Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
You’re making a fine duchess after all.
As her carriage centered through the business epicenter of London, monikered the “Square Mile”, Ariadne’s destination was not Royal Exchange, or Cheapside; she was heading to Lombard Street, where her late father's steward had his business offices.
Cedric was out at a meeting of prospects, looking for a new steward, and while he was at his work, she had decided to use her social and political cache to take control of her mother’s situation on her own.
When the carriage stopped, and the footman helped her out, she headed to a two-story building of her late father’s steward, the brass plaque on the door simply read, “William Jacob Baur, Esq.”
Stepping inside, Ariadne paused on the threshold and noted the understated affluence of the interior.
Fine furnishings clustered around a marble hearth, and she saw a carpeted corridor leading to a suite of private offices.
A small waiting area boasted comfortable seating and newspapers to peruse, and while she took a seat, her footman remained
“Miss Ariadne, what a pleasant surprise!” Mr. James, a young bespectacled clerk who had started his job at nineteen, five years before her father had died, came to greet her with a pile of files in hand. “My apologies, I should address you properly as Your Grace now.”
“Good morning, Mr. James, and thank you,” she said. “I need to see Mr. Baur.”
“Of course,” James nodded and fixed his glasses. “One moment.”
The clerk hurried back and announced that Mr. Baur was ready to see them and led them to a spacious suite, outfitted in mahogany furniture and shades of burgundy.
Baur rose from his desk, and for a moment, Ariadne could not believe what she saw. Who was this short, balding man with a heft to his belly and double chin? When had her father’s steward devolved from the well-maintained man with dark, keen eyes?
“Never in my life did I expect little Lady Ariadne to be the wife of a duke,” Baur said, his accent polished over time with dealing with peers. “Welcome to my humble establishment, Your Grace,” He waved them into the seats facing him. “May I offer you tea?”
“Thank you,” she said.
“James, fix a pot of tea as quickly as you can,” Baur told his assistant and then handed him another folio, “And make copies of this.”
“I do not want to take too much of your time, but I need to know the affairs of my late father. I need to know how much debt my uncle had sunk the estate in,” she said as James ducked out the door.
Baur’s face shuttered. “I am sorry, Your Grace, but I cannot give you those records.”
“Why not?” She asked.
“Since your uncle had taken control of the viscounty, he had mandated that no legal documents shall be shared without his permission,” Baur said.
“Is that your polite way of telling me that he has bankrupted the viscounty?” She asked.
Beads of sweat began to break out on the steward’s forehead. “I cannot say, Your Grace.”
Her teeth ground together. “Is it true that he is trying to sell the manor house Mother is living in?”
“I cannot say, Your Grace.” Baur’s eyes were starting to bulge.
“What can you tell me?” she pressed.
Baur was mopping his brow now. “Your Grace, I cannot tell you anything as regards the legal documents.”
Her jaw clenched, “What is my uncle doing with the viscounty?”
“I cannot say.”
“Has he found more investment partners?”
“I—I am not sure.”
“Has he paid the debts father was managing?” she asked.
Baur was pale. “Ma’am, please understand that I cannot disclose any details.”
“Why else would he want to try to sell the home my mother is living in? Why else would he put his brother’s wife on the street?” Ariadne said.
. “Your Grace, I wish I could help you; I really do, but my hands are tied. If I do as you ask and he finds out, my livelihood is endangered.”
“So, you would rather lie and cover the misdeeds of a greedy man with no conscience,” Ariadne said calmly. “I mistook you, Mr. Baur. As did my father, I would imagine.”
That seemed to push him from cringing under her accusations to defending his reputation. His spine straightened, and his brows lowered. “Your Grace, even with my limited power, this matter should be handled between lords.”
Stunned at his sudden turn and his insult to her intelligence, Ariadne’s mouth opened and closed twice before she found her words. “You question my intelligence to understand simple numbers?”
