“Thank me when it is done.”
The next morningbrought a letter from Frederica — three lines only, written in a hand that shook.
“Hampshire — I must ask that you do not come to call today. I am quite well, but I find that I am not able to receive visitors at present. Please do not press the matter. — F.”
David read it twice, the muscle in his jaw jumping. She had been recovering. Yesterday, in the park, he had thought he had seen something almost like strength returning to her — she had spoken clearly, had met his eyes, had even managed something that might have been a smile. But this letter was a retreat, a door slamming shut, and he could feel Rathbone’s shadow behind it the way one feels a draught beneath a closed door without knowing its source.
He set the letter down on his desk and pressed his hand flat upon it, as if he could keep Frederica from slipping further away by the sheer force of his palm against paper.
12
Lord Hampshire and Nora had walked for some time without speaking, their steps falling into the easy rhythm of two people who had once known each other’s pace by instinct and who, despite everything, still did. The path curved away from the main promenade and into a quieter stretch where the chestnuts grew thick, their broad leaves knitting together overhead until the light that filtered through was green and soft, stippled with shadows.
He had sent word to her that morning, and she had come.
He stopped near a bench beneath the largest tree but did not sit. Neither did she. They stood facing each other on the path, the afternoon settling quietly around them — the distant murmur of the park, the creak of a branch, the dry rustle of last year’s husks beneath their feet.
Hampshire’s expression was grave, the tension showing in the set of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed at his sides.
“I must tell you what I have discovered, Nora.” His voice was hoarse with the weight of it. “I went to the solicitors, as you urged me to. I searched for the codicil — the one my uncle swore he had written.”
Her heart stilled. “And?”
“There is no codicil.”
For a few moments, Nora could only stare at him, his words making very little sense to her.
Lord Hampshire let out air between his teeth, dropping his head forward. “I did not ever tell you this, did I? My uncle informed me that there was a codicil attached to his will.”
“You…” Her thoughts crashed together. “You told me that your uncle had threatened to remove all fortune and dowry from Frederica, should you refuse to marry her.”
“Indeed, that is so. He stated that he had written a codicil to add to his will, spoke of it as if it had already been done.”
A crashing wave of dizziness washed over her, and she put out one hand to the trunk of the tree to steady herself. “You have discovered there is nothing there.”
“Indeed.” His voice cracked. “My uncle must have lied to me on that matter, Nora. I do not know why he would do such a thing. But I believed that this codicil was in place, and if I did not do as he asked, then Frederica would lose not only her fortune and her dowry but, because of that, her place in society would be gone from her also.” His hand settled on hers for a moment. “It was never required, Nora. It was never demanded of me. I am not bound to her, as I thought. I am not required by duty and mandate to marry her.”
Nora pressed one trembling hand to her mouth. “I do not understand,” she whispered, her hand falling back to her side, only to be caught by Lord Hampshire’s again.
“Why would he do such a thing?”
“I have not yet found an answer to that.” Lord Hampshire shook his head. “He spoke to me urgently, demanding that I wed Frederica and using the codicil as a means to manipulate me into doing so. I do not understand why he would think to do such a thing.”
The surprise began to fade, relief now swamping her. “You say he spoke urgently, yes?” she asked, hoping that her thoughts would quieten his upset and sorrow even a little. “What if he had reason to demand that of you, but that reason came on that very same day? What if he intended to write the codicil, but his ill health prevented him from fulfilling that intention? It could be that he was afraid for his daughter in some way, desperate for her to marry well, and the only way he could think of that being achieved was to force your hand.”
Lord Hampshire smiled sorrowfully. “It is a consideration and a far gentler, kinder one than I have within my mind,” he admitted, his hand still on hers. “Nora, I — I need you to know that none of this was what I wanted. Not one day of it.” His voice was rough, stripped of its usual care. He did not say the word love. He did not need to. It was in the way he held her hand — not grasping, but open, as if giving her the choice to stay or go — and in the way his thumb traced a single, slow line across her knuckles, as though he were memorizing the feel of her.
“I know.” Her eyes stung. “I thought we were lost to each other for the rest of our days.”
“There is hope, then,” she said after a moment, and her voice was very small. “A real and true hope.”
“More than hope.” He took her hand fully in his — a deliberate act this time, no accident of a bookshop shelf, no courtesy of a ballroom — and they both knew it. His fingers closed around hers and held, his thumb pressing against the back of her hand with a steadiness that was at odds with the pulse hammering at his wrist. “There is a promise, Nora. A promise that I intend to discover the truth behind my uncle’s actions and, from that, to step away from Frederica and towards you.”
Her heart swelled painfully, joy blooming with such haste and such strength that it was barely able to be contained. “Whatwill you do?” Her resolve began to build with every passing second. “Might I be able to join you in your endeavours? I will do whatever I must to aid you in this.”
Lord Hampshire nodded slowly, taking in a slow breath as he looked about the grounds, making certain that no one was drawing near. “Yes. But first, I must speak to Frederica. I must discover what it is that she knows of this.” He grimaced lightly and shrugged. “It may be that she knows nothing at all, that this will be an even greater shock to her than it was to me. She deserves clarity as much as I do. I pray, however, that she will be glad to be given the opportunity for freedom and to make her own choice in this.”
Nora’s eyes stung at the gentleness with which he spoke.
