Page 8

Adrian listened intently. His usually smooth forehead was creased as he now understood the gravity of the situation.

“I did not rush to report the discrepancy, Adrian,” Peregrine insisted. “Lady Rosamund and her family seem to believe that I did. No. I immediately headed for Ashbourne Hall with the ledgers. I discreetly visited the Earl. We were in his private study when I delivered the evidence. Because there was a part of me that could never believe he was capable of stealing from his own heir, I provided him with several excuses. Perhaps it was a misunderstanding. An error in the transaction. If that were the case, I could have helped. I would have been willing to use money from my own treasury.”

“I am going to guess that the Earl did not take any of the excuses for himself?” Adrian asked, looking just as devastated as Peregrine was when he found out about it.

The late Earl of Ashbourne was not the sort of man anyone would associate with something so despicable. It had been a shock to Peregrine who had been working closely with the family at the time.

“I do not know what happened to him exactly. However, he could not explain. He began making his own excuses, but they were blatant lies. His ledgers did not show miscalculations. The person who made changes was very calculating. At first, I could not believe that the Earl could be so free with his own child’s money, but apparently, he was.”

“Then, you exposed him.” Adrian’s tone was level, as if he was trying his best not to reveal what he felt about it.

“I had to,” Peregrine said, his eyes burning with fire. “Henry was nine years old. His father, who was supposed to protect him, was doing the opposite. I felt responsible for his estate. I do not know why the Earl was doing that, but I needed him to stop it.”

“You did more than expose the Earl, Peregrine,” Adrian reminded his friend gently. “You destroyed him. With your powerful word against his, you stripped him of everything that he owned. Not just his money, but his credit, too. He did not have a choice but to sell Ashbourne Hall.”

“I had to do that to protect what was left of the estate,” Peregrine countered, his face burning with anger. The memory was sharp and vivid. He could still remember how he felt during those days. Even though he did expose the Earl, he had spent countless nights struggling against himself. “As soon as people heard about what the Earl was doing, the vultures descended upon Ashbourne Hall. They intended to take what they could from the house. Imagine the house being torn apart? Every piece of furniture taken by a different person? It would have been the end of it all. A destruction. Some considered the state and what rights they would hold. Timber rights. That was part of Lady Rosamund’s offer the other day.”

Peregrine took a long, deep breath. It could not take away the pain in his chest as he stared into the distance. He could vaguely see gentlemen laughing at humorous stories, but he could not hear them. The roar in his head was deafening.

“It was why the auction was the best idea. I bought Ashbourne Hall to preserve it. Keep it whole,” he explained. “I bought the whole house and every acre in the estate. I made certain the amount would fairly include every piece of furniture. I wanted Henry to have his property when he reached his majority at the age of twenty-one. In my head, I could see myself handing over the whole estate to him.”

Adrian watched his friend quietly during the melancholy reminiscence. Meaningless chatter continued to hum in the background.

“That was a very noble plan, Peregrine,” Adrian murmured. “It truly was. I do hope that Lady Rosamund will find out one day. However, there is a glaring and utterly tragic flaw in it all.”

“Which is?” Peregrine asked, knowing the answer, but stubbornly pushing it away like a pesky insect.

“Henry is dead.”

“Of course, I know he is dead.”

“Then, why are you still holding onto your promise to him?” Adrian asked. “You have bought the estate and kept it intact for Henry. That is well and good. But the boy is gone. Lady Rosamund is his sister and only surviving heir to the ancestral home. She is not asking for the estate back for free, either. He is willing to pay you a hundred pounds. That money is not as easy for her to acquire. What purpose does it serve for you to continue to refuse her?”

“Selling Ashbourne Hall even to Lady Rosamund feels like profiting from a young boy’s death. It feels like I have taken that tragedy and turned it into a business transaction. That is already how she sees it. When I purchased the house at auction, I used my own money. I wanted to save it for him. It felt like the right thing to do.”

“Do you truly think keeping her ignorant of what really happened is protecting her?” Adrian demanded. “It is not. She needs to know what her father did.”

“Adrian, Lady Rosamund idolized her father! She believed him to be the most honorable man in England. If I tell her the truth, I can. I still have some of the evidence. However, I will destroy whatever is left of her memory of the father she loved early. She no longer has anything. Her brother is gone. Imagine if I take away her father’s honor to clear my name!”

Adrian gaped at him. His friend was undoubtedly stunned by his choice to keep a secret that could take away some of the stain clinging to his name, at least in the eyes of one Rosamund Harcourt. It almost felt like martyrdom, but Peregrine did not even feel right using that word.

“You are a fool, Blackwood,” Adrian said, without heat. Peregrine recognized the tone of disappointment, but there was no anger there. Perhaps some resignation. “You can be quite an infuriating and arrogant fool.”

Peregrine did not immediately reply. Instead, he inspected the rest of his scotch and finished it with one swallow.

“Or perhaps,” Adrian added, his eyes studying Peregrine’s, “you do not want to admit that you have acted too rashly all those years ago. Perhaps you are wondering if you would have been better off giving the Earl another week to handle his affairs, his way.”

Peregrine did not respond to that. He kept his face unreadable. Perhaps he himself did not know what to feel about that. He took a deep breath and rested his empty glass on the table. Then, he rose and straightened his coat.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Adrian. I am returning to Ashbourne Hall.”

Ashbourne Hall. He would usually go to Westbourne Abbey to sleep, but he had to look at something there, and it could not wait.

It was already dark when Peregrine’s carriage reached Ashbourne Hall. The large house felt like a sleeping beast, one that he had chosen not to completely awaken. Peregrine let himself in, not wanting to disturb Hayes. He had learned the house by heart and could navigate it even in darkness.

The house was not quite a house, he reminded himself.

Still, he kept the Ashbourne staff and did not demand much from them. He could only imagine that they would want someone like Lady Rosamund to come and tell them to make the place alive once more.