James handed over his coat without looking up. “At this hour?”
“She arrived approximately thirty minutes ago, Your Grace.”
He looked up. Fenwick received the look with perfect composure.
“She,” James repeated.
“Miss Caroline Pembley, Your Grace. She is waiting in the drawing room.” Disapproval dripped from Fenwick’s voice. “She came alone.”
James frowned. “Alone?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Without Lady Pembley.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Without any chaperone.”
“Correct.” Fenwick blinked. “Your Grace.”
James looked up at the ceiling briefly, calculating the dimensions of a situation he had not anticipated and did not particularly want.
“Tea,” he instructed. “In the drawing room.”
“Your Grace.”
He went to the drawing room.
Miss Caroline was standing at the fireplace when he came in, which he suspected was intentional, for the firelight was doing considerable work on her behalf. She was dressed with a care that was not accidental.
She was, as she had always been, very beautiful.
She turned when he entered with rehearsed naturalness. He almost scoffed.
“Jam—forgive me.” A small smile. “Your Grace. I hope you don’t mind the intrusion.”
“Miss Caroline.” He stopped in the center of the room. “This is unexpected.”
“I know.” She moved slightly away from the fireplace, a graceful repositioning. “I know it is irregular. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t think—” She stopped like she was recalibrating. “I heard you were in London. I thought it was an opportunity to speak privately.”
“Your mother is not with you.” He raised an eyebrow.
“No.” She met his eyes directly. “I preferred to come alone. What I want to say is not—it is not something I wished to say in front of my mother.”
Fenwick appeared with the tea tray, set it down with the absolute professional silence of pretending he could not feel the tension in the room, and withdrew.
“I don’t think I should offer you a seat, Miss Caroline,” James said.
She sat anyway. He did not, not immediately. He moved to the side table, poured himself the brandy he had been wanting sincefour o’clock, and then sat in the chair opposite her with the glass and the tea table between them.
She looked at him.
He waited.
“You know that I have always liked you,” she began.
He said nothing.
