Thomas’s mouth twitched as though he might smile, but he did not. “Of course, Your Grace.”
James waited until Thomas had gone, then sat by the hearth and forced himself to eat.
Not because he was hungry.
Because Eleanor had waited.
And because a man who allowed a woman to wait for him twice did not deserve her composure.
By the time James reached the stables, the air had sharpened into a clean winter bite.
It suited his mood.
He tightened his grip on the reins as the groom led his horse out, the animal stamping once against the frost-stiff ground. James preferred riding to driving. It required attention. It punished distraction. It made the body honest.
And he needed honesty.
Not about his work.
About the fact that he had eaten a tray of breakfast because his wife had sent it to his room like an offering, and it had made something in him twist.
Thomas had been right, infuriatingly. Eleanor had taken control of the household as though she had always been meant to.
James swung into the saddle and set off, the estate falling away behind him in a blur of bare trees and iron gates.
It took hours to reach his cousin’s estate. It was one of the nearer properties, positioned conveniently for men who needed distance from London but could not afford to be too far from it. James rode hard, arriving with his mind sharpened by cold and speed.
Roderick was waiting, exactly where James expected him to be, near the stables, waiting for him.
He turned at James’s approach, grin widening. “Langford.”
James dismounted without ceremony. “You’re early.”
“I live here,” Roderick said.
James handed his reins to the groom and walked toward the house without waiting. Roderick fell into step beside him, uninvited as ever.
“You look as though you’ve wrestled a bear,” Roderick observed. “And lost.”
“I overslept.”
Roderick’s brows shot up. “You? Overslept?”
James gave him a look.
“Oh,” Roderick said, drawing the word out. “This is not about sleep.”
James pushed open the door to the study. It smelled faintly of old books and smoke, comfortingly familiar. He crossed to the table and unrolled the packet Thomas had ensured reached him before he left.
Roderick’s gaze flicked to it, then back to James’s face. “New information.”
“Yes.”
“About your parents.”
James’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”
They sat. James spread the documents across the desk. The notes, names, dates, a map marked in pencil. Roderick leaned in, all humor gone.
