Chapter Twelve
“Lord Ashton, what a pleasure.”
The solicitor was exactly what Tony thought he would look like.
Short, balding, and bespectacled. Competent looking.
“Thank you, Mister O’Neal. I know this was a rushed appointment.
” Tony sat in a wobbly chair of blue velvet in a room that was so piled high with papers and boxes and files he feared if he moved the chair at all something might topple on him. So he sat rigid and waited.
Looking over the top of his glasses, Mister O’Neal seemed to be sizing Tony up. “Not at all, my lord. How can I help you?”
“I have become the legal guardian of one Miss Lucinda Sterling. Lord Foxton’s daughter.
I know she must wait until her majority or marry to get her dowry, and I have no quarrel with that but…
I was hoping you might assist me in another matter.
Was anything left to her by her father by chance? A letter? A gift of some sort?”
“Now let me see,” he said scanning the document that Tony had given to him stating his legal rights. He frowned. “I will have to find it. It has been over ten years since this file was opened. Can you give me a half hour?”
Tony stood thinking it may take the better part of a month to find it in this mess. “Of course. I will be at the coffee shop across the street.”
“I will send my assistant to fetch you when we have found the documents.”
“That will be fine. I thank you for your time.”
Tony strolled across the street. It was an overcast day, and the shop was warm and inviting.
He ordered his drink and took a seat at the side of the room so his back was to the wall but could see the whole room.
As was his way he listened to the surrounding conversations.
Who had lost the latest wager in White’s betting book, who had made a fool of themselves in the House of Lords and the latest debutantes. This caught his interest.
“Miss Sterling is pretty but who is she? My father would never allow me to court a lady whose background is such a mystery.”
“I agree. Where has she been? Where is her family? My father even questions whether Lord Foxton disappeared in disgrace. You just don’t know what you will be getting.”
Tony frowned into his coffee. This was worse than he feared. It could even affect Marianne’s prospects by proxy and that was not fair on her. He needed to know more about her father’s demise but that would mean a trip to Prussia, and he feared Stafford would not allow him to go.
He saw a tall young man enter and look around and lock eyes with him. “Milord Ashton? Mister O’Neal is ready for you now.”
Tony stood and followed the assistant back to O’Neal’s office, gasps and twitters behind him. Good, he thought but the uneasiness of Lucinda’s situation stayed with him.
There were several items spread on the desk when he took the wobbly seat opposite the solicitor once more.
“I’m not sure exactly what you are looking for,” Mister O’Neal said. “But there are a few things that are to go to Miss Sterling upon her majority or marriage.”
“What are these things?”
“We have miniatures of what I can only assume are Lord and Lady Foxton. Some jewelry, and of course her dowry and her inheritance.” The man looked Tony up and down. “I suppose you want to know how much she shall inherit?”
“That is not my affair, but I do need to know her dowry as she is currently looking for a husband and I shall need to make negotiations on her behalf, as her guardian, you understand.”
“Of course.” The solicitor shuffled some papers. “I believe the sum is thirty thousand pounds upon her marriage.”
Tony sat back. That was a fortune. “Her inheritance, has it any constraints?”
“It was from her fraternal grandmother and specifically for her use only. She can sign it over to her husband if that is her wish.”
“Has anyone else questioned you in recent years about it?”
Shuffling through more papers the man replied, “A Captain Markham did write to ask that her allowance be paid to a Miss Covington of Cardinal Street in Sussex. As you are now her guardian, I will have the amount transferred to you. Will you require me to ask for any overlap in payment be requested back from Miss Covington?”
“No. That will not be necessary. Is it possible for Miss Sterling to have the miniatures now? They are of no monetary value but will mean a great deal to her.”
The solicitor nodded and made a note on a fresh piece of paper, indicating the transfer of the two painted portraits.
“Are you sure there was no letter or even a note for Miss Sterling?”
“All I have is here, my lord.”
Tony stood holding his hand out to the man who placed the two portraits in his palm. “Thank you, Mister O’Neal. I bid you goodbye.”
“Good afternoon, Lord Ashton.”
Miniatures in his possession, Tony left the cramped office and headed back onto the street.
How would she react upon seeing the pictures of her parents?
