“Dear father,
I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for my sudden departure and the worry this must have caused you. I find that I cannot tolerate the notion of a life with a man who is capable of raising his hand against me. I apologize for ruining your arrangement and I hope that the man you had intended me to marry will find another wife to make him happy. My reason for writing to you is to tell you that I am now engaged to be married. My husband-to-be is His Grace, the Duke of Valebridge. The wedding is to take place very soon, in fact, this Saturday coming. I know that this is short notice. It has been something of a whirlwind. I also hope that you will be mollified now that I have found a husband who is such a good match for me. You, too, must admit that a Duke is a fine match for a woman of my rank. I should dearly love for you to give us your blessing and attend the wedding. To give me away to my new husband.
Please reply as soon as you can so that I may make the proper arrangements.
Yours very faithfully
Selina
She read over the letter and grimaced. Part of her said that a father should be present at his only daughter’s wedding. But a bigger part said that he didn’t deserve to be. That he had treated her like a commodity and allowed her to be abused by the man he had chosen to sell her to.
I am not your property father. I possess agency. I am in control of my own destiny, as much as any simple human being can be.
The purpose of the letter was not to plead for her father’s blessing, though she suspected if it was forthcoming, it would bring her some pleasure. The purpose of the letter was to have a message of real import to be carried to Folkington and the mail coach. Then it would be carried to her father’s house at Sawthorne. It would take Mr. Beveridge an hour to get to Folkington, using the horse and trap, then another hour to return, plus time to see the letter posted. Perhaps he would take advantage of his time in Folkington to sup an ale at the Black Sheep or purchase a new pouch of tobacco at the tobacconists. From the visits she had paid to her grandmother in her youth, she remembered the tobacconist as being a jolly man by the name of Nevis. Whether he was still there, she did not know.
All in all, Beveridge would understand why she did not want to trust such an important missive to anyone but him. He would leave the house and she would have free reign to look through the records he had kept.
And if I discover something that is not to my taste? What then? If I find out something about Arthur such as….
She did not want to think about what she might learn. She hoped it would be nothing. Merely the vagaries of time and memory, playing tricks. But, she would not be content until she knew for sure.
CHAPTER18
“Your Grace’s mind appears to be elsewhere. I wonder if this matter should not wait?” Elliot Russell said.
He was a young man with fair hair, neatly combed. His face was long and his eyes serious, with flat, dark brows. Nimble, long-fingered hands closed the ledger he had been talking Marcus through and he sat back. The principal room on the ground floor of Marcus’ rented accommodation in Lambeth was spacious, made more so by the lack of furniture, with a high ceiling and a bay window. Beyond was a mass of rosebush, half obscuring the daylight. The sash window was open to let out the smell of must and vacancy. Marcus had been staring at the wild rose, not taking in a single thing his solicitor had been saying.
“I do apologize,” he said, shaking himself, “you’re right, I do have some weighty matters on my mind. It makes it rather difficult to concentrate. But I will try harder. This is a subject I must get my head around.”
“Indeed, I quite agree. I have been working on little else for the last month. Your father’s estates were…are extensive. His business dealings are…were labyrinthine. I do not wish to speak ill of the dead, but it is almost as though he wanted to avoid scrutiny.”
Marcus rubbed at the bridge of his nose, sighing. “I am not sure that particular thought would be too wide of the mark. Though I did not know my father well.”
“Quite, two men may share a house their entire lives and know little of each other’s nature,” Russell observed.
Marcus realized his slip and nodded sharply. There had been no way to change solicitors from the one that his father had employed without raising some suspicion. Russell had signed a contract in which he was retained as solicitor to the Roy family for a number of years. And Marcus had found no way around it. He needed the man in order to come to grips with his father’s accounts and business enterprises. But every interaction risked discovery.
“I must confess that our previous correspondence led me to believe that you were a very different man. I suppose that is the difference between an acquaintanceship based on correspondence and one carried out in person,” Russell said.
“Yes, do not forget that I have been somewhat unwell since inheriting. You have not known me at my best,” Marcus said.
The intent young man colored and straightened in his seat. “Of course, Your Grace. I did not mean to imply anything. Of course, ill health will transform a man’s personality. It certainly will. Do you wish to proceed or shall we draw a line under our work for today?”
Marcus stood from the table, feeling restless. He paced the room, dressed in breeches and a waistcoat. His cravat was blue, breeches cream, and shirt white. An onyx glittered in the pin of his cravat.
“I must understand or I am lost. A man who is not an expert on his own affairs is doomed,” Marcus said angrily.
The truth is, when I am not thinking of my wife-to-be, I am thinking of the ruffian who might destroy the illusion I have been trying to maintain.
London felt like a hostile environment. It had been a mistake to come here. There were too many people who might have met Arthur.
How could I have been so foolish? This all stemmed from the asylum my mother was incarcerated in. Had I ignored that information, I would still be safe. And I would be in the company of Selina. Five years of effort torn down by one misstep.
Selina had written to him innumerable times since he left for London, and it had only been two days, constantly giving him updates of how her dress-hunting was going. He had finally broken down and replied to her last letter when she had noted having picked out her dress. The image of his wife-to-be in a wedding dress swam before his eyes just then. Her long blond curls and sky blue eyes. Skin so pale, perfect, and soft. A swan-like neck that just made him ache to kiss it. Bosoms so perfectly rounded and… With a growl, he forced his mind to the actual business before him. He had sent for Luke, asking him to come to London, and hoped that with Luke’s help, he might find a solution to the problem posed by Bill Baxter.
I cannot enter into a spiral of blackmail. A man like that would never be satisfied. It would be an open wound from which my wealth would pour.
“Is there something that Your Grace is not telling me, but perhaps should be?” Russell inquired as Marcus resumed his seat.
