Chapter 14 #2
“If you could wait a few minutes, I would be grateful. I think you can shed light on this peculiar missive, you see. You are mentioned several times.” He set the letter down and gazed up.
Ives had no idea what Sidmouth had written, so he had no intention of leading this conversation.
“You mentioned when you came that you were worried Miss Belvoir had attracted the attention of the Home Office. Did you suspect that because you thought she was being watched while in my home?”
“Yes.”
“And did you send word up the ranks of the Home Office that if they did not call off their watch, you would see to it that I—how did Sidmouth phrase it?—raised so much hell in the House of Lords that the peers would insist that heads roll?”
“I was sure you would not tolerate such an insult to yourself and to the entire peerage.”
“Well, that explains this.” Lance tapped the letter. “It contains a cryptic apology from Sidmouth, something about a hired man not understanding his mission, and ends with a jovial assumption that I would not put too much stock in any tales you might tell.”
“I am glad he took it seriously.”
“I am sorry I did not, when you first mentioned the Home Office. What does Sidmouth want with Miss Belvoir? Is she some radical? A revolutionary? A criminal?”
“She is none of those things.” He would swear to it. He just had no proof to support his conviction.
“You are sure, are you?”
“Damned sure.”
“Then why did Sidmouth set a man on her?”
“It has to do with her father, and a misunderstanding of her loyalty to him.”
“So her father is the criminal, radical, or revolutionary.”
“Yes.”
“Which is it?”
“The first, as best I can tell. Possibly the second, but it is unrelated if true. Unlikely for the third, but . . .”
“But you really can’t be sure.”
“Correct.” He shared the story of Hadrian Belvoir and the counterfeiting, and of Padua’s visits to the prison and the hope of the Home Office to have a minnow lead them to a whale.
“It is a matter for the magistrates, if they only think it was counterfeiting. The interest of the Home Office implies someone thinks the bad money funded something disloyal,” he concluded.
“So you brought her here where no agent dare trespass.”
“And where I could keep an eye on her, while I visited. If you think her presence compromises you, we will leave today.”
Lance rose and paced to the window. He looked out while he thought.
“Zealots cannot be trusted. Everyone knows Sidmouth’s agents cross too many lines, and create as many problems as they solve.
The lords do not stand up to him and end it because they are afraid these radicals will start a revolution and our heads will be on the block. ”
“We can still leave, to spare you trouble. As you said, there are enough clouds here already.”
“Not political ones.” He turned, a glint of amusement in his eyes.
“I think I will enjoy this. For once I will relish having the title. Being the title. Lord Lancelot Hemingford might have garnered suspicion, but Aylesbury? Never. No one would dare.” He picked up the letter.
“I must respond. Graciously, of course. I will express dismay at the insult to my position as reported by my brother. I will be forgiving, but in a most condescending way. I will imply that since Sidmouth was only recently made a viscount, and a newly minted title at that, he can be excused his error this once.”
Glad that was settled, Ives rose again to take his leave.
“As for Miss Belvoir,” Lance continued, “I trust you will watch your step. As you admit, you can’t really be sure about her.”
“My better judgment usually stands me in good stead where people are concerned.”
“As it does in all things, to the family’s everlasting benefit. If I believed your better judgment were at work with her, Ives, I would have never said a word.”
* * *
Ives tucked a blanket around Padua’s legs and lap.
That charmed her, as did the cushion he had insisted be put on the board where she sat.
The day was not really cold and her pelisse would be sufficient, but she did not object to his efforts to make her comfortable in the simple open carriage they would use for this outing.
He climbed up and took the reins. Their horse paced out of the yard and aimed toward the lane.
The day shone fair, but a crisp breeze kicked dried leaves all around the gig. The horse made a fast trot down the lane. Halfway to the road, Ives pulled on the reins and stopped. He turned and pulled Padua into a long kiss.
“That is to make up for what I could not do this morning,” he said, snapping the reins again. “I apologize for the embarrassment, and for a bad end to the night.”
“It was not as bad as it looked. I discovered that embarrassment has a limit. Once you reach it, things do not get worse.” She laughed. “Eva had said she would come in the morning to see about altering some garments, but I never thought she would arrive at daybreak.”
