Chapter 27
“You are entirely certain that this cravat is properly tied, Briggs? I feel as though it is attempting to strangle me by slow degrees.”
“It is tied exactly as it should be, Your Grace. I suspect the sensation has more to do with your evening than your neckcloth.”
Julian caught his valet’s eye in the mirror and found no sympathy waiting there, only the faint, knowing amusement of a man who had dressed him for a great many evenings and apparently recognized precisely what made this one different.
He found Louisa waiting in the entrance hall and felt his evening threaten to unravel at the sight of her, gowned in deep blue silk that caught the candlelight whenever she moved, a string of pearls at her throat that had been her grandmother’s—the only piece of jewelry she wore that had not come from him.
“You are staring, Your Grace.”
“I am admiring. There is a difference.”
“Is there?” Warmth softened her face, quickly masked beneath her usual composure, though not quickly enough to escape his notice. “We ought to go, or Lady Camden will finish her opening remarks before we arrive to hear them.”
The carriage ride to Lord and Lady Camdens’ smaller gathering passed in easy, familiar conversation, Louisa recounting some small domestic dispute between Mrs. Whitfield and the new under-gardener over the proper pruning of the roses.
Julian found himself, as he so often did now, considerably more interested in the gestures she made with her hands than in the substance of the dispute itself.
“You are not listening, Your Grace.”
“I am listening. The gardener believes the roses need pruning in October. Mrs. Whitfield believes pruning them in November is considerably wiser.”
“You have simply repeated the last sentence I said.” Louisa’s mouth curved, amusement dancing in her eyes. “I’m beginning to think that you find the household disputes considerably less riveting than you pretend to.”
“I find everything about household disputes riveting, Louisa. I merely have difficulty concentrating this evening.”
Flustered pleasure flickered across her face at that, and she looked away toward the window, though Julian caught the small smile she failed to suppress.
The Camdens’ drawing room was already crowded by the time they arrived, candlelight and laughter spilling warm through the open doors. They had scarcely been announced when Julian felt Louisa’s hand tighten briefly on his arm.
“Sir Edmund is here.”
Julian followed her gaze to where Vane stood near the refreshments table, engaged in easy conversation with Lord Camden, his silver head bent in the attentive posture that had once struck him as gracious rather than calculating.
“He has as much right to attend as anyone, I suppose, whatever I think of him.” Julian’s jaw tightened despite the light tone he attempted. “Stay near me, if it does not trouble you overmuch.”
“I usually prefer it, Your Grace, regardless of the company.”
* * *
They were inevitably drawn into the evening’s various conversations, and it was perhaps three-quarters of an hour later, Julian momentarily claimed by Lord Camden’s questions regarding the autumn harvest, that Louisa became aware of Vane approaching, positioning himself directly beside her near the card room doorway with the unhurried confidence of a man who had chosen his moment deliberately.
“Your Grace.” His bow was correct in every way, his smile warm, and yet Louisa felt, exactly as she had at their first meeting, some careful calculation moving behind the pleasantry, a man arranging his approach the way one arranged pieces on a board.
“How well you look this evening. Married life continues to agree with you remarkably.”
“You are kind, Sir Edmund.”
“Not kind at all, merely observant.” His eyes flicked toward the door, as though expecting someone, and Louisa found herself watching him with the wariness she reserved for men whose charm arrived rather too smoothly for genuine warmth.
“I understand that your ward continues to make remarkable progress. All of London speaks of the miracle you have apparently worked with him.”
“He has done the greater part of the work himself, Sir Edmund. I have simply listened properly, which I gather no one troubled to do before.”
“How admirably modest of you.” His smile did not waver, though he seemed to file the answer away. Louisa felt a cold prickle of unease settle beneath her composure. “And the infant. Eleanor, is it not? I understand she thrives as well.”
“She does, thank you.”
“A remarkable arrangement, that a woman so recently married should already have charge of two children not her own by blood.” His tone remained light, conversational, and yet Louisa felt something sharpen beneath it, some deliberate testing of ground she did not yet fully understand the shape of.
“And the child’s mother? I confess I have never quite understood how she came to your household. ”
Louisa stiffened, the question landing with a precision that told her it had not been asked idly. Her heart began to beat faster than the pleasant hum of the gathering around her warranted.
He means to see how badly I falter.
Vane’s smile widened as he watched her with the patient satisfaction of a man who had noticed her stillness and read it exactly as he’d intended to. “Forgive me. I find myself endlessly curious about the practical arrangements of a household so thoroughly transformed in so short a time.”
“I see Sir Edmund, though I fail to see what interest my household holds for you.” Louisa kept her voice even, refusing to let him see how close his question had landed to something she had no intention of discussing with him of all people.
“Merely idle curiosity, Your Grace. You must forgive an old man his interest in the households of his acquaintances.”
“Vane.” Julian’s voice cut across them both, and Louisa felt a rush of relief so immediate it nearly embarrassed her.
