“We do, Your Grace. I will ensure that the message is received.”
The duke evidently had anticipated as much. He continued to speak as he headed for the front door. “I will be leaving London shortly, but Miss Ballantyne’s continued comfort remains a concern of mine. I will leave word with my solicitor, Mr. Greene, that you may be required to contact him for assistance and ensure that he is prepared to offer same. He will also be advised of how to reach me if you recall any other detail that you believe to be helpful.”
“I thank you, Your Grace, for your assistance,” Latimer said, unable to keep an increment of relief from his tone. It could not hurt to have a powerful man upon Miss Ballantyne’s side.
Doris showed no such restraint and for once, Bert could not fault her for that. She seized the duke’s hand and dropped to one knee before him, kissing his ring as if he were the Pope himself. “I thank you, Your Grace,” she said, her voice tremulous. “She is the best mistress and kinder than anyone knows. She does not deserve this fate.”
“And that is why we must see the matter repaired, Mrs. Nelson,” the duke said smoothly. He urged Doris to her feet and held fast to her hand as he smiled at her. “I will see it done. You may rely upon me.”
They stood together and watched the duke stride toward his carriage, his gait distinctive for the way he favored one leg. Bert closed the door only after the duke had vanished into his carriage, feeling that the house echoed with the absence of their mistress.
“I believe him, Bert,” Doris said with fervor.
“As do I, Doris. As do I.” Bert took a shaking breath. “I will send word immediately to Miss Pearl.”
Doris frowned. “I think, Bert, you should write to that address. Miss Ballantyne will not be able to do as much, I wager, and His Grace should find a ready reception if he is to help.”
Latimer considered this. It was not in his nature to meddle where he should not, but there was good sense in the suggestion. “I will,” he bowed.
Doris smiled. “And I will put the kettle on. We both have need of a strong cup of tea, to be sure.”
Chapter 7
Nicholas was tired, having slept poorly, but more importantly, he could not locate Haynesdale. He wanted to verify their arrangements for the evening at Brooks’s. So much rode on this evening’s success. He had called early at the duke’s home, only to be told that Haynesdale was not in. He had not even seen Eliza, though he thought he had heard her voice from the upper floors of the house.
He stopped at White’s, but Haynesdale had not been seen there since the night before. Where the deuce was the man? Again, he considered the possibility of Haynesdale having taken a new mistress and wondered where he might find the woman in question, if she existed.
On the way out, he paused at the betting book, since there had been a cluster of laughing men gathered around it on his arrival. What was the bet of the moment?
There was one that had solicited a great deal of activity, which was remarkable since it had only been added that morning.
Mr. Anthony Davidson wagers £10 that Mr. Ethan Melbourne will be married to Miss Helena Emerson before Easter Sunday.
Below it was a long string of additional wagers, either in agreement or in dispute.
Nicholas was startled by the claim, not just because it involved his sister but because Easter Sunday was less than three weeks away. As far as he knew, no offer of marriage had been made by Mr. Melbourne. If there was to be a wedding, then banns had to be called three Sundays in a row in advance of the wedding.
Surely, he could not have missed the publishing of the banns for Helena’s wedding or the news of her pending nuptials?
Ten pounds was a considerable sum to wager on a comparative trifle—at least, it was a trifle for those other than Melbourne and Helena. This Davidson either had little doubt of his triumph or was reckless with his money.
Perhaps it was a cruel joke at his sister’s expense, and one that Melbourne either knew about or supported. Indeed, Melbourne’s wager in favor of Davidson’s assertion was on the list, as well.
Did Helena know? Or did this rogue make sport of her?
Fortunately, Nicholas had been forced to endure the tale of the dress to be collected this very afternoon, and Helena’s insistence upon the timing of that errand, and knew precisely where to find his sister on this day—who would be in the company of Mrs. North.
He refused to give credence to the immediate improvement in his spirits, just at the prospect of seeing Eliza shortly.
Whatever Helena confessed, Nicholas would ensure that this travesty of a tale was removed from the betting book at White’s. He was not reluctant to offer encouragement or even a challenge to Mr. Melbourne either.
Dear Mrs. Oliver—
I thank you for entrusting pages from your book manuscript to me for my perusal and review. I think the subject a most broad one, but find that these provided excerpts barely touch upon the subject of seduction. I should hope that there is more detail in the remainder of the book and would be delighted for the chance to review it.
In addition, I am aware from my years as the wife of a parson that many wives currently struggle with the hidden legacies of war left with their husbands and lovers. It is hardly my place to guide your work, but I believe it would be very helpful to have some advice in overcoming such injuries—or even healing them—in the men who so valiantly served Britain in recent times. When meeting with such ladies in my previous capacity, I would have welcomed a more specific guide to offer them consolation and assistance.
I look forward to your reply and thank you for your confidence.
