Chapter 11
By Tuesday, Estella had concocted roughly fourteen different interpretations of that moment at the musicale.
Sebastian had looked at her and she'd seen…something. She was certain of it. But what, precisely, had she seen? That was the question she carried with her to Hatchard's bookstore.
"You're distracted," Thea said a little later, upon Estella's arrival at their usual shelf. "You've been staring at the same page for two minutes, and it's the index."
Estella closed the book. "I need to talk to you about something."
Thea adjusted her spectacles and gave Estella her full attention.
In the short period of time they’d come to know one another, this was one of the many things Estella loved about Thea.
When she listened, she listened completely.
No polite half-attention, no wandering gaze.
She fixed you with those sharp dark eyes and waited.
Estella told her everything. The arrangement with the duchess and Sebastian.
The promenade, the rain, the way he'd called her Little Ella.
The dinner, Lord Alderton's kindness, Charlotte's dramatic arrival. And then the musicale. How Lord Alderton had paid special attention to her, and Sebastian’s interruption.
Their conversation, the confusing emotions. All of it.
By the time she was done, Estella was no more clear on anything, but she felt a good deal lighter for having shared her stories with someone. Thea was silent for a long moment.
"So," Thea said slowly. "A marquess has agreed to escort you, protect you, and vet your suitors. As a brother."
"Yes."
"Even though he’s not your brother. Not, in fact, related to you in any way?" Thea arched a brow as if confirming this fact.
Estella nodded.
"And you believed him." It was phrased as a statement, but it clearly held a question.
"It's— He said—" Estella faltered. "He was Andrew's closest friend. It stands to reason that he'd feel obligated to—to help."
For some reason, her words felt ridiculous under Thea’s blatant scrutiny.
"Mm." Thea pushed her spectacles up her nose. "And this brotherly marquess. He called you by an old intimate nickname—"
"I wouldn’t say intimate."
"In the rain." Thea continued as if she hadn’t interrupted. "While shielding you with his coat."
Estella shifted from one foot to the other. "He was being considerate."
Thea folded her arms. "He was being something."
Estella felt a telltale heat in her cheeks. "He sees me as a duty. He even said—"
A gentleman in a brown coat edged past them with a murmured "Pardon me" and reached for a volume on the shelf behind Thea's head.
They both went silent until he'd moved on, and Estella used the pause to pretend great interest in the spine of a book on sheep husbandry.
"And how do you see him?" Thea asked.
Estella turned and opened her mouth. When she couldn’t figure out how to answer that, she said instead, "What does that matter? Lord Alderton is the potential suitor."
Thea’s brow furrowed. She looked at Estella as though she were trying to figure out a riddle. "You do realize that in all this time you’ve been speaking of the two men, you’ve spent a very small fraction talking about this potential suitor."
Estella opened her mouth to protest, but Thea lifted a hand to stop her. "And in that brief time, your voice was level, your cheeks their normal hue, and your general demeanor calm and—dare I say it—uninterested."
Estella blinked a few times. Was that true? Yes. Undoubtedly.
Drat.
"But when you were speaking about the marquess, on the other hand…" Thea trailed off.
Estella’s cheeks burned so hot, she had no doubt she’d turned scarlet. She didn’t need Thea to spell it out. She’d been here. She’d heard herself growing louder, her voice higher with passion. And what was more, she knew very well how her heart had hammered. But even so…
"That doesn't mean anything," she said.
Thea raised an eyebrow. And that eyebrow was capable of conveying more skepticism than most people could manage with a full paragraph.
Estella looked down at the index page she'd been not-reading. "Alderton is lovely, and he listens, and he's kind. But Sebastian— Oh, I don’t know." She stopped and shook her head. "It doesn't matter. He's made it very clear this is about obligation."
"Has he?" Thea leaned against the bookshelf. "Or has he made it very clear that he wants you to believe it's about obligation? Those are rather different things."
Estella went still. Part of her wanted to argue. She wanted to say that she’d clearly been reading too much into a single look and an old nickname spoken in the rain.
But another part of her very much wanted Thea to be right.
She took a deep, steadying breath, but her mind and heart continued to waver.
Thea’s gaze softened. "Could that be it?"
Estella pursed her lips. Yes? No. Maybe?
Truth be told, Thea was voicing the suspicion that had been growing inside her like a vine, threading through every interaction with Sebastian until she could no longer tell where observation ended and hope began.
"There's something else," Estella said. "Something I haven't told you."
Thea’s lips curved up at the corners. "There’s more?"
Estella told Thea about the milliner's bill.
About Mr. Phelps and his sudden departure for Cornwall.
About Mr. Ashby's surprise inheritance, and the squire's son who stopped calling.