“I simply think the female constitution is not suited for these matters,” he said.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. James linger at the doorway with a cup of tea in hand. The poor man looked as if he were in the middle of a shooting match and scared to move in case he got hit.
He seemed to steel himself and came forward to rest the fine China cup and saucer before her. “Weak Hyson tea, a splash of cream, and a single cube of sugar,” he said. “I remember how you used to take your tea, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Mr. James, but I won’t be staying.” She stood. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Baur.”
She felt a knot of frustration inside her breast as she headed out to the carriage to come around. Unsure of what her next move would be, she wondered if Cedric should have come, if Baur would have folded under Cedric’s powerful pull.
“Where to, Your Grace?” the footman asked as the carriage stopped and he went to open the door.
“Home,” she said tightly while taking his help into the vehicle.
Rolling his neck, Cedric winced at the bite in his stiff muscles. Taking a cue from his misstep with Draven, he’d made sure to investigate this new candidate, and when the report had come back a clean slate, he’d felt one trouble drop off his shoulder.
He looked over a note from Hunt. Leander was still holed up in that club, most likely waiting for a ship so he could scurry off to the new world or wherever his fancy took him.
Flicking the card back to the drawer, he settled back into his chair. “If you want to go, Leander, I won’t stop you. But you are not going without an apology and an explanation.”
Shunting another folio to the side, he promised himself only one more task and reached for it— his door slammed in, and Ariadne swept in like a hurricane.
Instantly, he was concerned.
“That bounder!” She puffed out. “The gall of him!”
His brows shot up; this was the first time he had ever seen her incensed. She plucked at the buttons of her coat— which she had not taken off downstairs— and she almost strangled herself with the unopened top button when she tried to shuck the coat off.
“Ariadne—”
She finally got the button open and flung the coat on the nearest flat surface and began to pace while tugging off her gloves. “He said the female constitution is not suited for these matters!”
Cedric frowned as he could not follow her train of thought. “Ariadne, what are you talking about?”
She spun to him. “Mr. Baur.”
He shook his head and stood, “You are telling me the middle of the story, sweetheart. Start from the beginning.”
Her pretty lips parted, then shut. “Did you…. did you just call me sweetheart?”
“I did,” he said, while suppressing his own shock at the word that had left his mouth. “Now, tell me what is causing you to be in such a froth.”
He padded over to a set of seats around his coffee table, he sat, and when she followed, the deluge came. She told him about journeying to her father’s old steward and trying to get records of her uncle's spending, but the steward, now beholden to her uncle, refused.
“It’s clear that he is not only legally tied to my uncle, but I think my uncle has something on him that he is afraid of getting out, or he and Thaddeus are robbing the estate blind,” she said.
He said, “We will get to the bottom of this.”
Ariadne’s lips tightened. “I know this is only a taste of the derision women feel in society, but even for a duchess? I am incensed.”
A sardonic snort left his throat, “Your best bet, Ariadne, is to be as beastly as I am, so they know you are not one to be trifled with.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t think I can be like you, unless being beastly is a contagion, I will have to prove my worth another way.” She scowled, “I am so upset, I want to punch something.”
“You?” he asked as she got up and began to pace. “Hit someone? You?”
“What, pray tell, do you find so amusing?” His wife’s icy tones cut through his humor.
Her cheeks were stained with crimson, and her tightly pressed lips wobbled ever so slightly. She tilted her head up and glared at him. Grunting, he stood and crossed over to her in three long strides. As he reached out for her, she lightly pushed him away with a smack to his chest.
“This is not funny, Cedric.”
He seized both her wrists in his enormous hands and jerked her against his iron-hard chest. He kissed her so hard that her head jerked back.
With a growl, he deftly transferred both her wrists to one of his great paws and placed the other hand supportively behind her head. The ravaging kiss went on for long enough that he could feel when the blasts of anger petered out of her rigid body.
“What do you plan to do?”
