her hand clutching the brush. ‘I’m not sure I can, Miss Emily.’
‘It is really easy, Jane. It will hold in place like this.’ Emily demonstrated the simple loop, which looked lovely but, even more importantly, used a lot fewer pins and should save her scalp. Ever since Freddie had looked at her as if she were a wool-brained fool because she willingly wore a painful hairstyle, she’d been busy thinking of ways to reduce her discomfort. Freddie was right; not that she’d tell him, or at least, not that she would have told him before now. They seemed to be developing a tentative friendship that might end their years of pointless squabbling, although talking about her hairstyle with anyone other than her maid could be considered deeply strange.
Still, she was more likely to discuss her hair with him now than at any point during their acquaintance. Any contact between them would probably cease when she married; their paths would rarely cross and they might be morefriendlybut they certainly weren’tfriendswho would stride across ballrooms to greet one another happily.
The only way they would stay in touch was if she married the duke. She took a deep breath as her heart plummeted. Her mother was convinced the duke was close to officially courting her. That he called once a week with Charlotte was all the proof she needed. Emily was sickeningly aware that he did, indeed, appear to be showing her marked favour. There was nothing wrong with Freddie’s older brother. He would probably treat her with respect and she would be out of her mother’s reach as mistress of her own home. There was no need to feel as if a leaden weight were pressing down on her chest trying to cut off her airways. For one thing, the duke had not asked if he could court her and so she was getting so far ahead of herself she was almost becoming her mother. Until the Duke of Glanmore made an obvious move in his courtship of her, marriage to him was not something she needed to spend time thinking about. Nor was there any point in thinking about the press of Freddie’s palm against her lower back as he had led her around the ballroom. His hand was no different from that of any other and yet she could still feel it against her, days after he had held her.
While she’d been woolgathering, her maid had remained in a fixed position, her hands out in front of her but not actually reaching for Emily’s hair.
‘Shall we start?’ Emily smiled softly. ‘I really do not think it will be difficult to do.’
‘It’s not that, Miss. It’s that I don’t think your mother would like it if I changed your hair. She’s adamant on the style I always do for you.’
Emily’s smile froze on her face. ‘I thought we decided how I wear my hair.’
Jane shifted on her feet, her gaze darting around Emily’s bedroom as if hoping for a rescue.
‘Jane,’ repeated Emily. ‘Tell me that we choose my look together.’
Jane’s lips pressed together and she shook her head.
Emily attended her dress fittings; she knew that her mother had control over the outfits that were bought for her, but she had thought that, within these confines, she had the final decision on how she put up her hair and what clothes she wore. Her mother’s opinions were strong and Emily knew she chose her clothes and hairstyles in order to avoid lengthy lectures, but she thought that shewaschoosing. From Jane’s expression, it was obvious she’d been wrong.
