Mr. Moulton cleared his throat again and nodded toward the stairs. “I will ensure that the first quarter’s rent is paid and the paperwork is in order, but there is no reason you cannot take possession of the property tomorrow.”
Motioning toward the stairs, they descended into the shop as the solicitor explained the final processes required to conclude the business with Dunsby Hall and the shop. And with that, it would all be over.
Or rather, it would all begin anew.
Frederick nodded appropriately, though his mind was already forming a list of everything required to bring his new home up to snuff. The staff’s wages were paid through the end of the quarter, and Dunsby Hall was practically shut up, leaving them little to do. Surely he could borrow a maid to make it livable.
Yet even as he considered that, Frederick dismissed it. He needed to learn how to manage on his own, though he hadn’t the slightest notion what tools were required to clean or whereto purchase them. Perhaps he could speak to the staff about that. Asking for information wasn’t the same as asking them to do the work—
A sharp rap on the front door had both men glancing at the window. Outside, in the bright afternoon sun, stood a figure wrapped in a cloak, her hood pulled low, though it was a poor attempt at stealth; Frederick couldn’t say who it was, but the overt secrecy was bound to draw attention and encourage others to look all the harder.
Reaching over, Frederick pulled up the latch, and the woman swept inside whilst keeping her face averted from the roadway.
“Miss Ashbrook?” he asked, and the lady turned enough for him to see for certain that it was, in fact, her.
“I do apologize, Mr. Voss,” she said, glancing at the windows and turning away with bright red cheeks as she pulled at the edge of the hood, blocking herself from the people on the street. “I know it is unseemly for a lady to call on a gentleman—”
“But not her solicitor,” said Mr. Moulton smoothly. “Legal matters can be quite urgent and need to be discussed without delay.”
Bless the man, for the words cast a spell over Miss Ashbrook, and that frantic energy causing her to fidget faded, and though she hesitated a moment, she pushed back the hood—even as her hands shook when she faced Frederick.
“You must speak to Thea.”
Chapter 38
“Aunt Nanette and Uncle Adam are guarding her closely, and Thea cannot slip away,” said Mina, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her cloak. Mr. Moulton reached over and removed it, and she nodded in thanks, though she kept her attention on her quarry.
“That may be, but I fear we have nothing to say,” replied Frederick, motioning toward the door.
“Why are you being so stubborn?” she asked, though her eyes widened as though shocked at her own outburst.
“I am doing what is best for her,” insisted Frederick.
“You are breaking her heart!” Miss Ashbrook flinched, though she held firm, not looking away even as her eyes glimmered; Mr. Moulton tugged a handkerchief from his pocket, and she took it. “I apologize for being so weepy, but it pains me to see her hurting. I cannot bear it any longer.”
“You wish me to bring her here?” asked Frederick, waving his hands to the vacant shop, which, though suitable enough for his needs, was a far cry from the halls of Rensford Park. “I am sorry for causing you and Miss Keats any pain, but I am doing so to avoid greater heartache in the future.”
“You aren’t protecting her from anything,” said Miss Ashbrook, lowering the handkerchief with a scowl. “She hasdefied her parents, and they are casting her out. I can aid her some, but I am certain my father will stand with Uncle on this business, so my power is limited.”
Frederick stared at her, the words hitting with the force of a blow. Cast out? For a heartbeat, he could only blink, unable to take it in. Then heat rose, sharp and furious, burning through every trace of composure he’d managed to hold onto.
“Dash it all!” he groaned, raking a hand through his hair as he turned away, his boots striking hard against the floorboards as Frederick paced. The image of Thea standing defiant before her parents flashed in his mind, and he could well imagine the battle that had ensued. He drew a long breath, willing the fire in his chest to cool. Fury would do no good here. It never did.
Miss Ashbrook watched him warily, her expression a careful balance of worry and accusation, and Frederick forced himself to meet her gaze.
“I will speak with her,” he said at last, his tone tight but measured. “This madness must stop before it ruins her entirely, but I shall require your assistance.”
***
The mellow light of late afternoon bathed the garden, gilding every leaf and blossom. The air was warm and still, thick with the scent of roses and sun-warmed earth, and the long shadows of the hedges stretched across the gravel paths in sharp, dark lines. Bees moved lazily among the lavender, their hum blending with the distant call of a thrush, and beyond the neatly trimmed hedges, the parkland stretched wide and green, the trees laden with leaves that stirred lazily in the summer breeze.
Thea wandered along the path that followed the rose beds, her fingertips brushing the petals as she passed. Every sound and scent seemed sharper today, as though eager for her to remember them all; the crunch of gravel beneath her shoes, the sigh of wind through the elms, the flash of sunlight across the fountain’s surface all demanded her attention, pressing themselves indelibly into her mind.
This had always been her favorite hour, when the day exhaled and the world faded into quiet. Tomorrow, this would no longer be her home, so she drank in every detail and let its peace steady her.
Pausing at the end of the path, Thea glanced toward the long windows and spied Mama standing just inside, watching her daughter’s every step with grim determination, as though strength of will and a looming presence would convince her to stay. As time was running short, Thea supposed she ought to seize the opportunity to be with her mother, but the lady’s temperament was unbearable at present.
And there was more important business to attend to.