He challenged her, easily brushing off the soft, glaring stare still aimed at him. “I—” she paused. “I do not know yet.”
She drifted back to the seats, leaned over to brace her elbows on her knees and stared vacantly at the whorls on the coffee table.
“Think it through,” he advised her. “What is the next logical step? Push your emotions away and follow the breadcrumbs the steward dropped for you.”
Her eyes shifted. “He said that he could not share any details without my uncle’s approval.
That it is a legal matter… which in any sense tells me there is something foul afoot,” she sat up.
“I should get the courts involved. And I need to speak with Mother. In hindsight, I should have done that first.”
“You can always do that,” he said. “As for now, you know what to do and where to go. I will help you to maneuver through the many traps in the legal system.”
“Meaning?” she blinked at him.
“Corrupt judges, incompetent clerks who coincidentally lose records, elitist magistrates, lawmen who say they are on your side but work for the other half of the coin,” he rubbed his face. “Not to mention the convoluted legalese of property law and the rights of ownership.”
She sighed, “All I know is that I have to keep the roof my father left over my mother’s head.”
“Get some rest,” he told her. “We’ll talk about this move over supper.”
The sun had long set when Ariadne, after having a soothing, warm bath, and dressed in another new night rail, this one silky, gray donned a night rail edged in lace and brushed her hair the requisite one hundred strokes before winding it into a single plait.
The looking glass reflected her crisply perfect ensemble as she wrapped a silky robe over her and padded to meet Cedric in his study for supper.
He was seated behind his desk, but her eyes drooped to the magnificent, covered feast laid out upon the Aubusson rug.
“A picnic by candlelight,” she sighed. “I never expected such a thing from you. How romantic.”
“Just don’t tell anyone.” He said as he rounded the table. Looking sinfully virile in his black silk robe, he bent and kissed her cheek; his familiar lavender oil from his bath sent a pleasant shiver up her spine. “I have a reputation to uphold.”
Gently, she folded her skirts and sat. “What is next for you? A sonnet?”
“Hardly,” he snorted.
Her giggling, her dimpling, and her soft laughter prodded him to laugh as well.
He filled both waiting glasses with warm spiced wine and handed one to her while he uncovered a dish on the cart, revealing: partridge pie with a golden crust, sturgeon cooked with parsley and lemon, and slivers of toasted bread.
“Eat what you want to,” he said.
Seeing him dig into his plate with gusto, she picked up her fork and took a bite of the sturgeon. “Mmm,” She moaned before she swallowed. “It’s so warm and buttery.”
“I thought you’d like it,” he said.
As she finished the fish, she said, “Before I forget, I told Emily that I’d arrange a version of ton’s soiree for her and her friend,” she said. “I thought it would be nice to create something for the little girls our neighbors and friends would have.”
He stilled, and a dark feeling washed over his chest. “With boys?” his growl came out harsher than he’d like.
Ariadne did not blink an eye. “No, nothing like that. More like a fun outing to a travelling menagerie or a fair. Mayhap a puppet show at Almack’s and a lovely tea after. A picnic at Hyde Park, something simple.”
“I see,” he polished off his plate, she marveled.
“How can you eat like that and stay so fit?” She asked.
“I take regular exercise.” He helped himself to a grape and ate. “Well, I used to, and thinking of it, I should start swimming again.”
She settled happily on the carpet, patting the space next to him. Reaching over, he plucked a rich, purple grape off the stem and held it to her mouth.
He didn’t have to say a word as she leaned in, parted her lips and plucked the tart orb from his mouth, filled her mouth, she saw the way his eyes went heavy-lidded.
Next came a tidbit of roasted pheasant, and she took the succulent morsel from his fingertips and licked her lips. The second time, when he tore off a hunk from a chicken leg, she suckled at his fingertips.
His eyes darkened. “Be careful with what you are doing, Ariadne.”
“What am I doing?” She asked innocently.