Chapter 18
Henry was again pacing in his oak-paneled office, each measured step echoing softly on the polished floor as he tried to determine who the hell was behind the strange notes.
The room was dimly lit by the evening sun streaming through the tall windows, and the quiet was broken only by the rustle of papers and the occasional tick of the mantel clock.
His mind, however, was anything but calm.
He kept replaying the events of the day—the arrival of Leonard, the new note, Lady Fairchild’s plan, and Charlotte’s obvious distress.
Who among his guests or staff could have learned his secret?
He stopped before his desk, glancing at the note lying there. He had no need to unfold it again. Its words were still etched in his mind:
Be at the secluded alcove of the grotto at 4:30 p.m., or suffer the consequences of your secret being made public.
Henry frowned and ran a hand through his dark hair as he made a mental list of the house’s current residents. He did his best to recall every furtive look exchanged between certain servants and each whispered remark among guests.
For a fleeting moment, a disquieting thought crossed his mind: Might his own mother be behind this?
Some kind of convoluted plan to blackmail him into a marriage?
But he quickly dismissed it. The dowager duchess was as prudent as she was fierce.
She would never commit to paper something that might provoke unwanted inquiry—especially not when she faced dangers of her own.
A gentle knock sounded at the door. Henry paused, but he didn’t answer immediately. His mind was too absorbed, and he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. Another, more insistent knock resounded, and finally, with a reluctant sigh, he set aside his thoughts and opened the door.
There, framed in the doorway with concern etched on his face, stood William.
“Henry, you look absolutely dreadful,” William said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “I could see you weren’t yourself at dinner. Is something disturbing you?”
Henry attempted a strained smile as he leaned against the desk. “I’m fine, Will. Merely preoccupied,” he lied, though his hand automatically swept down across his face, a gesture that betrayed his distress to the man who knew him better than any other.
William said nothing but raised a knowing eyebrow.
After a moment, Henry slumped into one of the high-backed chairs. “In truth, I am far from well.”
William’s forehead furrowed as he pulled a chair closer and sat opposite him, leaning forward. “I thought as much. Tell me what troubles you so. I could hear you pacing the room like a caged animal as I was walking up the corridor.”
Henry hesitated, then slowly retrieved a decanter and two glasses from a side table.
“I received a note today,” he said as he began pouring.
“An anonymous letter threatening to make public a secret that, if revealed, would ruin everything.” He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in.
“It demanded that I appear at a secluded alcove in the grotto at 4:30 p.m.”
William’s eyes widened, and he sat back in his chair as the news sank in. “Blackmail, then? They wish to force you to pay up, I suspect, or at least to compel some concession. This is the secret you were referring to that day at the club, I take it?”
Henry passed one glass to William and swirled the brandy in his own as if seeking clarity in its amber depths.
“Exactly so. I’ve been trying to think who might have known.
Could it be one of our guests, a servant, or even someone from another household entirely, paying someone else?
” He let out a heavy sigh and collapsed onto his chair.
“I’ve reviewed every face, each whisper from this morning, yet I can’t pinpoint the culprit.
Or how they could possibly know… the things I need to keep hidden. ”
Although William was too much of a good friend to ask him to reveal his secret, Henry could see the naked curiosity on the other man’s face.
William leaned forward, lowering his voice so that only Henry could hear, just in case any eavesdroppers potentially lurked outside. “You don’t have any suspicions at all? Not a name, nor a hint?”
“Not with any certainty. It makes absolutely no sense. No one in our set, except for my mother and I, should possibly know a thing. I even considered—just for a moment—the possibility that Mother might be involved, but then I dismissed it. She would never put our family in such jeopardy.”
A long silence stretched between them as they both nursed their glasses.
Finally, William broke the quiet. “Henry, you once mentioned that the secret your dukedom holds is something so perilous that you’d never allow it to see the light.
Assuming the messenger refers to this same secret—are the consequences of it being revealed so very catastrophic?
Is it not simply a scandal you could weather with time? ”
Henry’s jaw tightened. “I fear not. If it were simply that, you know I would confide in you, William. No, it would be catastrophic indeed.” His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “I dare not mention it further, but you know how precarious my situation is.”
William’s expression grew grave as he set his glass down.
“Have you any thus far unconscious inkling of who might know? Think hard. Have there been no strange looks or murmured slights? Could it be one of your own staff who has access to your private affairs, or perhaps a guest who has been watching you with unusual interest?”
Henry’s eyes darkened as he considered the possibilities.
“I’ve observed a few suspicious glances among the servants this morning.
There were murmured conversations among the guests as well—discreet, but enough to set me on edge.
Yet I cannot say for certain. Guests will gossip, after all.
They are likely talking about no more than the usual.
I have been scouring my memory for anything strange, but… . Oh.”
William sat up straighter. “There is something, then?”
“I doubt it is in any way related—he doesn’t have the connections to discover such intrigue—but I saw Sir Roger in town this morning. He apologized to Charlotte, who was most unsettled.”
That was an understatement, he thought, recalling her distress at the sight of the man.
William frowned, and his eyes darkened with barely concealed anger. “Sir Roger in town? That is indeed strange. What business does he have here?”
Henry took a swig of his drink. “Yes, we saw him in the high street, unaccountably far from his usual haunts. None of his family hold property here, yet there he was, as if summoned. He mentioned an errand but was incredibly vague about it. It troubles me, especially since he still seems keen on getting close to Charlotte.”
William bristled visibly. “After he tried to dishonor her! He’s lucky I didn’t challenge him to a duel, the odious little fool. You think he came here seeking her?”
