Page 62 of Lavender’s Lost Duke

All his life, Thomas had spent his time chasing more wealth, or more respect, thinking if he proved himself competent, he’d find happiness. But over time he realized that happiness wasn’t to be found in his money or status. So, he’d frequented the card tables and the pubs to pass the time . . . as if his life was merely a collection of hours he needed to muddle through until the end.

He really ought to thank Lord Chilcott for inventing this accusation of treason. Without that push, Thomas would never have met Lady Lavender, or Jack, or Mrs. Bitters. Well, he might have met Lady Lavender, but he doubted he’d have felt like he did now. His mind would have been too fuzzy to see what was clearly before him.

Samuel walked into his study, and Thomas jumped to his feet. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”

Samuel threw a newspaper onto his desk. “Is it?” He sat down. “Close the door, Tom.”

Thomas’s hopes for redemption faltered for a moment. He closed the door and turned to his friend. “Bad news?”

“The worst sort,” Samuel sighed. “It seems as if you’ve been spotted colluding with a Frenchman.”

“Information from Lord Chilcott?” Thomas guessed.

Samuel met Thomas’s eyes. “Information from Mrs. Carlton.”

Mrs. Carlton was not one of Thomas’s admirers. More than once she’d been the one to raise awareness to his less than admirable qualities. “And now it’s in the papers?”

“Yes, and that's all anyone is talking about. I don’t know what to do. We were so close. You should have seen Lady Lavender at Lord Chilcott’s dinner party last night. She made it possible for me and my mother to sneak all over the baron’s house, unlock a secret door, and collect some critical information . . . we hope.”

Thomas’s jaw went slack. “How did she do all that?”

“She forced him to actually speak the truth for once. I hate to break it to you, but your cousin really hates you.”

“I know,” Thomas answered drily.

“But he doesn’t know why your relationship changed. Neither do I for that matter. Can you explain yourself?”

Thomas had never considered that Lord Chilcott didn’t know about the confrontation Thomas had had with his father. It was so long ago and yet, Thomas still missed his father. “My uncle and my steward were trying to use my position in society for their own means. I heard them talking about me being easy to manipulate one day when I came home for a break from school. I made them leave and told them never to return.”

“And the former Lord Chilcott never told his son why they became estranged from their connection with you,” Samuel said.

Thomas took a deep breath. “I suppose so, but when I’d heard them talking, it sounded like Ronald wasn’t the friend he painted himself to be either.”

Samuel leaned back in his chair. “That is no surprise.”

“It was to me at the time, I assure you.” Thomas had tried to forget the feeling of betrayal by the family and servants he ought to have been able to trust the most. “That was when I learned that people only acted like they liked me in order to benefit from my status or wealth. True friends are rare indeed.” He nodded toward Samuel. “I don’t know if I’ve expressed my gratitude for your being among that small number.”

Samuel waved his thanks aside. “We are equals. It’s a rare thing for both of us.” He cleared his throat. “Now, we have a lead on the Chilcott, and I want to follow it.”

“What lead?”

“A time and a place.”

“For what, precisely?”

“We don’t know for certain. But it was on top of a pile of letters written in your hand.”

Thomas jerked his head back. “I haven’t written to Lord Chilcott in . . . maybe ever.”

“Not to his son, but you did write to your uncle. The letters are ten years old at least,” Samuel said. “I saw the dates with my own eyes.”

“Why do you think my cousin kept those?”

Samuel worked his jaw for a moment. “I think he’s going to meet with someone who can forge incriminating evidence.”

“A time and a place.” Thomas looked up at the ceiling. “What time and what place? I need to be there.”

“I don’t think that’s precisely a good idea. Not with the last bit of gossip about you and the Frenchman, anyway. It has to be someone else.”