“The physician at nine,” she reminded him.
Then she left.
He lay back against the pillow and looked at the ceiling, feeling the warmth in his chest that had been there since he opened his eyes and found her in the chair beside him.
CHAPTER 17
The carriage had barely stopped when Letitia stepped out of it, looked up at the house, and said, “It’s enormous. James, why is it so enormous? What do you need all of this for?”
“Good afternoon to you too, Letitia.”
“Seriously. How many rooms?”
“I have not counted.”
“You have not—” She turned to William, who was descending behind her with a protesting Thomas in his arms. “He has not counted the rooms in his own house.”
“I have better things to do than count rooms.”
“That is exactly what someone says when the answer is embarrassing.” She looked at the house again as if conducting an audit. “Izzy.” She turned, located Isadora at the top of the steps, and her whole expression changed. “Oh, good, you have not wasted away.”
“I was never going to waste away.”
“I told William you would not, but he worried anyway. He did not say he was worried. He just asked Prentiss for a report on the household, which amounts to the same thing.”
“I did not ask Prentiss,” William scoffed, setting Thomas down.
“You did,” Cecily said pleasantly, stepping out of the carriage with Eleanor. “You absolutely asked Prentiss. You asked him in the study on a Thursday, and you thought I did not know.”
“I was making a routine enquiry about the estate.”
“About Isadora specifically.”
“The estate includes?—”
“William.” Cecily shot him a look.
He closed his mouth.
Isadora had come down the steps by now, and Letitia reached her first, which was entirely typical, embracing her with full-bodied enthusiasm that Isadora really missed.
“You look well,” Letitia said into her shoulder. “You look annoyingly well, actually. I was prepared to be concerned, and now that I cannot be, it’s very inconvenient.”
“I’m so sorry to have disrupted your plans.”
“You always do.” Letitia pulled back, held her at arm’s length, and swept sharp eyes over her. “You look…” She tilted her head. “Different.”
“I’m the same.”
“You are not the same. You look…” She searched for the right word. “Occupied. Like you have things on your mind that are not dreadful.”
“What a compliment.”
“For you, it is. Your default things-on-my-mind face is very serious.” She released her and looked past her at James with an assessing gaze. “You, Your Grace, look less like a man drowning in paperwork than you did a month ago.”
“Lady Letitia,” James said. “What a thorough assessment.”
“I’m very observant. Ask anyone.” She looked between him and Isadora. “Ashbourne looks well. Not that I have ever seen it up close.”