Henry grimaced at the thought. “He was most keen to apologize to her—as he should. But his sincerity was a sham. He had the cheek to hint at an invitation to Arundel Park as well.”
“The windbag! How dare he? You don’t think he has anything to do with these messages?”
“I doubt it,” Henry admitted. “He has no access to the grounds, and I doubt he is well-liked enough—or rich enough—to convince a servant to betray me or to draw another of the ton into an intrigue. No, I think Leonard is a separate matter.”
“Still, his presence adds another layer of complication. At least for Charlotte.”
Henry nodded. “I cannot fathom any other genuine reason for his presence. It appears to me that he might be maneuvering for some advantage with her. And if he intends to target Charlotte, then we must take steps to ensure she is never left alone in his path—”
Henry cut himself off as he saw that William was watching him keenly, perhaps intrigued by his display of protectiveness. He wondered what William might think if he knew that Henry harbored increasingly less than brotherly sentiments toward his friend’s dear sister.
It was something he must ensure did not become obvious—not just because of William, but also because the last thing he needed was for the blackmailer to suspect that he cared more for her than his duty. He had no idea how dangerous this person may be.
A heavy silence fell, during which Henry felt increasingly agitated over the events of the day.
William, ever the steady presence, finally spoke. “Henry, we must keep our eyes and ears open. Help me protect Charlotte—she must not be left alone if Leonard remains in the vicinity—and I will watch to see if anyone is behaving suspiciously. We can assist each other.”
“Thank you.” Henry was grateful to have such a stalwart friend.
They drank without speaking for a time, both pondering the problems and mysteries now in front of them. Henry’s head was pounding, and his shoulders were heavy with the weight of the day’s cares.
“Tell me,” he said as a thought struck him. “You have heard nothing untoward about me? No hint of gossip?”
William cocked his head. “I have heard nothing about you, and of course I would have told you if I had. Don’t let this make you overly suspicious; jumping at shadows in every corner.
” His voice lowered further. “I trust you have measures in place to guard this secret and that nothing has happened that could have allowed it to come out?”
Henry shook his head and sighed heavily.
“I believe I have done all that is required. And yet, I cannot shake the feeling that I’ve missed something.
” He looked at William with a pained expression.
“I’m mistrustful, you’re right—but only because I do not know what I will do if they succeed in exposing me. ”
William reached across the desk and clasped Henry’s hand in a gesture of solidarity.
“We will face it together, as we always have. I know you don’t wish to confide in me, for reasons I do not know, but I am here to support you, nonetheless.
Whatever the outcome, I will ensure you aren’t left to bear the burden alone. ”
Henry swallowed, his throat tight. “I am grateful, William. Truly, your friendship means more to me than words can express.” His eyes lingered for a moment on his friend’s face before he forced himself to look away as he felt a pang of guilt.
Guilt for the secrets he had kept for so long, and for his ever-complicated feelings about Charlotte.
A long, heavy silence settled in the office. The only sound was the ticking clock and the occasional sip of brandy.
Eventually, William rose from his chair.
“I must take my leave now. Mother will expect me to escort her to bridge. But do keep me informed. And if you notice anything amiss—any hint that your adversaries are drawing nearer—promise me you will not delay in confiding in me. In this at least, you do not have to be alone.”
Henry nodded gravely. “I promise. Again, thank you.”
Left alone, Henry slumped back into his chair, the silence of the room pressing upon him like a shroud. William’s words could have comforted him, but instead, all he could think of was if his secrets were exposed, he might lose the trust of his best friend.
And then there was Charlotte. He pictured her gentle smile as she walked by his side that morning and the fleeting comfort of her presence—and he felt a deep rush of emotion.
But it was an emotion he couldn’t allow himself to feel. Even if William would approve a match, he could not be with her. Couldn’t bring her into this turmoil.
He fell into a gloomy reverie and was unsure of how much time had passed when his mother’s footsteps sounded from the corridor.
She swept into his room, oblivious to his dark mood. “Henry, you are hiding here again. Has no one caught your eye yet?” Her tone was deceptively light, but her eyes were narrow.
Henry hesitated, his mind racing. He had neither the time nor inclination for another argument with his mother, so he needed to stall.
“There is potential with a few young ladies, I suppose,” he answered cautiously, careful not to reveal the identity of the young lady of whom that was true.
“But I would get to know my prospects better before I commit to a course of action.”
He winced at his own phrasing, implying that he was sizing up his female guests as though they were a business transaction, and indeed, to most of his contemporaries, marriage was just that.
His mother looked pleased. “I’m glad. I knew you would come around to my way of thinking.”
Clearly satisfied, she had turned to leave when Henry had a sudden thought. William had asked him if there were any way things that had long been kept concealed could have gotten out, and he had said no—but he was not the only one concealing them.
“Mother,” he said urgently, “is there any way someone might have learned the truth of my birth?” He was surprised to find he was unable to hide the tremor in his voice.
His mother looked momentarily shocked before her face returned to its usual stern mask. “No, of course not. That is a secret best kept, and I assure you no one will discover it.”
He drew in a deep breath, steeling himself to face her disapproval. “What of the man who sired me?”
She shook her head. “As far as he is concerned, there is nothing to worry about. He is gone. I promise you, this matter will not hold back your impending betrothal.”
She left his room without another word.
Henry stared at the door for a moment, his stomach churning and his blood cold. His mother had spoken with conviction, but he’d seen her brief flicker of doubt. Was his biological father dead? He had no idea what else she could mean by “gone.” Had something nefarious happened?
Unfortunately, since she was so certain of their safety, he strongly doubted she would tell him anything.