Ian considered this. Did he hide from the people of his own class? Is that what he’d been doing in Dorset these last three years?Hiding?
Probably, he thought. But he hadn’t discovered any other way. He was hated by his tenants and hated by the establishment. And his culpability in the riot, despite good intent, could not be denied. He’d endeavored to justify his actions, but no one wanted excuses. They wanted only someone to blame.
And so he’d allowed it—what else he could he do? And when he could no longer tolerate the guilt and scorn, he’d disappeared. He was hardly welcomed back in Dorset, but Avenelle was his home, whether his tenants liked it or not. He was determined to restore their trust in him. This was why it was so very important that he eradicate the export duty. His craftsmen must be allowed to legally trade with the rest of the world and earn a living wage.
“Let us just say that I prefer to be invisible,” he said.
“Me, too,” Ivy enthused. “I prefer to be invisible.”
Ian paused, the wrongness of this statement as clear as his face in a mirror.
“No, no, Ivy,” he began gently. “You mustn’t strive for invisibility.” He glanced to Miss Trelayne. He was out of his depth. She would know what to say.
“It is my strong preference,” she declared.
“Well, you may value privacy, and you may keep your circle of trusted friends very small, but true invisibility is rather lonely. And it doesn’t allow you to do much good for anybody else. It’s sort of an... indulgence for all of that—invisibility. I never intended to stew in it myself. I’m using the time to make amends with my tenants.”
“I intend to remain invisible as long as I can,” declaredIvy, stroking the dog. “But now Miss Trelayne has come, and she’s forcing us tobe seen.”
“Yes,” said Ian, staring at Miss Trelayne. She must have felt his gaze because she looked up. “I suppose she is rather forceful on that score. It’s not a bad thing, in the end. You’ve nothing from which to hide. That is the difference between me and you.”
He was just about to summon Miss Trelayne when movement outside the window caught his eye. He leaned in, squinted, and saw it again. A tall, broad-shouldered man, dressed like a highwayman, was signaling to him with a bob of his hat. He lurked in the shadows near the drainpipe of the adjacent alley.
Rucker Loring.Ian blinked twice, shocked to see one of his Avenelle stewards standing in a Mayfair alleyway. Loring bobbed his hat again, the look on his face purposeful and a little urgent.
Ian swore and shoved to his feet, upsetting the dog. He’d hoped his tenants could get on without him for the early weeks of his time in London. He’d spent a fortnight briefing his stewards.
And now this. How long had he been away? Less than a month. Ian had bade the stewards to write if something went wrong—he’d no wish to return to any surprise crises—but he’d never expected one of them to actually leave Dorset to seek him out in London. Things must be very bad, indeed.
The young steward, like his other estate managers, was not a learned man, but one of the few locals Ian could trust. What leadership was required here, now, Ian couldn’t imagine.
“I need air, Ivy,” Ian said, not looking back at the girl. “I’m going out.”
“Oh, but may I come, Uncle?” asked Ivy.
“No, I’m afraid not. I’ve business with a man from Dorset. Be a good girl and do not leave the shop until I return.”
Miss Trelayne must have heard the note of commandin his voice, because she took three steps toward him, her eyes wide.
“I’ve an errand, Miss Trelayne,” he called to her. “I’ll be back presently. Can you and the girls wait for me here?”
“Yes, of course, Your Grace,” she said.
Ian nodded and shoved out the door, upsetting a trio of customers—a young man and two women—reaching for the door at the same time.
“I beg your pardon,” exclaimed the young man, clearly offended by his haste.
“Mind yourself,” grumbled Ian and strode out the door.
Chapter Twelve
“Did the duke say where he was going?” Drew asked Ivy after he’d gone.
“No.” She was trying to lure the dog back into her lap.
“But was he upset? He seemed rather agitated when he left.”
“Perhaps he was bored of the dressmaker’s,” said Ivy.
