Chapter 13
“Apleasure,” Dominic murmured before hastening from the parlor where he’d happened upon Verity and her guest.
He hadn’t known she was having anyone in attendance.
Should he have? Striding from the room once the door was closed, Dominic scolded himself for expecting anything.
Or not expecting anything. Verity had noted how important it was to be involved in society, so surely having guests fell within those parameters.
But he hadn’t known the young lady. Lady Isabel Kowalski was the third and surprisingly young daughter of an elderly earl and his fourth wife. She’d married a Prussian prince but apparently had returned for a few months to see her family.
Does Verity know everybody?
He told himself it hardly mattered, that she could do as she liked. He would simply have to be quieter upon entering his own home.
Dominic raked a hand through his hair on his way up the stairs toward his study. The afternoon ride always helped him clear his mind and refocus on the important matters.
Standing outside the room, just on time, was his solicitor. Mr. Henry James, wiry and tall with hunch, nodded to him. “Your Grace. How do you do?”
“Well, well.” Dominic grasped his hand before leading him into the study. “I’ve had time to review the contracts you delivered the other day. It was invaluable, along with your notes. There are just a few questions before we wrap up the matter of my father’s accounts.”
The solicitor had graying hair and gray eyes, but no lines on his face. Having hired him after letting his father’s solicitor go, Dominic knew it had to have been over five years. And yet Mr. James hadn’t changed a wink.
“I would expect nothing else from you,” the man said as he folded himself into the chair. It was the third proposed desk set that Dominic had brought through in the hopes that it would adjust better for the long-legged fellow. But nothing seemed quite right for him.
Just as he was going to make a mental note of that, he noted one of his piles of papers on the desk was out of order. Dominic paused before taking a seat and picked it up.
“Did you come in here before I arrived?” He asked.
“Hm? Certainly not, I was only here a few minutes before you, Your Grace. I wouldn’t dare enter a room here without you present.
It’s a beautiful house I would hate to leave a mark on,” the man admitted.
He did tend to grow clumsy if handed anything besides his briefcase, pen, or papers.
The man was all angles. “Is something amiss?”
Dominic frowned, uncertain but for the feeling in his gut.
“It’s not…”
How could he explain? Quizzically looking about the desk, Dominic couldn’t tell what else might be wrong. It felt rather ridiculous to say out loud. Yes, this paper was in the wrong pile––but could he have left it in the wrong pile?
And that pile is tilted, as something brushed against the desk. Was it I? Someone else? The study was cleaned two days ago, on schedule. There shouldn’t be…
He frowned when he saw the second drawer slightly ajar. First, he closed it, hesitated, and then reopened it. Private correspondence belonged here that didn’t include estate matters or financials. There wasn’t much to keep in here beyond a few invitations he had retained for one reason or another.
“Your Grace?” Mr. James leaned forward with a concerned brow. “Is something wrong? Shall I call a footman for you?”
Although Dominic considered it, he knew it would be foolish. What could he say? Suspect? That someone had come through and rifled through his papers? Everyone knew that no one was to enter except for the most senior maid, Eleanor, who cleaned just the way he had showed her ten years ago.
No one but the two of them would ever sort through this room.
And yet…
Who would? Another servant? Verity? The window was opened on occasion to provide fresh air, and it sat right behind him. There were still too many possible reasons before he could make assumptions, especially accusations.
“It’s fine.” Dominic closed the drawer again. He placed the paper in the correct pile with a forced smile. “I don’t mean to distract us. Let me pull out my list of questions to begin, shall I?”
He redirected the conversation to the correct topic for the afternoon. There were other matters at hand.
But the papers and drawer remained in the back of his mind. There was no one to question, no one to accuse. All he did was make sure to keep this in the back of the mind. Because once meant nothing. But twice would be a coincidence and a third time… It would have to mean something more.
Dominic took this seriously. After his meeting with his solicitor, he added notes to his folders regarding movement for the contracts. Everything had transferred into his name once the marriage took place, but several components required more attention than he had anticipated.