“I daresay she will never enter a visitor’s chamber again without sending a note first, after this.”
“It could have been worse. Had I not pulled the sheet over you, she would have seen much more. I doubt even Eva could have remained so blasé then.”
Padua could not resist making the face of astonishment she thought Eva would have shown. They shared a good laugh over that.
Padua wiped tears from her eyes. “She did not say anything the whole time we fitted the garments. I think she will be as discreet as she promised.”
“Except with Gareth. She told him.”
“Do you think so?”
“I know it. I saw him right before I joined you and the smile he gave me was unmistakable.”
“A congratulatory smile, no doubt. That is how men would think of it for you.”
She received an odd look for that. Once again he stopped the gig. “Padua, I will not pretend that I acted honorably last night. Such considerations did not exist. The only thought in my head was that I wanted you. I did not give you much choice, either, and that was not fair.”
“I was not importuned. Overwhelmed, perhaps, but not treated dishonorably. I am not a schoolgirl.”
“You are not very worldly either.”
“Not an opera singer, as Eva said?”
“Definitely not.”
She did not care for the awkwardness descending between them. She feared, she realized, that Ives was going to decide to be honorable in the future. “I do not regret it, if you are wondering about that. I am not angry or think you took advantage. Perhaps I should be, but I am not.”
He aimed the carriage down a hill toward a small chapel set among a stand of oaks. As they moved past it, she saw the graveyard to its side. A sepulcher dominated it, standing twice as high as any of the other memorials and dwarfing the small tombstones.
“Is that your father’s tomb?”
He shook his head. “My brother’s. My father’s is very modest.”
She turned and looked back at the graveyard. “How odd.”
“Not at all. A man who achieved something does not need any mark on his grave to be remembered. A man who accomplished little that is good can leave nothing else to remind the world he once lived.”
“You were not fond of this brother, I think.”
“I hated him.”
There could be no response to such a flat, simple statement.
He took the reins in one hand, and took her own hand in his free one.
“I have shocked you with that bald and heartless admission. It is not something I share often. Not something I give voice to. I hope you do not think badly of me, but it is the truth. I hated him. We all did. The others had more cause than I, but he cast such a shadow over us that when he died we—well, no one mourned him much.”
“If you all felt that way, there was probably good reason.”
He raised her hand and kissed it, as if grateful she did not scold him.
“I became a lawyer specifically to annoy him. It was a small revenge. He lectured on and on about how it was beneath us for me to do this, and I would listen and nod, listen and nod. When he learned I had discarded his advice and preference, he became a madman. I enjoyed the fit it gave him.”
“Was it not reckless to goad? He became the next duke. He had the chance to exact some revenge, too, I would think.”
“Only financial, but Lance and I were left portions from our mother, and my father provided for Gareth. Percy tried to use allowances to get us to heel, but we chose not to become his dependents. He would have made that hell.”
“I have no siblings, good or bad, so I find it sad that you had a brother who did not know how fortunate he was. I have often regretted that I have no sister or brother. While I do not envy you your brother Percy, I get wistful when I see the rest of you together.”
Again that kiss on her hand. An apology this time? Or an expression of pity? His attention remained on the horse and the road, but she wondered if his thoughts had turned to how they met, and what waited in London. She had little family, and soon might have none at all.
The lane angled up a steep hill. At the top a lovely vista waited. They looked down on an autumn countryside dotted with farmhouses. A village’s homes clustered in the distance.
“This is beautiful, Ives. For someone who has only known cities, it looks like heaven. So open and so peaceful, and so very quiet.”
He jumped out of the gig and tied the horse to a stump. He came around and unbundled her from the blanket, then helped her down. “We can sit here for a while, if you like.”
“I would enjoy that.”
He spread the blanket on the ground. She sat and he joined her. For a few minutes she just feasted her eyes on the prospect beyond and below.
“How did the dressmaking session go this morning?” he asked.
“Very well. Eva is very talented at remaking dresses.” She turned her attention to him. “Did you ask her to do that?”
“That is not how I provide my lovers with new wardrobes.”
“They expect better, I suppose.”