“Rudyard is also your grandson,” Caro pointed out.
“Humph. He does not deserve the designation. He has let his greed get the better of him, which has turned him against his own family. Rudyard does not care about Leo—he only wants the dukedom, never mind that it’s bankrupt.”
Likely Rudyard thought he could find a way to turn the estate’s hardships around. Caro longed to know where he thought he’d come by the money to do so.
Another avenue to investigate, she decided. Caro had already sent a barrage of letters to those who might be able to help. If she could find enough fault in Rudyard, and enough respectable people to declare in court that he would be a terrible guardian, she might have a chance.
Colonel Harper, who’d shared the dance set with her and Eamon at the ball, was one person she’d approached. Mrs. Harper had sent back a note of sympathy and a promise to do what they could.
Jo’s father, Prince Rupert, while he held no political power in Britain, did have influence, much as Queen Charlotte did, as did Jo’s mother, Princess Maude. The three of them might not be able to change laws, but people listened to their opinions.
Caro would leave no stone unturned. Her letters had already produced a few results, she’d noted with satisfaction when she’d read her morning correspondence. Hearsay only, so far, but it was a start.
“Thank you, Maman,” Caro said. “I appreciate you writing to the queen. It could be helpful.”
The dowager set down the cup of coffee she’d raised to her lips with a firm click.
“Caro, you are a fine and kindhearted young woman. Too kindhearted for your own good, I’ve always thought. But the moment I saw how happy you made Leopold—and you have no idea how unhappy he’d been—I decided to like you. Since then, I’ve grown to love you for yourself. You make Leo an excellent mother, no matter what the resentful snobs outside these windows say. I will ensure Leo remains in your care, do not worry.” She lifted the cup again. “Besides, if Rudyard manages to take over, he’ll turn us out of this house, and the estate, and I am too old to move to new quarters.”
Caro astonished the woman by leaving her seat, coming around the table, and enfolding the dowager in an embrace.
“Thank you, Maman.” Caro pressed a kiss to her mother-in-law’s powdered cheek, while the dowager stared, her cup frozen in her fingers. “You have a tender heart as well, as much as you pretend you do not.”
The dowager continued her cold gaze for a moment, before she softened. As Caro released her, she winked. “Tell no one, my dear. I have a reputation to uphold.”
Caro laughed and kissed her again, then returned to her seat, daring to let herself hope a little.
“Are you certain you want to do this?” Sam asked Eamon.
Eamon was again in the tavern in Maiden Lane, having made himself leave Caro’s house at sunset and not think of an excuse to ascend to her bedchamber.
“Very certain.”
Sam Noble, who occupied the inglenook once more, regarded Eamon severely over the glass of strong whisky Eamon had stood him.
“I like you, Stone. But ye know what happens if I never see my money again, don’t ye? I can’t make an exception for ye, lad.”
“I repay my debts,” Eamon said without worry. “It is why I haven’t fled to the Continent a half-step ahead of my creditors like so many dandies who spend far beyond their means.”
“The best way to stay out of debt is not to have any in the first place,” Sam said sternly.
“Such wise words. If only you could have talked that sort of sense into my father. Not to mention the dukes of Aylesmore.”
“Your father was beyond listening to sense, though he could finagle his way out of anything, that man. You have his gift of gab, and well you know it.” Sam’s eyes went flinty. “How do I know you’re not using it on me now?”
“I am a little bit,” Eamon admitted. “To persuade you that my cause is just. I am trying to save a lady, as I told you.”
“Better throw the money into the gutter and have done, then. Ladies are insatiable. She’ll bleed you dry, son.”
“You haven’t met my lady.” Eamon warmed as he thought of how Caro’s eyes would light up when he returned the painting. She might thank him with a few kisses as well. “Besides, it’s not only for her, but for her son, a little lad I’m taken with. I think you befriended a similar lad some years ago.”
“More fool me.” Sam scowled, but Eamon knew he’d already won him over. “The money will be delivered to ye.”
Eamon moved his not-too-clean glass on the table. “Delivered?”
“Ye wouldn’t make it a step down the road if I gave it to ye here. I don’t want to trip over your sliced-up body on my walk home.”
“I’m fairly tough, Sam. Not the spindly little boy you knew.”