She even found herself babbling about the kitchen funds that appeared and disappeared and then reappeared again, and the household accounts that occasionally balanced when they had no right to.
Thea listened without interrupting. When Estella finished, Thea's expression had shifted from curiosity to focused intensity. "Someone's been managing your family's affairs."
Estella nodded. It was no use denying it any longer. One odd circumstance here and there was one thing, but saying it aloud, and hearing them all together left little doubt that there was someone behind it all.
Thea cocked her head to the side. "And you don't know who."
"I've asked everyone I can think of. My father either doesn't know or won't say. The bills were mostly settled in the country through intermediaries, so I can't trace them from London."
Thea was quiet for a moment, her fingers drumming against the spine of a book. "Who has the means? They’d need a significant fortune and access to solicitors, I’d imagine."
Estella huffed. "Half the peerage, theoretically."
"But who has the motive? Who would care enough about an impoverished viscount's family to spend years quietly settling debts and removing unsuitable suitors?"
The duchess. Estella couldn’t quite bring herself to offer that suggestion. The duchess had been nothing but forthright about her desire to intervene. Subterfuge did not fit with her character.
And so the question continued to hang between them. Who would care enough…?
"A marquess," she said slowly. "A marquess who was Andrew's closest friend."
Thea said nothing. She just watched Estella in a way that made her feel like a particularly dimwitted pupil.
"I don't know." Estella shook her head. "I don't have proof. But it started right after Andrew died."
Thea crossed her arms. "Estella. If a man has been secretly managing your family's affairs for two years, paying your debts"—she paused here to widen her eyes meaningfully—"removing men he deems unworthy, and then appearing in London to serve as your personal guardian…
" Thea paused. "I do not believe that is obligation, dear. "
Estella's heart was beating too fast. "What is it, then?"
Thea’s lips quirked up on one side. "I believe that the common term is 'secret admirer.'"
"No," Estella said quickly. "No, that's— He doesn't even like me. He can barely look at me without—"
"Without what?" Thea's voice was gentle but relentless. "Estella. The man is not indifferent to you. That much is clear. The question is whether his feelings are guilt, or duty, or something else entirely."
“Something else entirely.” The words seemed to echo inside her. But Estella didn’t dare hope that it was true.
Estella was forced to admit, however—she wanted it to be something else entirely. She wanted it so badly that she was afraid to examine it, because hoping made you vulnerable, and being vulnerable led to heartache.
"I can't prove any of it, though," she said, latching onto the logistical issue rather than inconvenient emotions. "Mr. Phelps and the like are long gone, and the debts were all settled in the country."
"Not all of them." Thea's eyes sharpened. "You said your father has accrued debts here in London."
"Yes. A place called—" Estella hesitated. "I don't even know its proper name. I suppose it’s the sort of establishment decent women don't speak of."
Thea’s eyes widened. "A gaming hell."
The excitement in the other woman’s tone made Estella wary. "Thea."
"What? I've read about them. The mathematics alone are fascinating.
The way they calculate odds, the house advantages—" Thea stopped herself and started again.
"If someone paid off your father's gaming debts, the proprietor would have a record.
And the debts were settled here, in London, which means the trail is fresh. That's your lead."
"My…lead?" Estella stared at her. "You're suggesting I walk into a gaming hell."
"No, of course not."
Before Estella could sigh with relief, Thea continued. "I'm suggesting we walk into a gaming hell."
"Pardon? But—"
Thea was already straightening and moving toward the door, pushing her spectacles up her nose as she went. Estella hurried after. "But we cannot."
"We can. I'll go with you, as your chaperone, of course."
Estella hurried to keep up with Thea, her mind racing. Her chaperone. But surely Thea wasn’t old enough to be considered a spinster yet. How could she be her chaperone?
They kept talking even as they exited the shop. "The proprietor won't expect two young women, which gives us the advantage of surprise. And frankly, I've been curious about the operational mathematics of these establishments since I read Bernoulli's treatise on probability."
"But…" Estella stopped short. "This isn't a mathematical outing, Thea."
Thea smiled. "Everything is a mathematical outing if you look at it correctly."
Estella should refuse. A well-bred young woman did not visit gaming hells, accompanied or otherwise. If anyone discovered them, the scandal alone would undo everything the duchess had done for her.
But even as she hesitated, that irritation she’d felt back at the musicale returned in force. Someone had been managing her life without her even knowing. They had been making decisions about her family—about her—without her knowledge or consent.
It was well past time she discovered who. And if it turned out that this secret benefactor was indeed Sebastian…
Her breath caught and she pressed a hand to her chest before hurrying after Thea.
If it was Sebastian…
Well. She needed to know that too.