Chapter 16 #2
She just looked at him, her eyes filming all the more.
“I could not blame you for it,” he said. “You are nothing if not brilliant. And loyal.”
She shook her head. “Please do not think that. Please do not. I did not open my door to you because of any of this. If I had known doing so would mean you walked away completely, however—your best is honest and just, and others’ might not be.
” She turned away and pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes.
He went up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. Her tears convulsed her, then started to ebb. When she had collected herself, she leaned against him and held his arms against her body.
“Did you read your letter?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“But you will refuse. Is that normally done?”
“No.”
“You cannot help him at all, then, can you? After refusing to prosecute, to defend would be a slap in the face to whoever wrote that letter.”
The high chancellor was the least of it. She did not need to know that, however.
He helped her onto her horse, then mounted his own. They headed back to the house. She remained thoughtful.
“Ives, you spoke of pretending to represent the Crown. Is that who the letter was from? The king’s men, or the regent?”
There were moments when Padua’s quick mind proved inconvenient. “The prince regent first mentioned it to me, over a month ago.”
She stopped her horse, closed her eyes as if absorbing a blow, then opened them and moved on. “You would have been wiser to pursue one of those mistresses, Ives. A new wardrobe and a few jewels would be nothing compared to what I am going to cost you, I fear.”
* * *
As with their journey to Merrywood, Ives did not travel inside the carriage with Padua during their return to London.
They had shared their parting kiss in the first light of dawn before leaving the magic behind.
She did not mind. It would be too sad to sit with him for days, trying to pretend her heart was not breaking.
He did climb in after her when they rolled away from the last coaching inn. “I have told the coachman to bring you to Langley House,” he said. “I will leave you after we pass the last tollgate.”
“I do not need to go to Langley House again. I should not.”
“You will, for tonight at least. Tomorrow I will join you and help you find a place to live. You have the money I found in the books, so letting an apartment should not be a problem.”
She almost reminded him that she had promised not to spend that money. She worried that he saw giving her that money as one more compromise in a whole line of them.
After the last tollgate, the carriage stopped. He grabbed the door latch, ready to hop out. He stopped and looked at her, then took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply.
Then he was gone.
She allowed the carriage to bring her to Langley House. She even stayed there that night. The next morning, however, she did not wait for Ives to call on her. She packed her valise, asked for a hired carriage, and set off.
She had no appointment, but Mr. Notley received her. She sat across from him in his office, as she had before, with his clerk to the side jotting notes.
Mr. Notley smiled, pleased with himself. “I have been very clever regarding this inheritance, if I do say so myself. It took some doing.”
“I am grateful.”
Notley leaned back in his chair, his fingers forming one of the steeples he created when he thought.
“I had to convince the gaoler to trick your father into giving his place of birth. You do not want to know how he did that. It will only distress you. Once I knew the parish in Essex from which he hailed, I sent a clerk down to investigate his family back two generations. We mapped the family tree, then began looking for wills under those names. And, dear lady, we found it.”
He leaned forward. “Did you know that your father’s name is actually John Hadrian Belvoir? Had we not learned that at the parish, all would have been for naught, since in this will he is called John H. Belvoir. No wonder it took the lawyers forever to track him down.”
“Perhaps Papa thought Hadrian sounded more scholarly than plain old John. He can be vain that way.”
“John Belvoir inherited a property as you hoped. Right here in London. A house.”
“If he owns a house here, why did he let rooms?”
“I assume he lets out the house. He would not need all that space himself.”
I could have lived there, too, however. She pushed the spike of resentment aside. “Have you seen this house?”
“I have not. I was not authorized to visit, and assess it. I would have no standing to enter.”
“I have seen it,” his clerk said.
Notley turned to him. “Have you now?”
“I walked past it. I was curious. It is a handsome house, Miss Belvoir. Larger than most, on a good street.”
The clerk’s report heartened her. “May I have the address, please.”
The clerk wrote it down and brought over the paper. She stuffed it in her reticule.
“Now,” Mr. Notley said, “I am afraid I have other news that is not so happy. As I wrote, the trial date has indeed been set. I was able to see the full charges, and a new one has been added.”
She dreaded hearing more, but of course she must. “What new one is that?”
Notley’s lips folded in on themselves. “Sedition. That means—”
“I know what it means.”
“Do you? It is not treason, as such, for example. With the counterfeiting, it could have been that bad. So this is bad news that could have been worse.”
“I will remember to think of it in that light. Has he spoken to you now, with such a charge hanging over him?”
Notley shook his head. “I went and stood outside that cell for an hour, and he ignored me the entire time.”
“Thank you for trying, and for such diligence regarding the inheritance. I hope that I can call on you if he can be convinced to cooperate.”
“Absolutely, Miss Belvoir.” They both stood. Notley left the office. The clerk opened his account book and told her what was owed.
* * *
“What do you mean, she is gone?” Ives made the demand of the footman who opened the door, after being told Miss Belvoir had departed the premises.
“She left early this morning, sir. Valise in hand.”
Ives strode back out of the house and swung onto his horse. Had he not told Padua that he would come by and help her make arrangements? She had no experience with estate agents and contracts. She was only doing this because she wanted to prove she did not need him to take care of her.
She did not want to marry? Fine. She did not want to be his mistress?
Accepted. She assumed returning to London made an affair too complicated, too dangerous?
Dangerous for him, not her, that is? He would disabuse her of that eventually, but for now, she was homeless and adrift and the least he could do was help her get settled.
The least she could do was allow him that.
He headed into the City, to see if she had called on that lawyer. Notley had written he had news, and she would want to hear it.
“Miss Belvoir was here, sir,” the clerk said. “She left a good hour ago.”
“Where did she go? Do you know?”
The clerk fingered his pen nervously. “Perhaps if you waited until Mr. Notley returned—”
“I do not have the time for that. If you know where she went, tell me and spare us both a long argument that, I assure you, I intend to win.”
The clerk heard the threat, or saw it. He grabbed a scrap of paper and jotted. “She most likely went to this house, sir. She was very excited to learn her father owned it. An inheritance, it was.”
Ives read the address. Belvoir owned this house? He almost did grab the clerk by the neck then. “Mr. Notley allowed her to go here on her own? Is he familiar with this property?”
The clerk glanced left and right, as if seeking an escape route. “He is not. I saw it, however.”
“You did not go in, did you?”
“I only walked by, so I could be useful. I reported it was a fine, big house.”
“So you sent her there?”
The clerk squirmed. “Not sent as such, sir. That was her own decision. If she went at all. She did not say she was going today, or any day, now that I think about it.” He smiled weakly.
Oh, she had gone there. Ives did not doubt it. On learning her father was a man of property, she would have to go see the house. Anyone would.
He left the clerk and returned to the street. He aimed his horse back west.