When she was gone, Drew allowed herself to look at the duke. He stared after his sister with a mix of disbelief and disappointment.
When she was gone, his eyes met Drew’s. They exchanged a look. It was the sort of shared expression that conveyed one partdid you hear what I heard?and another partbloody, bleeding hell.
The duke cleared his throat.
“Perhaps you might join me in the next room, Miss Trelayne?” he said. “Allow me to elaborate on one or two . . . points?”
“Perhaps that would be best,” said Drewsmina, rising.
Ordinarily, she would press for openness and honest speech in front of her young clients.
Ordinarily, secrets were discouraged.
But nothing about this was ordinary.
“Girls,” said Lachlan tiredly, “carry on with your tea.” He strode from the room.
Drewsmina smiled at them tightly, smoothed her skirt, and followed.
Chapter Six
Don’t go,Don’tgo, Don’t go.Ian strode down the corridor with only one thought.
She must not go.
He pounced on the third door he came upon, a small cloakroom that serviced the ballroom. Snatching a lit candle from the hall, he ducked inside, motioning for her to follow. When she stepped in, he swung the door shut behind her.
“Please do not go,” he said.
She spun around. “Where are—? What is this?”
“Cloakroom,” he said dismissively. He was lighting sconces. “The servants. I cannot abide eavesdropping.”
He blew out his candle and tossed it on the countertop. “The Order of Temple in Eden?Whatin God’s name?”
“I believe your niece said, ‘TheTemple of Order in Eden.’ Which allows for the initials—”
“T.O.E.,” he finished. “Bloody, bleeding hell. This is so much more dire than I—well, than I had hoped. How foolish of me. Of course it’s worse. Have you heard of this... this T.O.E.?”
She shook her head. “If nothing else, Imogene has found a way to poke fun.”
“Oh yes, how hilarious she is,” Ian said. “The Temple of Order in Eden. What has my sister done?”
“The girls and their mother have not shared their recent history with you?” ventured Miss Trelayne. “Nothing at all?”
He turned his head to look at her. “No. They haven’t. Most brothers and uncles would have elicited this information. I shouldn’t blame Timothea, this is my fault.”
“Before we lay blame, Your Grace, will you say if you’ve been... estranged from your sister and nieces?” She did not accuse so much as suggest.
“No, not estranged. That is, my sister and I were never close. Our childhood was unhappy. She’s ten years older. Also, she’s a—a breed apart.”
Standing in one spot suddenly seemed like an exercise he could not endure. He began to pace. “She was married to an odd duck of a baron, but they got on well enough. I wasn’t yet duke when the twins were born. We exchanged infrequent letters and saw each other less. I did several years in the army, fought in Spain. After her husband died, I sent for her and the girls, imploring them to return to Avenelle, but she refused. She wrote that they would recover best in their own home. I—God help me, I took her at her word. My life had grown complicated; I didn’t have the will to argue—I left it.
“When next I inquired, she wrote that a local clergyman had begun to minister to them. Again she refused to return to Avenelle. Her letters suggested that they were improving.
“‘Friends from church are a comfort to the girls and me,’ she wrote.
“‘Please do not disrupt our grief,’ she wrote.
