“Of course he is.”
He had not invited Edward. He had not, at any point in recent memory, expressed a desire for Edward's company, implied it, or done anything that could reasonably have been interpreted as an encouragement for that man to materialize in his entrance hall on a Tuesday. And yet here they were.
“Tell him I'm occupied,” Thomas instructed dismissively.
“I did, Your Grace,” Mr Johnson grimaced, looking as though the last thing he had wanted to do was admit as much.
“And?”
The butler's expression took on a shade that might very nearly have been sympathy. “He expressed that he was happy to wait. And that he knew his way around and was happy to pass the time in the drawing room.”
Thomas raised his eyes the ceiling, unsurprised to find that it nothing useful. Previously, he might have left Edward to do as he wished, but he did not want the man to bother Jane – which he suspected was Edward’s true motives.
“Send him in,” he groaned eventually.
Edward entered with a bright grin as though he had won something, which Thomas supposed he had, technically. He was dressed for riding, still carrying his gloves, and he looked around the study with bright, curious eyes, undoubtedly looking for changes likely caused by the duchess.
“Ravencroft. It is magnificent to see you. You look terrible,” Edward stated warmly.
“I was working,” Thomas replied, feeling his irritation grow.
This would not do. Edward was a polarizing person on a good day, and a pain in the rear on a bad one, so if he did not gain some tolerance for his friend soon, he would not be able to keep himself from grumbling over the smallest thing.
“Before noon? On a Tuesday?” Edward settled himself into the chair across from the desk comfortably, and set his gloves on the armrest. “That explains a great deal. You need to get out more. I've been telling you this for years.”
“You have been telling me a great many things for years. I have survived as long as I have by ignoring most of them.”
“And look at you – positively thriving. You may express your gratitude to me in the form of a fruit basket.” Edward glanced at the stacked correspondence on the desk with vague interest. “Now. I want to see her.”
Thomas shot a blank look at him, feigning ignorance, knowing it would not work, because Edward could not be fooled so easily.
“Your wife,” Edward clarified, as though this required clarification. “I gave you an entirely reasonable amount of time to settle in – don't look at me like that, several weeksisreasonable, given that some men take months before they're willing to introduce their –”
“This is not a good day. Perhaps some other time – with sufficient notice and preparation. I do not wish to ambush her with this. And stop making it sound as though you are my guardian,” Thomas glared at his friend.
Edward raised his hands in surrender. “You are right. It was my fault for not sending word first. But I only want to extend my well-wishes to the one who has managed to capture the attention and affection of my oldest friend.”
“It is wholly unnecessary.”
“My dear Ravencroft. I rode here. In the cold,” Edward spread his hands. “The minimum courtesy is a drink.”
Thomas was still thinking of how best to curate his response to carry the heaviest concentration of severity when he heard a gentle knock at the door.
“Come in,” he called out without thinking.
Jane appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath, her hair loosely pinned and a small smear of what appeared to be ink on her left wrist – indicating that she had probably been writing letters. She looked between them, her gaze going immediately to Edward with the cautious assessment she applied to new situations, and then to Thomas.
“I was told we had a visitor,” she said, slightly out of breath. “I thought it might be –”
She stopped herself, but Thomas could guess by her tense shoulders that she likely expected her father to be the one who called on them suddenly.
“Forgive me. I didn't mean to interrupt,” she apologized earnestly, lowering her head.
“Interrupt?” Edward was on his feet with the speed that told Thomas he had been waiting for precisely this moment. “Your Grace, please. The interruption is the entire point. I am Edward Barton, Duke of Montford, your husband's dearest and most patient friend – a quality bestowed upon me by God himself. Pardon me for my lack of formal word before I visited, but I have been attempting to make your acquaintance since the moment I heard there was a new Duchess of Ravencroft, which Thomas – in a move I can only describe as selfish – has been preventing.” He bowed to her. “I am delighted to meet you.”
Jane blinked, clearly overwhelmed. She glanced at Thomas first and when he simply rubbed at his temple, clearly frustrated, she smiled – genuinely, and her eyes lit up.
“He never mentioned he was preventing it.”
