“Well, that makes two of us.” Rhys sighed as he stood. But what could he do to force Louisa to confess as much to him? “But what can I do?”
“Nothing I suppose, if Miss Babcock is sure of Lord Dawson’s intentions.”
“His intentions?”
“Yes. You said yourself that you suspected Lord Dawson of only wanting to marry Miss Babcock because of her dowry. You could test the man.”
“And how would I do that? I won’t withdraw my promise to give her a dowry.”
“Nor do I think you should. But perhaps you could stall it for a bit? Tell them that all your finances are tied up and you won’t be able to afford a dowry for, oh, six months or so I suppose.”
“Six months?”
“It’s not a terribly long time to wait, particularly for someone as lovely as Miss Babcock.” Rhys noticed a slight heightening of color on the man’s cheeks when he mentioned Kitty. He looked down at the drawings, trying to focus on the work at hand. “But it might be too long of a wait for Lord Dawson.”
“Hm…”
Though Rhys wasn’t the sort of man to test another, he couldn’t help but agree that Mr. Trench’s idea was a sound one. But how would he do it? If he spoke to Lord Dawson alone, he would know instantly by his reaction whether or not his intentions for Kitty were true. If Lord Dawson really wanted to marry Kitty, it wouldn’t matter, but if he reacted poorly to having to wait months before receiving Kitty’s dowry, well, it would prove that his instincts about their nuptials were right. But Rhys knew he needed to do so out in the open, so that Lord Dawson couldn’t deny his reaction.
Then, Rhys had an idea.
“Tell me, Mr. Trench, would you care to dine with us tonight?”
Mr. Trench glanced up from his drawings and gave Rhys a single nod.
“Yes, I think I would.”
Dinner that eveningwas a disaster. The cook Louisa had hired, Mrs. Fulton, had grossly overstated her abilities in the kitchen. The potatoes were overboiled, which gave the vegetable the texture of glue, while the carrots were undercooked and without seasoning. The duck, however, was roasted to perfection, and while the ratafia cake had collapsed, the taste was exquisite. It was a hectic and uninspired meal, but Louisa had managed to keep the conversation light and flowing.
“Lord Dawson, what do you and my sister plan to do once you return from Gretna Green?” Louisa asked when the ratafia cake was cleared from the table.
“Well, we will likely set up house in London, to be near my brothers,” he answered, smiling at Kitty, who was sat between Lord Dawson and Mr. Trench. Her fiancé reached for her hand and squeezed it. “You’ll enjoy it there, I’m sure. It’s considerably posher than where Sir Malcom lives.”
“Ah. Mayfair then?” Rhys asked.
“Yes.”
“Goodness, I didn’t think we’d be living in Mayfair,” Kitty said breathlessly. “It’s rather expensive to live in Mayfair, isn’t it?”
“Darling, don’t concern yourself with such trivial things.” He winked. “We’ll be able to live comfortably, be sure of that.”
Louisa glanced at Rhys and though her face was perfectly blank, her eyes showed her anxiety. This was it. Time to uncover the truth.
“Well,” Rhys said, leaning back in his chair. “I am glad to hear that. Kitty deserves everything she desires, according to my wife. And I’m pleased that my sister-in-law has been blessed with such apatientman.”
“Yes, well, I…” Lord Dawson started. He had brought a glass of wine to his lips but paused. “Patient? In what way?”
Rhys inhaled deeply.
“Her pin money. I’m sure Sir Malcom explained it?”
“Explained what exactly?” Lord Dawson asked, placing his glass on the table while Kitty, Louisa, and Mr. Trench stared at Rhys.
“Well, that she shan’t receive any of it for at least twelve months.”
Mr. Trench’s brow rose, since Rhys had extended his suggested time frame by six months, but Rhys was determined to push Lord Dawson.
“Twelve months?”