He crossed the room with a speed that drew several curious glances, positioning himself firmly at her side.
“I did not realize you had taken an interest in my household’s arrangements. ”
“Merely conversation, Your Grace. Nothing more.”
“Then you will forgive me if I find your conversation this evening considerably less welcome than most.” Julian’s voice carried an edge Louisa had rarely heard him direct at anyone, and she felt something in her chest ease at the sheer protectiveness of it.
“My wife has answered quite enough of your idle curiosity for one night, Sir Edmund. I would ask that you direct any further questions regarding my household to me, rather than continue interrogating her on matters that concern no one beyond these walls.”
“I meant no offense, Your Grace.”
“None is taken, provided the subject is closed.”
Vane inclined his head, something unreadable passing behind his eyes before he offered a final, correct bow and withdrew toward the card room.
Louisa let out a breath she had not realized she’d been holding.
“He already knows something,” she whispered, her earlier ease gone. “Or suspects it, at the very least. That was not an idle question, Julian. He was testing to see how I answered it.”
“I know.” Julian’s jaw remained tight, watching the space where Vane had disappeared. “I do not like it.”
Louisa said nothing further. The warmth of the earlier carriage ride, the careless pleasure of his teasing, all of it vanished beneath the unease Vane’s questions had left in their wake. She found herself standing closer to Julian’s side than usual, grateful for his steady presence beside her.
* * *
Julian had scarcely left Louisa in conversation with Lady Camden, some safe distance now placed between her and the card room, when Vane materialized at his elbow.
“Ashvale. A word, if you can spare one.”
“I find I have less patience for your words this evening than usual, Vane.”
“I understand, and I confess I owe you an apology for it.” Vane’s mouth curved, an expression that did not remotely resemble contrition despite the words it accompanied.
“I had forgotten quite how protective a man becomes in the earliest months of marriage, particularly one arrived at with such admirable haste. I did not mean to cause your Duchess discomfort. It is just that at this age, I find myself endlessly curious about the small particulars of other people’s households. An old man’s failing, nothing more.”
“Then perhaps, in the future, you might direct your curiosity toward subjects that do not concern my wife.”
“Of course. Of course.” Vane inclined his head too readily and steered them both a few steps further from the nearest cluster of guests, his voice dropping into something lower, more private.
“Though I confess the reason I sought you out this evening has less to do with your household and more to do with a matter I mentioned to you some weeks past, at Rosemere.”
“Thomas Whitmore.”
“Precisely.” Vane’s smile remained fixed, pleasant, and yet Julian felt, beneath it, the same careful calculation Louisa had described to him not an hour ago.
“I understand he has been rather busy of late, gathering old papers, calling on solicitors, making a nuisance of himself in circles that would rather forget his father’s unfortunate history.
I had hoped, when last we spoke, that you might see the wisdom in addressing the matter before it grew unmanageable. I find myself hoping so still.”
“I recall your suggestion clearly enough, Vane. My answer has not changed.”
“A pity.” Something flickered behind Vane’s eyes, brief and cold, gone again before it could properly be named.
“You might consider a simpler course than the one you presently favor. A public statement. Nothing elaborate. Merely a word or two from a man of your standing, suggesting that young Whitmore’s claims need more substantiation than he has yet produced, that grief has perhaps clouded his judgment regarding his father’s affairs.
Such a statement, coming from you, would settle the matter more quietly than whatever alternative you presently have in mind. ”
“And if I decline to make it?”
“Then I fear the matter may grow considerably less quiet than either of us would prefer.” Vane’s voice remained entirely pleasant, entirely conversational, the threat wrapped so carefully in courtesy that anyone passing by might have mistaken the whole exchange for idle pleasantries about the weather.
“Young men with grievances and old letters in their possession tend to attract attention, Ashvale, once they begin speaking freely. And attention, once drawn, has a habit of finding more than any of us might wish it to find. I should hate to see your household drawn into scrutiny it has only just begun to enjoy some peace from.”
Julian regarded him steadily, refusing to let the chill of the words show on his face. “You speak in riddles this evening, Vane.”
“I speak plainly enough, for a man willing to listen properly.” Vane’s smile widened before he glanced toward where Louisa stood in easy conversation with Lady Camden, a glance that lasted perhaps half a second too long to be entirely idle.
“You have built something rather pleasant for yourself these past months, Your Grace. A contented household. A wife who has, by every account, worked wonders with your ward. I would hate to see any of it disturbed by matters that could so easily be settled with a single well-chosen word from you.”
“I will consider it.”
“I hoped you might.” Vane inclined his head once more, entirely satisfied, and withdrew toward the card room with the same unhurried ease he had arrived with, leaving Julian standing alone near the refreshments table, his jaw tight, turning over every carefully wrapped threat the man had just delivered without once raising his voice above a pleasant murmur.