More folders. More papers. He liked copies of everything. His solicitor managed the originals while he kept copies. Which meant an ever growing pile of papers…
“Your Grace?”
He turned to the door in surprise with several piles still caught up in his arms. Rearranging his files on his desk was taking longer than expected. But since he had started it, it was best he finished it as well.
There stood his housekeeper. A chambermaid peeking over her shoulder. They looked at him expectantly.
Did they already say something else?
“What is it?” He asked.
“It’s past supper time,” Mrs. Ridley explained, shifting back to make space for the chambermaid.
She was training, the young one. Or she had recently trained.
He couldn’t recall at the moment. But she carried the laden tray well to his desk, pausing without knowing where to put it.
“The duchess asked us to bring you a tray.”
He gestured with his head. “The chair. The left one.”
The chambermaid nodded, barely rattling the tray before straightening up. She offered a short curtsey before moving to hide behind the housekeeper.
“Is there anything more we can do for you?” Mrs. Ridley asked.
“No. Wait. What time is it?”
The housekeeper kept a small watch on her chatelaine. “It’s a quarter past eight.”
Supper would have been an hour and fifteen minutes ago, though he hadn’t noticed. Frowning, he asked, “Why didn’t anyone send for me?”
“They did, Your Grace,” Mrs. Ridley said with an impassive expression while fixing the watch amongst her watches. “Three footmen.”
“And did I say anything?”
“Yes, I believe you told them you would be down soon. No time was provided and they confirmed you never looked at their face when they passed by.”
He hesitated. That sounded right. This happened on occasion.
Once off his routine, he sometimes struggled to veer back on the path.
Especially when his work was not yet completed; in truth, he was only halfway through the shift of work.
He’d had it alphabetical before and now he needed to sort everything chronologically. Already he was close…
“Your Grace?”
“Hm? Oh, yes. Yes, thank you for the food tray. Do send my apologies to the duchess. I’ll be sure to be in attendance tomorrow night,” Dominic reassured them before adding, “You may go.”
The two women left and he resumed his work to correct his piles of documents.
A few needed to be set off to the side. He wasn’t altering his entire system, no, just those currently residing on his desk.
The important matters. This new process would help him align on the two properties that had fallen into disrepair in the last couple of years and should also help him clear up a land dispute that went back fifty years no one had told him about.
“Your Grace?”
“Hmm. Set it on the chair.”
“I did.”
“Mmhmm,” he mused, lost in one of his files. He had the answers from Mr. James in this banking statement, but the numbers still didn’t line up correctly. Not the way he needed them to.
A hand touched him. So sudden and so gentle, he barely managed not to drop the paper. Dominic blinked as he turned to see what was happening.
Verity stood there at his elbow with wide eyes. She searched his face for a long moment. “Are you well? Is something wrong?”
“No, not at all.”
Turning to show him the chairs, she gestured to the laden tray of food. Now everything would have gone cold. Soft. Stale. In the other chair was a tea tray. Steam filtered through the teapot.
Only then did Dominic realize his eyes were burning. He set down the paper on the edge of the desk, leaning on it while his other hand rubbed his eyes. How long had he been in here? Grasping his pocketwatch, he found it only an hour before midnight.
“Dear lord,” he muttered under his breath. “That cannot be the time.”
“I’m afraid so.” She turned away for a moment before returning with a steaming cup of tea. “It’s not your preferred, but it was all I could find at this house. Most of the house is asleep. We have an order for coffee coming tomorrow.”
“Comforting.” He accepted the cup. “You were thoughtful.”
She shrugged a shoulder in a most unladylike way. He didn’t mind. It was casual, honest. “I was worried.”
Confusion sparked as he eyed her. “About me in my study?”
“You’ve been in here most of the day,” she pointed out before tentatively asking, “It wasn’t because you met my friend, was it? Isabel?”
“No. Should it?”
“Certainly not. Isabel is very kind. Very generous. She’s the quiet sort, but I have always appreciated her sensitive nature through the years,” Verity said thoughtfully. As she spoke, she watched him before trailing her gaze to the desk. “So what has occupied your time here?”
