“Why can’t you tell me where you are going?” she said, her eyes narrowed. A flutter of guilt ran through him. They still had not really discussed what had happened with Baron Falk, either. Not the way they should have.
Why was he always, somehow, failing Henrietta?
“I will tell you once I have spoken to Mr. Lawson. It must be pressing if he has come here with no notice. Please tell Mrs. Morrison that I will meet him downstairs in the study. Then, I promise, I will tell you what I am doing.”
He would explain it quickly, he resolved. He wouldn’t reveal Catherine’s identity. Just that he had fallen in love with Miss Aster and wanted to propose to her. To relay the entire story before his departure would be impossible.
Henrietta did not move from the spot.
“Please. I promise I will explain once I have spoken to Mr. Lawson. Whatever the devil he wants.”
Henrietta met his eye and nodded. This quiet acquiescence, more than anything else, made John believe that Henrietta had really feared for his life. Usually, she would have rolled her eyes and called him a rude name.
Henrietta exited his chamber.
John sighed and looked at himself in the glass.
He would deal with his solicitor and his sister and then he would go and find the woman he loved.
Love.The word had threaded through his fever dreams. He should have told her when he had proposed marriage. He had been so focused on what kept them apart and how it could be surmounted. He should have told her that he would do anything for her, that without her his life made no sense.
He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
John entered his study and found Mr. Lawson waiting for him.
“Your Grace,” he said, giving a little bow, “I am much relieved to hear of your recovery.”
“Thank you, Mr. Lawson,” he said, “but I am about to go on a journey, so please make haste.”
“I visited Mary Forster. Or, as I should say, Mrs. Mary Ryerson.”
John nodded.
“She has accepted the annuity. If you hadn’t convinced her before, the letter from your father seemed to accomplish the task.”
“Delightful,” he ground out, trying to make it as clear as possible that he didn’t care at present for the resolution of his father and Mrs. Ryerson’s oldtendre.
Mr. Lawson gave a tight smile in response.
“The will has been completely executed now. The money that would have gone to Baron Falk will not leave the trust for Lady Henrietta. There is, however, one last thing.”
John’s heart dropped. “What the devil do you mean, Lawson?”
“I am sorry,” the man said. “I didn’t mean to give alarm. The will has been completely executed. The dukedom and everything that your father owned besides is now completely yours, with no encumbrances. I did promise His Grace, however, that I would give you this letter once you had found Mary Forster and she had accepted the annuity officially.”
Mr. Lawson drew a square of paper from his coat and placed it on his desk.
John felt sick to his stomach. For the first time since he had awakened that morning, leaving for London left his mind.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Lawson. Why didn’t you give me this letter earlier?”
Mr. Lawson grimaced. “I promised His Grace that I would deliver the letter only after you found Mary Forster. We were not just lord and solicitor, but friends. I respected him and felt sorrow for his troubles. I hope you do not find it impertinent for me to say so.”
“Out,” he commanded. “We are done here.”
John wanted to add,for good, but he stopped himself.
Mr. Lawson was correct. He and his father had been friends and he did not want to be vindictive to a man who had been loyal to his family for so long, particularly when he might later think better of it. Still, he found his withholding of such a letter while he had twisted in the wind hard to tolerate at this moment.
