The footman lowered the steps and opened the carriage door.
Neither Tristan nor Isolde made move to exit.
“Courage,” she whispered, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.
Swallowing, Tristan nodded.
Hand in hand, they walked up the short path. Tristan rapped on the door.
Please let the news of Ledger be of a happy sort, he pleaded.
A young maid answered.
“May I help ye, sir?” she asked, eyes wide as she took in the liveried footman and gleaming carriage.
Tristan cleared his throat. “I received a letter from Dr. George Fitzhugh, stating that I would find information about Mr. Adam Ledger at this address.”
“Of course. Dr. Fitzhugh sent word that someone might be by. Please come in.”
The maid took their hats and gloves and led them into a small but well-appointed parlor. Tristan handed her his calling card.
The girl’s eyes widened at reading the neatly printedDuke of Kendall.
“I will fetch my mistress, Your Grace,” she said with a curtsy and quietly left the room, closing the door behind her.
Isolde wrapped an arm around Tristan’s waist, resting her head on his upper arm. “Ye be the best of men, Tristan Gilbert.”
He snorted in surprise. “Why do you say that?”
“Ye don’t have to be here. Ye could have sent a servant to make this inquiry, but your big heart simply couldn’t pass this task to another. Ye had to make the effort yourself.”
“In other words . . . I am impatient and a bit controlling?”
His lovely wife grinned, lifting onto tiptoe to rest her chin on his shoulder. “Remind me to show ye later precisely how deeply I admire yourself.”
“If your goal is to distract me, Wife, you are doing a most excellent job.” He kissed her nose.
“Thank ye.”
How he loved this woman. No matter the difficulty, no matter what he would learn when the lady of the house arrived, a glimmering surety hummed in his veins. That together, he and Isolde could conquer anything.
A moment later, the door opened and a pretty woman stepped into the room. Though of average height and build, her blue eyes sparked with humor and warmth.
“Your Graces.” The woman curtsied, the cultured tones of her speech instantly defining her as a lady. “I am honored to have you in my home. I am Mrs. Elizabeth Bertram.”
“A pleasure, madam.” Tristan inclined his head.
The woman smiled. “My brother, Dr. Fitzhugh, sent word earlier today that I might expect a visit from a representative of the Duke of Kendall in the near future, but I cannot say Iexpected to see Your Grace in person. Not to mention your lovely duchess, as well.”
Tristan nodded. “Mr. Adam Ledger was a valued servant, and I was deeply distressed when I learned of his dismissal. Please tell me, as I am most anxious to know, do you have any information as to Mr. Ledger’s welfare? He has been a constant weight on my mind these weeks, and I am desperate to know the state of his health and wellbeing.”
“Mr. Ledger is well enough, Your Grace.”
Tristan’s knees sagged, relief pouring over his head and down his body, brilliant sunlight breaking through the clouds of a dreary day.
“God be praised,” he breathed. “He lives!”
“That is the best news,” Isolde agreed, her fingers lacing through his.