After taking a sip, Dominic watched her browse the piles thoughtfully.
Her fingertips brushed across the documents without moving them.
She was composed and thoughtful with a slight furrow to her brow.
It was there more often than not, he mused, and wondered what it might feel like to brush it out with his thumb.
The thought made him pause.
“Three estates and farming land,” Verity murmured, never noticing the way he watched her. “Yours, I suppose?”
“Yes.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“How fascinating. You know, Cassian had to manage much of this on his own when he took the title. Our father wasn’t particularly well organized and fired his men of business every other year.
I think he’s still finding the occasional loan or land.
I’ve helped him with some of it, if you ever need another set of eyes or hands on the account books here,” she offered while straightening up.
His shoulders relaxed. “Oh?”
“Yes. Just say the word.” She added before pouring herself a cup of tes. The wrinkle in her brow faded and his gaze dropped to her hands.
Ink. She had ink stains on her fingers. He hadn’t realized she wasn’t wearing her gloves. The sight of her slender fingers caught his attention. He watched the way she moved around the table after setting down her cup, fixing up one pile of letters and then tugging at a drawer.
Within the drawer was a small paperweight that she used to set on one of the piles at the corner of the desk. It was liable to move and be shifted.
Has she been in here before?
Verity eventually realized he was watching her and stopped. “Is something wrong? I thought you might appreciate another weight. You have them on all the other piles.”
“Yes, thank you. I… was merely wondering over your preference for my documents instead of the decorations,” he said after a short delay.
“There aren’t any decorations in here.”
His lips twitched. “Exactly.”
A short chuckle escaped Verity. “Is this your way of asking for my help?”
“No, but should you be mindful of any art, I suppose this room could use some brightening up.” He glanced around before changing his mind. He didn’t want to talk to her about paintings. He wanted to talk about her. About what she knew. “Do you like accounting?”
“I like anything to do with numbers and language. And art,” she added after a short delay.
Dominic nodded slowly, thinking. “But you don’t read gossip journals? Your sisters noted how you pay them little mind.”
“I pay them an appropriate amount of mind,” Verity corrected him. He caught sight of a small smile while she turned away to retrieve her cup of coffee again. “Why? Do you like them?”
“I don’t read them often, I suppose.”
She paused. “Is this your way of asking about the newspapers?”
Of course he had to take note of the countless papers that came into the house. Especially since they were always delivered strictly to him though he kept telling the footmen that most were meant for Verity. It had been a surprise, one he didn’t mind.
“I find news in general interesting,” he said slowly, feeling his way carefully through the conversation.
He had no intentions of surprising her or scaring her.
It felt like he was trying to dance around a sleeping tiger.
“Especially how fast it can spread through society. The scandals, the factories, the ships.”
Verity’s gaze shifted away before she swallowed her tea and clutched the cup with both hands. “It is fascinating. But that’s society for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that society sets us apart from animals. We talk. We do more than talk. We share what we talk about. That creates a society. And more than that, we give meaning to everything we say. Shakespeare said it before how little is good or bad, but thinking makes it seem that way.”
He gave a slow nod. “I suppose you are correct.”
“Certainly I am,” she said without guile, just honest and calm.
“The scandal sheets do us a great favor, really. London is a very large hub. Not only can we know what people are doing when we are unable or uninvited to an event, but we can prepare ourselves for our next social function; we know who to avoid, who to greet. This not only benefits potential marriages but business and law as well. Half of what Parliament decides takes place amongst the soirees and balls though no one should like to admit it.”
The precision with which she spoke, diving further into the women’s salons and gentlemen’s clubs, was impressive. She understood gossip to a degree he had never given thought previously. There had been no need.
Is there a need now? Will there be a need?
Dominic couldn’t tell the future. No one could. But his gut told him that someday he would eventually have to ask Verity the truth.
It bothered him the potential need to ever raise the question about how she knew so much. Why she might be involved in something like that. And it bothered Dominic even more that he might know her answer and hear something else.
If I ask, when I ask, will she be honest with me?