It would be a comfort to her to know that she would be independently wealthy whether she married or not.
That she had the freedom that most young women did not have.
Would it change her mind about marriage?
She said she wanted to belong and be part of a family, so maybe not.
He hailed a hack and once inside he looked at the pictures in his hands and studied the faces of Lucinda’s parents.
Her mother was blonde and blue eyed, the very definition of an English rose.
He could see that Lucinda shared her mother’s mouth and nose, but her eyes and hair were all her father’s.
There was no question that these people were related to her.
It was there right in front of him. At least it proved that she was the daughter of Foxton after all.
Not that he had ever doubted it but after these afternoons of overheard conversations, it was now clear that not all were convinced of her parentage.
A letter containing the infamous secret would have been convenient, but he was not surprised there was nothing.
He would write up a report to Stafford and send it off before the ball tonight.
He and his mother would need to do some damage control and make sure that Lucinda was prepared for some of the questions she may receive.
He put the portraits in his pocket and imagined the tears of joy she would spend upon seeing his gifts to her.
When he walked into the house, his brother was in the foyer, which was unusual.
“Ah, Tony. I need to talk to you. Follow me.”
“As you wish, Your Grace,” Tony said under his breath.
He ascended the stairs and entered his brother’s study. It was a large room. At least twice the size of his own downstairs. His desk was piled high with papers and letters, not unlike the solicitor’s office he had just left.
Tony sat in the chair opposite and watched his brother settle into his leather chair. “You need a secretary. Mother is worried about you.”
Edward looked up briefly. “What I need is to not be surrounded by idiots.”
“Oh, well I’ll be going then. You know you still have not apologized for what you told the girls the other day.”
The duke looked confused.
“I hate art and can’t read or ride.”
His brother laughed. “I did not say you can’t I said you don’t.”
Anger made his hands into fists. “Seriously? What is the difference?
“Well, one is that you are incapable the other is just a lack of culture.”
“That is what you think of me? Is that why I am here? So, you can belittle me?”
His brother gave him one of his ducal frowns. “No. You brought it up.”
Tony’s hands clenched and unclenched. “You just called me an idiot!”
“I did not! I meant others, not you.”
“Thank you for clarifying, but for God’s sake, Edward, what is going on with you?”
His brother sighed and pulled his hand down his face. “I am just… busy. You have no idea the responsibility I carry.”
Tony felt his anger. He too carried great responsibility, which his brother knew nothing of.
However, his anger dissolved at the sight of his brother’s face.
His usual grim countenance had slipped and was replaced by one of defeat.
Tony softened his tone. “Then seek help. There is no dishonor in it.”
“That is not why I called you here,” his brother said in a gruff tone, the facade firmly back in place.
“Let me help you. Or better yet hire a secretary.”
“No. I cannot. You have Miss Sterling to deal with and your position with Stafford. I have tried a secretary but by the time I explain what I need I may as well have done it myself.”
Tony sighed. “All right, what did you need to tell me?”
Edward picked up a volume of Debrett’s. “Viscount Foxton. The title did end with Lucinda’s father. There was no heir. Not a fertile family, it seems.”
“So, that confirms it. Interestingly, I just came back from her father’s solicitor. She is about to become a very rich woman, married or not. Thirty-thousand-pound dowry and an inheritance that I was told was quite the amount, although he would not tell me its figure.”
“How fortunate. I suppose the pressure is off you now to marry her to the next peer who walks in the door.”
“Is that what you think we are doing? I will have you know that Lucinda is the one insisting on finding a husband. She wants a family. The family she has been denied since her father decided to discard her like unwanted laundry. She has nothing but these.” He pulled out the miniatures and handed them to his brother.
“To show that she ever had a family at all.”
The duke gave them a quizzical look then handed back the portraits. “I am sorry. My comment was uncalled for. I fear I have not kept up with all the comings and goings of the family lately.”
“Perhaps you need to take a break… away from London.”
Edward’s eyes narrowed. “Do not say it.”
Tony put his hands up; he knew he would never convince Edward to go to Ashtonvale. It pained him to see his brother denying himself the pleasures of the family seat and its occupants. “You can’t avoid her forever, Edward.”