Page 58 of Lavender’s Lost Duke

“I found a key in Lord Chilcott’s bedchamber, in the drawer of his writing desk. I gave the key to Samuel, and he opened a drawer in the study to find a pile of aged letters from Fenleigh. But there was also a new note about a meeting coming up soon.

“Samuel locked it up in the drawer again and took the key back upstairs while I helped myself to the kitchen,” the dowager said proudly but with an air of understatement. Lavender could almost believe the woman was consistently involved in solving mysteries.

“Forgive me, let me get this straight. Why would Lord Chilcott be collecting letters from Fenleigh to take to a meeting?” She sat back in confusion. “Did you see what the letters said?”

Samuel tipped his head back and forth noncommittally. “They were typical correspondence: information about the family and business matters. But they were old. The top one was dated many years past. Some of the letters weren’t even addressed to Lord Chilcott.”

Miriam met her husband’s eye. “Is there a chance Fenleigh could be guilty?”

“No,” Samuel said. “I think Lord Chilcott intends to use the letters and allow a forger to duplicate the handwriting in order to create evidence against Fenleigh. My best guess is that the note for the meeting indicates where and when the letters change hands.”

Everything Lavender had learned about the lost duke tonight started swimming together in her mind. “Lord Chilcott told me that he and Fenleigh used to be friends, so perhaps the letters were from back then.”

The dowager duchess patted Lavender’s hand. “The two are cousins. But in their youth they were quite good friends. The letters sound like they came from before Fenleigh’s father died.”

“How did he die?” Lavender asked.

“From injuries related to a carriage accident,” Samuel supplied.

Lavender leaned back into the cushioned seat and felt bone deep tiredness settle over her like a heavy blanket. “That’s terrible.” She thought of her own father’s failing health and the despair their family was facing now and in the near future. Losing a parent could break a person.

“Are you going out to the garden this evening?” Miriam asked.

“No. Tonight I need to get to sleep,” Lavender replied. She didn’t have the energy to be close to Tom tonight. As much as she was trying to transfer her feelings to the elusive Duke of Fenleigh, she feared she wouldn’t have the strength to keep herself from following the pull of her heart to Tom.

Lavender set down her book, The Housekeeper’s Instructor. It wasn’t her normal reading material, but it was fascinating to learn the art of laundry practices and directions for servants’ conduct.

She would continue her study later. Right now, she had a caller. The only caller she’d had for most of the Season had been Lord Chilcott, but the maid said it wasn’t him. Odd. She turned into the drawing room and her gaze caught on Mr. Lanscombe, who stood at her entrance.

She hated the way her heart stung at seeing him. His familiar, smiling blue eyes were as deceptive as they’d ever been. How did it hurt so much when it had been months since he’d tossed her aside like a child’s toy. “What are you doing here?”

Miriam also stood. “Excuse me, I was told he was here to surprise an old friend.”

Lavender looked into Miriam’s eyes and saw the confusion there. “Don’t worry, Miriam. You are not the only person he has lied to.”

“Wait,” Mr. Lanscombe took a few hasty steps toward Lavender, and she countered them, moving backward until she bumped into a solid mass behind her. “I came to apologize.” Mr. Lanscombe put his hands up, a lavender ribbon falling from his fingertips. And not just any ribbon, the one she’d wrapped the family bible with months ago . . . he’d kept it all this time?

A husky voice in Lavender’s ear made her jump. “Do you want me to throw him out?” It was Tom. All at once, the hurt she’d endured at Mr. Lanscombe’s hands faded to a dull throb. Tom was here, and he held far more sway over Lavender’s heart than this puffed-up gentleman ever had.

She didn’t look back at Tom, for fear of what others in the room might witness. It would not do to have everyone know she’d fallen in love with a servant. “I will hear him. For two minutes, and not a moment longer.” She stared at Mr. Lanscombe.

Seconds ticked by, and Mr. Lanscombe stood by, not moving, staring at her like she was his executioner.

“Your time is running out. If you don’t have anything to say, you can leave now,” Lavender said as she clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking.

“I hoped,” Mr. Lanscombe ran a finger between his collar and his throat, “I hoped we might speak in private.”

“No.” Tom’s voice came from behind her.

“No,” Miriam said in the space that followed Tom’s pronouncement.

Mr. Lanscombe’s eyes flitted from the footman to the duchess. “Very well.” He took a deep breath. “I came to tell you that I am sorry. Having been in London for these past months has opened my eyes to how much I loved you. No other lady can hold a candle to you. I’m sorry for the way I left, and I’d like a chance to try again.”

Lavender recalled his last words to her. We are neighbors; I was just having a bit of fun. The implication of him using her in that way still made her upset. “So, you are done having your fun now? You’re prepared to take on responsibility and make plans?”

“The only plans I’ve ever made were with you.” He extended the taunting lavender ribbon toward her like a peace offering.

She could accept him. It would be so easy. She could retreat back to Herefordshire and be near her father at the end of his life. She could bring him and her mother peace knowing that not only was she married, but close to home. But she still felt Tom’s presence at her back. The man hadn’t moved an inch. She might not be able to marry for love, but she could at least be able to do better than marrying someone who had cast her off like she were dirty laundry.