“You do not need to hurry off, Miss MacCallum. If we put our minds to it, we can probably think of other things you can do. I already have several in mind myself.”
She wondered what those might be. Unfortunately, he was looking at her in that too warm a manner again. “I need to finish this tonight, then get my rest so I am fresh for Nora in the morning. Perhaps tomorrow you can tell me your other ideas.”
“As you prefer.”
She hurried up the stairs to write her advertisements.
* * *
Two days later, two things occurred at breakfast that ensured Eric would not enjoy the day.
The first happened while he perused theTimes. He normally did not read the advertisements, but because they appeared on the front page, one could hardly avoid them. This day, while he scanned them to see if any of his partnerships were calling for more funds, his gaze landed on a short notice and halted there.
Desire to make contact with anyone who once lived near Caxledge in Northumberland. Replies with directions can be left at Montague Stationers on Norwich Street.”
Norwich Street was not far from Hume’s home. While any number of persons might want to contact someone who once lived in Northumberland, he suspected he knew who this person might be.
The second thing to happen was far more disagreeable. A hand-delivered message came while he read his mail. It was another invitation to be received by His Majesty, this time at three o’clock.
He had planned to spend the afternoon doing other things, and fought the temptation to respond with his regrets. That would never do, much as he wanted it to do very neatly. And so, at quarter to the hour in question, he entered St. James’s.
No Haversham greeted him. Rather, one of the pages immediately showed up to escort him. Across the large chamber they paced, through the door, and through several chambers until they reached a private one used by the king.
His Majesty waited there in all his corpulent excess. He looked displeased, which transformed his mouth into an unpleasant pout. Seeing Eric hardly changed his demeanor. Ever since Eric had voted against his divorce, the king had let his dislike be known.
Haversham stood beside the king. He smiled a greeting, along with a bow.
“Brentworth,” the king said. “Good of you to come. We’ve a situation here and need to plan how to address it.”
“His Majesty refers to Miss MacCallum’s claim,” Haversham said.
“He knows what I refer to,” the king snapped. “Don’t you, Brentworth?”
“I deduced that much. Two invitations in a week, no less. This matter can’t be serious enough for that.”
“It’s damnable serious.”
“I think he was making a joke, Your Majesty,” Haversham bent to speak in the king’s ear. “He was not making light of your concern.”
“I can speak for myself, Haversham. Yes, it is serious. Whenever someone wants to steal land from my inherited honor, it is most serious.”
It was not the answer the king wanted. He frowned furiously. “You only inherited it because my father gave it to a Brentworth before you. It is officially ours to give or take.”
“It has been a very long time since a king has taken lands from a duke without that duke being attainted,” Eric said. “A very, very long time.” He looked the king right in the eye. “The peerage would not take such a thing well at all, as I’m sure your advisers have explained.”
That quelled the king. He looked at Haversham desperately before regaining his severity. “See here, it may be serious for you, to your mind, but it is much more serious for us. We’ll not have this minor bit of land resulting in our name being bandied about. Or that of our father! She went to Stratton’s duchess and told her about this, and who knows where that will lead. That woman owns that damn journal and has no sense of decorum. She savaged her own family in a story, so expecting her to respect the Crown is hopeless. Furthermore—”
“The duchess will not print rumors and innuendo. It is not in her nature, nor would it benefit her journal. If it gives you any reassurance, she has promised me as a favor to desist in any interest in this until the matter is settled.”
“The gossips will get hold of it anyway. They always do.”
“As you may know, I dislike being the object of it as much as Your Majesty, perhaps even more. Regrettably, I cannot silence every gossip.”
“There are some who don’t like us,” the king muttered petulantly. “They will whisper we can’t keep our word. Disparage our honor. Defile our father’s name too. This must be . . . must be . . .”
“Nipped in the bud?” Haversham offered.
“Ripped out by its roots would be better,” the king snapped. He settled back and focused on Eric. “We’ve a plan.”
