“I don’t know. Yorkshire? Scotland? I’m still considering my options. That’s why I’m here.” Why was he so interested? I’d seen the man several times in society, but I wasn’t entirely certain I’d ever actually spoken to him.
“Right, apologies. I’ll leave you to your considerations,” he said and stood, his tone just pitiful enough to leave me with that sinking, gnawing, guilty sensation in my stomach. “Kit, see you tonight,” he directed toward Mr. Summers. The bell clinked again as he strode out the door and my eye gave another twitch.
Even though his presence had been thoroughly disconcerting, his absence was more so. I was left even more tetchy and on edge.
Mr. Summers peered his head in to let Will know he would be leaving early. “Tom thinks Jules is expecting, and Kate wants the whole family there for the announcement.”
For several seconds, I struggled to process that information.
When Mr. Summers disappeared back into his office, Will returned our conversation to my flimsy excuse for a visit.
I was still peevish over Mr. Grayson’s nosy questions, flustered over Cee’s plot, and preoccupied by the mysterious man from the night before. I shouldn’t have been surprised when my mouth answered for me again.
“I’ve been meaning to travel for some time. And I expect I may settle more permanently at one of the estates.” As the words formed, they became truth. They flowed freely, as they had with that gentleman last night. I wanted it, desperately. To be anywhere but here, somewhere free.Scotland.
A sharp cough came from the alley. Right, Gabe’s murder. “I would need to set up provisions for Mother and Davina. Gabe traveled a great deal. Did he have anything in place?”
Will’s gaze narrowed again with suspicion. “Not that I’m aware of,” he drawled. “But I was not his solicitor, your father was still alive, and your sister still a child. I imagine the arrangements were somewhat less complicated.”
Damn… My mouth dropped open, and I waited, breath baited, for it to save me again. Seconds passed before I realized no salvation would come. Floundering, I replied, “It’s been solong, I nearly forgot. I’m so forgetful. You were friends, right? You and Gabriel.” It was stilted, to be sure, but I managed to keep the focus on my brother.
A glance to the side revealed a hint of blonde hair in the window.Damn it all, Celine!
“Friendsis a strong term… Why are you asking me about your brother?” Something about my gaze must have drawn his own, because he trailed off with a puzzled expression directed at the window.
“Oh, you know, just reminiscing,” I blurted.
He shook his head, turning his attention back to me. “You mentioned Yorkshire and Scotland? If you’re looking to make improvements, I would recommend the Scotland property. It could use some work and I think it would be well worth your efforts. If it were in better repair, should you choose to take a wife, you could summer there. Or you could sell it at great profit.”
Outside the window, there was a commotion, a man shouting, “Bonjour, Madame,” clear as a bell.
A sharp crack rang out, then the distinctivethunkof someone bracing themselves against a wall to prevent a fall. A feminine lilt in the falsest Scottish accent ever uttered replied, insisting she was not who the person claimed her to be. Masculine protests followed, slipping farther away.
Will rose to peer out the window, and I called out to him—dragging his attention back to me.
I rose and backed out of the room slowly. He stared, expectant, as I made my escape. “Well, that was strange. You’ve given me a great deal to think on. I should be going now.” And once again, my lips spoke from my heart instead of my head. “Do you think you can draw up some paperwork to keep Mother and Davina from bankrupting us if I travel for an extended time?”
“I can… You’re really not going to address that?” he asked, nodding toward the window.
“I have no idea what that was about. Some poor Scotswoman accosted on the street.”
“Right… I’ll draw up some paperwork. Perhaps daily and weekly spending limits with the most likely culprits, modiste and the like. You go see to your poor Scotswoman.”
“Thank you!”
“Yes. And, Your Grace?”
“Yes?”
“Next time, come alone?” His voice tipped up at the end, as though it were a question, but it was so obviously a statement, an order, that I abandoned my pathetic guise.
“All right,” I said and slipped out the door. The damned bell offered one last grating ding as I backed onto the street.
As soon as I was out of view of the glass door, Celine grabbed my arm and yanked me a few feet away. “Well? What did he seem like? Did you notice anything circumspect about him?”
“Celine?”
“Yes?”
