Because of Montgomery’s generosity, people would not have to take her in, show her charity. She’d have enough money to set up her own household no matter what happened in the future.
“Is my husband returning to America, Mr. Kerr?”
The solicitor didn’t answer her immediately. Finally, after an agonizing minute, he shook his head. “I have not been told that, Lady Fairfax.”
“Would he tell you?”
His face settled into disapproving lines. Was he annoyed because she’d asked? Or annoyed at the thought of Montgomery doing anything without consulting him?
“He would have to do so, Lady Fairfax. There are any manner of details that would need to be arranged if His Lordship decided to return to Virginia.”
She told herself she should be grateful for the settlement and not delve further into Montgomery’s plans. Another example of meekly acquiescing to the future?
“If you’ll sign these, Lady Fairfax,” he said, “I’ll take them to the appropriate authorities. The next time you’ll see me will be in Scotland.”
“You’ll be in Scotland, Mr. Kerr?”
“I live in Scotland, Lady Fairfax. At Doncaster Hall.”
She signed where he indicated, keeping her emotions in check. Later, out of Mr. Kerr’s presence, she would think about everything he had said and whether to worry about it or not.
Montgomery’s errands had been successful, resulting in promises from several companies to expedite his orders to Scotland. London was too congested for his purposes. Edmund had assured him there was room enough in Scotland to do what he wished. He entered the townhouse with his thoughts occupied by the design of the air flow chambers only to be stopped by the sight of his wife.
Veronica was sitting on the steps.
He didn’t need any type of clairvoyant gift to figure out she was annoyed.
“You’re waiting for me, I see,” he said.
She didn’t speak, merely stood, walked down the steps, her gaze not leaving his. Instead of approaching him, however, she walked into the parlor, never glancing back to see if he followed.
Montgomery debated going on to his library and finishing the lists of equipment he needed, then discarded that thought. This conversation had been coming since the night before, when he’d decided it would be wiser to remain celibate than to bed a stranger.
Evidently, Veronica was angry about his decision.
That was not, however, the first comment she made when he followed her.
“Are you returning to America?”
He entered the parlor, a plainly decorated chamber, the antithesis of the room in which they’d been married. The Countess of Conley was given to an over appreciation of herfurnishings. Mrs. Gardiner was, blessedly, more restrained in her taste.
“We’re going to Scotland.”
Veronica clasped her hands together and looked up at him.
“Are you taking me with you?”
“What made you think I was traveling to Scotland without you?”
Relief flashed in her eyes, so quickly that if he’d not made a practice of studying the men in his command in the last four years, he might’ve missed it.
“When? When are we leaving?” she asked, flattening her hands against her skirts.
“This afternoon,” he said, realizing he should have told her earlier. He’d been used to thinking only of himself for so many years, he’d have to become acquainted with another person’s needs.
“The train leaves at two. Will you be ready?”
She nodded.
