Cartwright met Alexander’s gaze with calm patience, waiting. That alone told Alexander a great deal.
There was kindness in the man’s eyes, yes, but it was not the soft kind that came from sentimentality. It was tempered by intelligence and experience and suggested he missed very little of what happened around him.
Good.
Alexander needed a man who could think, not someone who merely followed instructions.
This man oversaw land, accounts, investments, negotiations. The quiet machinery that allowed the entire duchy to function. In many ways, Cartwright shared control over the most valuable assets in Alexander’s life. Which meant that if he could not trust him, then Alexander stood on dangerously uncertain ground.
“I will speak plainly,” Alexander said at last.
Cartwright nodded immediately, as though he had expected nothing less. “That is always best, Your Grace.”
Alexander leaned back slightly in his chair, folding one ankle over his knee while he considered how much to say. If Cartwright truly was the man Harris claimed him to be, then honesty here would serve him better than half-truths.
“I have suffered an accident,” he said. “One that resulted in… certain complications.”
Cartwright’s expression shifted subtly, concern replacing the quiet composure.
“I had heard there had been an incident,” he said slowly. “But the details were scarce.”
Alexander folded his hands loosely together, resting them against his knee as he considered the man across from him. “My memory has been affected.”
Cartwright blinked once, the only outward sign that the statement had truly surprised him. “In what way, Your Grace?”
Alexander held the older man’s gaze, weighing his next words carefully. If he intended to continue running his affairs properly, then the man across from him needed to understand the situation in full.
“I remember nothing,” he said slowly. “I understand how trade agreements work. I recognize ledgers, contracts, properties that belong to the duchy. When I read financial reports, they make sense to me.”
Cartwright listened intently, his posture straightening slightly.
Alexander continued. “But that knowledge exists without the memories that should accompany it.”
Cartwright’s brows drew together as he leaned back slightly in his chair, exhaling in a slow and thoughtful manner that suggested he was already turning the information over in his mind.
“I see.”
The older man’s sharp eyes seemed thoughtful rather than startled. Alexander decided he appreciated that.
“I have been told you are trustworthy,” he said at last.
A faint smile touched the older man’s mouth. “Those are kind words.”
“It is also why I asked you here.”
Cartwright straightened slightly in his chair, his posture shifting with subtle readiness as though he understood that the conversation had not yet reached its most important point.
“How may I assist you, Your Grace?”
Alexander leaned back slightly, studying the man again for a moment longer while deciding how much to say. There was always risk in revealing weakness, especially to someone who oversaw such a significant portion of his affairs. But the simple reality remained that Cartwright already possessed access to the accounts, the contracts, the land agreements that kept the duchy functioning. Better that he heard the truth now.
Alexander’s voice lowered slightly when he spoke again. “I think I was attacked.”
Cartwright’s eyes sharpened immediately. “Attacked?”
“Yes.”
As he said the word, Alexander felt again the faint echo of pain at the back of his skull, a dull sensation that lingered like the shadow of a wound. The physician had explained the damage in careful terms, speaking of swelling and trauma, of memory disruption and the uncertain path of recovery. Yet the physical explanation had never fully satisfied him.
