There were moments when Padua’s quick mind proved inconvenient. “The prince regent first mentioned it to me, over a month ago.”
She stopped her horse, closed her eyes as if absorbing a blow, then opened them and moved on. “You would have been wiser to pursue one of those mistresses, Ives. A new wardrobe and a few jewels would be nothing compared to what I am going to cost you, I fear.”
***
As with their journey to Merrywood, Ives did not travel inside the carriage with Padua during their return to London. They had shared their parting kiss in the first light of dawn before leaving the magic behind. She did not mind. It would be too sad to sit with him for days, trying to pretend her heart was not breaking.
He did climb in after her when they rolled away from the last coaching inn. “I have told the coachman to bring you to Langley House,” he said. “I will leave you after we pass the last tollgate.”
“I do not need to go to Langley House again. I should not.”
“You will, for tonight at least. Tomorrow I will join you and help you find a place to live. You have the money I found in the books, so letting an apartment should not be a problem.”
She almost reminded him that she had promised not to spend that money. She worried that he saw giving her that money as one more compromise in a whole line of them.
After the last tollgate, the carriage stopped. He grabbed the door latch, ready to hop out. He stopped and looked at her, then took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply.
Then he was gone.
She allowed the carriage to bring her to Langley House. She even stayed there that night. The next morning, however, she did not wait for Ives to call on her.She packed her valise, asked for a hired carriage, and set off.
She had no appointment, but Mr. Notley received her. She sat across from him in his office, as she had before, with his clerk to the side jotting notes.
Mr. Notley smiled, pleased with himself. “I have been very clever regarding this inheritance, if I do say so myself. It took some doing.”
“I am grateful.”
Notley leaned back in his chair, his fingers forming one of the steeples he created when he thought. “I had to convince the gaoler to trick your father into giving his place of birth. You do not want to know how he did that. It will only distress you. Once I knew the parish in Essex from which he hailed, I sent a clerk down to investigate his family back two generations. We mapped the family tree, then began looking for wills under those names. And, dear lady, we found it.”
He leaned forward. “Did you know that your father’s name is actually John Hadrian Belvoir? Had we not learned that at the parish, all would have been for naught, since in this will he is called John H. Belvoir. No wonder it took the lawyers forever to track him down.”
“Perhaps Papa thought Hadrian sounded more scholarly than plain old John. He can be vain that way.”
“John Belvoir inherited a property as you hoped. Right here in London. A house.”
“If he owns a house here, why did he let rooms?”
“I assume he lets out the house. He would not need all that space himself.”
I could have lived there, too, however. She pushed the spike of resentment aside. “Have you seen this house?”
“I have not. I was not authorized to visit, and assess it. I would have no standing to enter.”
“I have seen it,” his clerk said.
Notley turned to him. “Have you now?”
“I walked past it. I was curious. It is a handsome house, Miss Belvoir. Larger than most, on a good street.”
The clerk’s report heartened her. “May I have the address, please.”
The clerk wrote it down and brought over the paper. She stuffed it in her reticule.
“Now,” Mr. Notley said, “I am afraid I have other news that is not so happy. As I wrote, the trial date has indeed been set. I was able to see the full charges, and a new one has been added.”
She dreaded hearing more, but of course she must. “What new one is that?”
Notley’s lips folded in on themselves. “Sedition. That means—”
