Chapter 12 #3
"Carefully. First we confirm it is truly him. Only then do we move." Harrington's mouth curved, thin and without warmth. "And we will not be the ones to do the confirming. The Baron will do that for us."
"The Baron does not yet know there is anything to confirm."
"He does not need to know. He only needs a doubt planted where a doubt will grow on its own." Harrington glanced toward the door, where the sound of the dinner bell had just begun to carry through the house. "Come. Let us not keep our host waiting."
Dinner was a quiet affair, quieter than the Baron seemed to have expected, and Amelia knew she was the reason for it long before her father said anything.
She answered when spoken to. She could not, afterward, have said what she answered, or what had been asked.
Her mind kept returning, of its own accord and against her every effort to hold it still, to a garden at night and a man's voice saying I enlisted younger than most men do, and each time it did, the room around her seemed to recede a little further.
"Amelia." Her father's voice, gentle but pointed. "You have said barely a word since the soup. Is something wrong?"
"I slept poorly last night." It was, at least, true as far as it went. "I find I cannot hold a conversation properly this evening. I am sorry."
"Then you ought to go up and rest," her father said. "There is no shame in it."
"I agree," Harrington said, setting down his fork with the pleasant, measured air of a man offering nothing but kindness. "You should go."
Amelia hesitated, then rose. "If I am honest, I have not found the conversation this evening especially engaging — I confess the finer points of the county's politics rather escape me.
But I would not leave the table on so poor an excuse if there were not a real one behind it. I hope you will forgive me."
"I appreciate your honesty, Lady Amelia.
" Harrington inclined his head toward her, and something in his eyes did not quite match the courtesy of his tone.
"Though I might offer a small piece of advice in return, since you have been so frank with us.
Too much honesty can be a dangerous habit in a person.
Not among friends, of course — not here.
But it is worth remembering to be careful whom one chooses to trust with the truth. "
Amelia held perfectly still for a moment.
"I will think on your advice," she said, and left the room before her voice could betray anything further.
The door had barely closed behind her when Harrington turned his attention, unhurried, to his host.
"It is unfortunate that she is so tired this evening," he said. "Though I confess, in every misfortune there is generally some small opportunity, if one troubles to look for it."
The Baron looked up, curious. "What do you mean by that?"
"Only that I had rather hoped for a private word with you, Lord Whitfield, and had not quite found the moment for it while your daughter was present. I did not wish to involve her in a matter that may yet come to nothing." Harrington folded his hands on the table before him.
"Please, go on. I am listening."
Harrington was quiet a moment, as though gathering something he did not particularly enjoy revisiting.
"Many years ago," he said, "I held a good deal of sympathy for the late Duke of Beaumont.
We were not close, precisely, but I believed him wronged by what befell him, and I said so, more than once, to people who would have preferred I stayed silent.
It nearly cost me a great deal more than my standing at court.
I do not intend to make that same mistake twice — not for myself, and not for a new ally I have only just had the pleasure of meeting.
" He met the Baron's eyes directly. "If this man at Russell Hall is truly who I suspect, it is very much in our interest — yours and mine both — that the proper people learn of it.
We cannot go to him directly and ask; a man hiding for twenty years does not answer that question honestly, whatever we call ourselves.
We could remain in Ashcombe until the truth surfaced on its own, but that could take months, and I have obligations elsewhere that will not wait so long. "
"Then what would you have me do?"
"You are his neighbor," Harrington said simply.
"You have access no outsider could hope for.
Where I would only ever be an intruder, you may simply be curious.
Learn what there is to learn, in whatever way seems natural to you, and there will be a reward in it for your trouble — a great many people in this country still hold a grudge against that family, and would be grateful to know it had not quietly risen again under a false name.
" He spread his hands, the same small, deliberate gesture Amelia had watched him make at tea that morning.
"I have no personal stake in the matter myself, you understand.
But as I said — in every misfortune, there is generally an opportunity, for a man who knows where to look for it. "
The Baron was quiet for a long moment, turning the thought over.
"I understand you," he said at last.
Harrington smiled, faint and satisfied, and reached for his wine.