York. North. On the road to … Scotland. The idea slid into his mind so naturally he almost mistrusted it on principle. Isla hadspoken more than once, carefully, always carefully, of wishing to see Strathmore again with her own eyes. To reassure herself that the staff were housed, the tenants not left destitute. Alistair’s silence had disturbed her greatly.
If he suggested a journey north, on the face of it, to support her, to see the state of her family seat, no one could call it unreasonable. A dutiful husband accompanying his wife to her ravaged home.
A duke assessing, perhaps, a future investment. They could travel as far as York and stop there. A night, perhaps two. Enough time to call on Deverell. To look the man in the eye, to see if he recognized Isla or if she recognized him.
If she did, if some flicker of guilty recognition passed between them then Deverell’s statement would be confirmed. If she did not…
Relief tugged at him, unwilling and sharp. He wanted more than he liked to admit to find that he had been wrong. That Deverell’s accusations were colored by shame and Glenmore’s whispers. That Isla’s warmth in the hayloft, her fierce concern for Strathmore’s people, were not weapons but simply… her. He folded the letter, fingers resting on the crease.
“Thank you, Giles,” he said. “Has Her Grace gone out?”
“To the paddocks, I believe, Your Grace,” Giles replied. “Harold Godwin mentioned she wished to see the young grey worked on the long rein.”
“Very good,” he said. “If I am needed I will be in my study.”
***
Lady Eleanor did not trouble to knock. She burst into Edward’s study as if she were still Duchess, with claim to go where she wished.
“Edward, I wanted to talk to you about dear Charlotte …”
“And I do not. I am occupied,” Edward replied, tersely.
“I did not bring her here simply to aid me in the charity exhibition.”
“I am not so naive.”
“She was once very dear to you.”
Edward glared at his mother, slapping his hand against the surface of his desk.
“No, she was not. We were thrown together by agreement of our parents. I was never consulted. Neither was she.”
“That is how your father and I became married. That is how half the gentry of England become married.”
“Not me.”
“She came here at my request, putting aside her own engagements, to assist with the exhibition and to give you the opportunity to right the wrong you once did.”
“I have done no wrong to her. Nothing except end our engagement which was not one founded on love anyway. I just followed my desire to be free.”
“To escape your duty, you mean.”
Edward pinched the bridge of his nose, sudden weariness overcoming him.
“I grow tired of the same battle fought over and over, mother. Kindly surrender. It matters not that Charlotte is here for I will not be.” He picked up Latham’s letter from the desk, turning it over between his fingers. “This is from my solicitor,” he said. “Lord Deverell is in York. I mean to go there. With Isla.”
“Isla is gone,” his mother said.
The words were so at odds with the thought in his mind that for a moment they did not land.
He looked up sharply. “Gone?”
“Left this morning,” the Dowager replied. “Driving herself in the trap. I assumed you knew. She said you had agreed it was best.”
He rose so fast the chair tipped and fell.
“You let her leave,” he said. “Alone on the road.”
