Page 60 of A Family Bargain with the Duke

Louisa smiled knowingly. “Then I imagine the estate has already claimed him for the day.”

“It would appear so.”

Simmons set the letters beside her teacup. “There is one from Henswick House.”

Louisa’s eyes fell immediately to her father’s familiar seal. “Thank you.”

Once Simmons had withdrawn, she reached for it.

My dear Louisa,

I have made inquiries, as you asked, and I confess what I have learned troubles me more than I expected it to.

I am acquainted, at some remove, with a gentleman who knew the elder Whitmore in his prosperous days, before whatever ruin befell him, and by every account I have gathered, the man was honest to a fault, methodical in his business, and unlikely to have brought his own downfall upon himself through the recklessness that is whispered about.

I have met his son, Thomas, on two occasions this past year and found him a serious, careful young man, not given to exaggeration or grievance for its own sake. I have taken the liberty of inviting him to dine at Henswick House this coming Friday, thinking you might wish to judge the matter for yourself rather than relying on my impressions alone.

Come if you are able, and come quietly, if the matter is as delicate as your letter suggested.

Your loving father,

Robert

After breakfast, Louisa went to her writing desk and read the letter twice, then folded it carefully and sat for a long moment turning over how best to arrange the coming days.

Friday.

She glanced at the small calendar propped against her inkstand. Three days hence, and she had no ready excuse that would not require explaining more than she wished Julian to know just yet, not until she had something more solid than Sir Edmund Vane’s warning.

She found him in his study that evening, correspondence spread before him as usual, and settled into the chair opposite with what she hoped was an entirely unremarkable expression.

“Your Grace, I find myself missing my parents more than I expected this past week. I wonder whether I might spend a night at Henswick House. Nothing more than an ordinary visit, though I confess I have not seen my mother properly since the wedding, and I find I miss her company.”

“Of course.” Julian looked up from his correspondence, entirely unsuspecting, something warm in his expression that pricked at her conscience. “You need not ask my leave for that, Louisa. Take the carriage on Friday and stay as long as you like. I shall manage the household and the children well enough in your absence, provided Mrs. Whitfield does not decide the whole enterprise requires her oversight from dawn until dusk.”

“She very well might.”

“Then I shall be thoroughly managed myself, and no worse for it.” He returned to his correspondence.

Louisa left the study with the uncomfortable weight of an omission sitting heavy in her chest, though she told herself, climbing the stairs, that it was not precisely a lie, only a partial truth, and that she would tell him everything the moment she had something worth telling.

CHAPTER 25

Henswick House received her Friday afternoon with its familiar warmth, her mother’s embrace at the door nearly as fierce as it had been on her wedding day. Her father waited in the hall, his expression suggesting he understood more about the true purpose of her visit than her letter had explicitly revealed.

“He arrives at seven,” he said quietly, once her mother had been persuaded to release her long enough for private conversation in the study. “I have told him only that a family friend wished to hear his account directly and that she could be trusted with whatever he chose to share. I have not mentioned Ashvale or your title, thinking it wiser if he speaks plainly before he learns precisely whose wife is listening.”

“That was well thought out, Father. Thank you.”

“I only hope it proves worth the trouble, for your sake as much as his.”

Thomas Whitmore arrived precisely at seven. He was a tall young man of perhaps thirty, well dressed, with the careful bearing of someone who had learned the hard way to measure every word before offering it. He bowed properly to Louisa upon introduction, his eyes assessing but not unkind.

Louisa found herself studying him across the drawing room before dinner, inclined to believe her father’s assessment more than she had expected to.

“Lord Henswick tells me you wished to hear my account directly, My Lady, though he has not told me why, and I confess I find myself curious.”

“I have my own reasons, Mr. Whitmore, which I hope you will forgive me for keeping to myself a while longer. I promise you they are not unkind.”