The other had not been so filthy, but it had also been without any identifying marks or signature. The message had been the identical.
His brother’s crime.Joshua could think of a thousand insults and misdemeanors committed by Gerald, pranks and jests every one, but a crime? The notion was preposterous, which was why he had burned the first note, thinking it a tasteless joke.
Whyhadtheir father bought Gerald that commission? Had there been a specific impetus? Joshua had not been privy to that interview but had only been told of it in the briefest of terms after Gerald’s departure. He had never liked the lost opportunity of seeing Gerald off, or of reconciling after that one bitter fight.
His father’s arrangements had meant the brothers had never spoken again, let alone reconciled. Had that been the plan? Joshua looked across the library, to the chair favored by his father, wishing the old man’s ghost might appear to answer his queries.
But then, his father had answered few questions while alive, and a habit of such discretion refined over a lifetime was unlikely to change, even in death.
Who was sending these notes? The threat was clear, though vague. Joshua reasoned that his best chance of solving this riddle was with the assistance of the Duke of Haynesdale. He had been away from Addersley and Nottinghamshire too long to hazard any guesses himself.
He knew that Haynesdale was not in residence at his country house, but perhaps that gentleman’s mother knew her son’splans. It could not hurt to ask the dowager duchess, not just about the plans of her son but possibly the availability of local ladies. His estate manager, Mr. Newson, was expecting him at four but it was only just past one.
A ride to Haynesdale House would fill Joshua’s afternoon most admirably.
The one thing Constance DeVries,the Dowager Duchess of Haynesdale, could not abide was an ambitious female.
It was one matter to have reconciled—to some extent—with Lady Frances Dalhousie, her long-time social adversary, but quite another to further that woman’s obvious aspirations to secure Haynesdale for her niece.
Yet Constance had been fool enough to send the coach to collect aunt and niece for tea. She had not initially considered what hay would be made of a gesture she saw as merely courteous, not until the coach was out of earshot.
Since then, she had fumed in anticipation of Fanny’s gloating. The woman could be insufferable!
The friction between them had begun in their debut season, when Constance had caught the eye of the heir to Haynesdale, who subsequently became her husband. Though the two young woman had initially been amiable, Fanny had been vexed with Constance ever since Luke’s preference had become evident. In recent weeks, they had reached a more friendly balance again, mostly due to Frances’ nephew marrying Constance’s daughter. Nicholas and Eliza were a very happy couple.
To Constance’s thinking, her former rival should have been content. But the interest of Fanny’s young niece in the graces of Haynesdale had been unmistakable, never mind her apparentfascination with Damien, Constance’s sole surviving son and the duke.
Constance had once remarked upon Fanny’s tenacity and it seemed that some matters did not change with time. Having failed to secure Haynesdale herself, Fanny would undoubtedly seek to see her niece graced with the coronet. Miss Helena Emerson appeared to have the identical objective in mind.
If only Damien had seen fit to wed in a timely fashion.
If only Damien had seen fit to wed at all.
Constance did not doubt that her son waited for love, as she and his father had done, but still. It was absurdly inconvenient for him to be an unattached duke with Fanny’s niece in the vicinity, her ambitious gaze fixed firmly on strawberry leaves. How far would Helena go to win Damien’s attention and his ring? Constance could not guess, but the girl had been raised by Fanny, which was no good portent. Doubtless they two would ally together to win their goal.
If only men were not so often foolish about pretty girls.
If only Helena were not so very, very lovely. Truly, the girl was an incomparable beauty, which was the worst possible luck.
Damien, Constance well knew, would be unshakable once he settled upon a bride, no matter how unsuitable the lady in question might be. She knew the obstinacy of her son well. It would be prudent to resolve Helena’s match before Damien returned to Haynesdale, whenever that might prove to be.
Indeed, that had been the impetus behind hosting a ball in less than a fortnight’s time—it would be a sensible investment with the objective of seeing Helena matched before Damien’s return—yet Constance had not been able to secure the appearances of more than a handful of eligible young men.
None of them could hold a candle to Damien, either in looks or fortune.
She was not an overly proud mama: she was honest.
And she was vexed.
Constance was considering her own limited possibilities for ensuring a happy outcome when a caller was announced. She rose as Viscount Addersley stepped into the room and bowed to her, and found herself smiling in genuine welcome. How she liked this young man, who was not so young anymore. She calculated quickly. He was several years older than her daughter Eliza, but much younger than her son Damien. Why, he must have seen thirty summers by now.
She blinked in realization of a simple truth. Joshua Hargood was of an eligible age, possessed of a fortune and a title, tall and handsome and not without assets of his own. In her view, his character was one of the best. His dark brown hair had a wave to it, his eyes were green and thickly lashed, his profile such that he could have been used as a model for a statue of Adonis.
He had been his father’s pride and joy.
She could only admire a man who had surrendered, along with his brother, to the temptations of London yet managed to extricate himself to establish a respectable life. There had been, of course, the tragedy, but Constance knew many men whose path would not have been altered about it.
Of course, the viscount was not a garrulous man. Indeed, he could sit in silence for longer than she found reasonable. He was not a fool, though, his gaze sharp and incisive, and she doubted he missed many details.
