He had spent the afternoon with the estate papers and the evening with his own thoughts, and had arrived at dinner with a plan that he was not certain was correct and was going to execute regardless, because it was the only remaining instrument available to him, and those waiting to sink their teeth into Violet’s inheritance were not going to wait indefinitely.
He set down his wine glass.
“I have been thinking about the household situation,” he began.
William looked up. Cecily stilled almost imperceptibly. At the other end of the table, Isadora continued staring at her plate as if her life depended on it.
“Henderson raised some points this morning that have been on my mind ever since,” James continued, keeping his tone conversational, the one he used when he needed a room to receive information without immediately reacting to it. “About the guardianship and how the household appears to outside parties.” He paused. “I have given it considerable thought today, and I believe I have arrived at a practical solution.”
“We’ve discussed this,” William said. “You need a duchess. It’s been the obvious answer since?—”
“Yes.” James reached for his wine again. “I’ve come to the same conclusion.”
“Good.” William looked vaguely relieved. “So who?—”
“I intend to invite Lady Pembley and her daughter to Ashbourne,” James cut in. “For an extended visit.”
The table went still. Not dramatically—no one gasped or knocked over their glass. But the air shifted in the way it did when something had been said that everyone present needed a moment to process.
William put down his fork.
Cecily looked at James with a carefully neutral expression. She set her glass on the table, buying herself a moment.
“Lady Pembley,” William repeated.
“And Miss Caroline.” James kept his tone casual. “Yes.”
“Caroline Pembley.”
“Yes, William. Caroline Pembley.” James took a measured sip of his wine. “I intend to propose to her.”
Silence.
Then William sat back in his chair and exhaled. “Well,” he said with the gruff relief of someone who had been waiting for asensible decision and had begun to doubt one was coming. “It’s about time.”
“I thought you’d see it that way.”
“She’s a perfectly suitable choice. Good family, steady character. She’s been—” William broke off. “Yes. Good. It’s the right decision.”
“I thought so,” James said.
“The household needs?—”
“Precisely.”
Cecily still had not spoken. She was looking at him thoughtfully. Then her gaze moved briefly to Isadora.
James did not look at her. He took another sip of wine.
William picked up his fork with the satisfaction of a man whose advice had finally, albeit belatedly, been followed. He looked at James with something akin to approval, which was not an expression he deployed carelessly. “Her mother will be insufferable about it, of course. Lady Pembley has been angling for this for a while. She’ll consider it a victory.”
“She’s welcome to do that,” James said dryly, “if it achieves the result.”
“It will.” William was warming up to the subject. “The announcement alone will redirect most of the gossip. A formal engagement to a woman of Miss Caroline’s standing?—”
“You cannot do this.” The voice came from the end of the table.
James looked up at Isadora.
