William looked at his quill. “Twelve.”
“Yes.”
“I signed the quarterly reviews,” he said. “Every quarter, for three years, I signed them, and Harwood presented them, and I did not… I did not ask whether the requests had been received.” He set the quill down. “I should have asked.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have looked. I am the Duke.” He looked her in the eye. “That is not the same as not knowing. Not knowing is an accident. Not looking is a choice, even when the choice is made without realizing it.” He paused. “I have myself to blame.”
Isadora nodded as if she understood.
“She found out in one morning.” There was awe in her voice.
“I know,” he said.
A pause.
“Are you going to–” Isadora began.
“The trust documents need reviewing before Aldiss returns on Thursday.” He picked up the quill again. “Thank you for telling me about Mrs. Peel. I’ll write to her this afternoon. Will you excuse me?”
Isadora looked at him for one more moment.
“All right,” she muttered.
Then she stood and left.
The next day brought rain, which suited him. He was doing some reading when Letitia knocked on his study door at an hour when she was supposed to be at her lessons.
“Miss Aldwell can wait,” she said, before he could speak. “I have something to say.”
“Letitia–”
“It is quick.” She came in and stood across from his desk with a set jaw and bright eyes, her hands clasped before her. “You are working very hard. The accounts are being fixed, the orphanage is sorted, the tenants are getting their repairs—everything is being done correctly.” She paused. “I know.”
“I’m glad the reforms have been–”
“But you come down for breakfast, you eat your toast, you look at your letters, and the room is very quiet and nobody laughs. I have not heard anyone knock over the cream in nine days.”
“The cream–”
“William.” She shook her head so hard that her ringlets bounced aggressively. “I am not talking about the cream.”
He looked at her.
“She was good for this house.” Her voice was level. She had been planning this, he realized. Had rehearsed the composure of it. “She was good for us. For Isadora and me. And…” She blinked hard. “She was good for you. I watched you all autumn, and I know the difference between before and after. Before was not–” She broke off.
“I miss her, that is all,” she said simply. “And I think you do too, only you are being very determined and thorough about the accounts and hoping no one notices.”
“Letitia.”
“I am going back to my Italian lesson,” she added quickly. “I only wanted you to know that fixing the estate is not the same thing as fixing everything.” She turned to the door. “In case you had confused them.”
She left.
He looked at the desk for a long moment.
He had not confused them. That was the uncomfortable truth of it. He knew exactly what he had done and what he had not done, and the distance between the two was the specific shape of the thing he was not allowing himself to think about.
