“I will keep you apprised of our progress.” Kent bowed. “We will leave you to your rest.”
“Our wishes for your speedy recovery, your grace,” Mrs. Kent said.
“May I visit again?” Miss Kent blurted. “To inquire on your health?”
Her request surprised... and touched him. “If you wish,” he said gruffly.
“I’ll be here in the afternoons,” Annabel chirped up. “So I could chaperone.”
Kent’s brows came together. “Emma, it isn’t safe. After all, the duke has been targeted—”
“You saw the footmen outside, darling,” Mrs. Kent cut in, “and now there’s to be armed guards as well. This place is more secure than St. James’s Palace.”
Kent looked as if he might argue further, but his wife took him by the arm and led him toward the door. “I’ll accompany Emma the day after tomorrow. Would two o’clock suit, Annabel?”
“Perfectly, Marianne.”
To Alaric, the look shared by the two ladies appeared suspiciously... conspiratorial.
Chapter Thirteen
Accompanied by Marianne, Emma returned to Strathaven’s residence two days later. The Palladian townhouse looked even more imposing with the armed guards flanking the entrance. Mr. Jarvis showed them inside, and she saw that his gait was as slow and shuffling as the last time. Removing a jar from the basket she was carrying, she handed it to him.
“’Tis a salve that relieves aching joints,” she said. “I thought you might like to try it.”
“Right kind o’ ye, miss. Much obliged,” he said with a wide smile.
As he led her and Marianne through the foyer, she asked, “How is his grace faring today?”
“He’s much recovered. Been through worse. His grace ain’t no dainty English fop, but a Scot through and through.”
Emma heard the pride in the butler’s voice. “Have you worked for him long?”
“Worked for Strathavens my whole life, miss. I was there that first day his grace arrived at Strathmore Castle. Nine years old, he was, and the new ward of the former duke.”
Emma recalled what Annabel had said about Strathaven being raised apart from his brother at a young age. “Why did he come to live here when he had his own family?”
“His father was a distant cousin to the old duke. When the duke’s own son died and he and the duchess couldna have another, he took the young master in.”
Emma pondered this as the butler slowly led them up one sweeping wing of the double staircase. “Wasn’t he sad to be parted from his family and at so young an age?” Put in his situation, her heart would have torn in two.
“Not every family is a happy one, dear,” Marianne murmured.
“Canna say I know much about that. Even as a lad, his grace was never the sort to wear his heart on his sleeve.” Pausing on the landing, Mr. Jarvis looked back at Emma, his rheumy gaze unexpectedly shrewd. “He’s got his reasons to protect it, but if you approach with a patient, kind hand, you’ll see his bark is worse than his bite.”
Before Emma could digest that, Mrs. McLeod came toward them.
“Emma, thank goodness you’ve come,” the auburn-haired beauty said. “Strathaven is in quite the temper today.”
“I may not improve that situation,” Emma said truthfully.
“Nonsense. He has been asking for you.”
“He has?” Her heart gave a silly little hiccup. “He wants to see me?”
“His precise words wereI thought the chit was supposed to be here at two.” Winking, Mrs. McLeod nudged her toward the door. “Why don’t you go on in, dear. I have something to discuss with Marianne, and we’ll be in shortly.”
With a fortifying breath, Emma ventured into the bedchamber.
