Chapter Nineteen #2
“We do not,” David made sure to emphasize.
“I’ve no claim to it, as the title belonged to Adelaide’s mother.
You do know she is my half sister, don’t you?
We don’t discuss it much, especially in public.
It bothers my mother, that she brought no title to the marriage like my father’s first wife. Makes her feel somehow inferior.”
David rambled on, raising a glass to nothing in particular as he stopped to consider his words.
“They never told Adelaide. The estate was placed in a trust in my father’s care, and they’d planned to tell her after she married, so that her husband could run the place.”
David seemed to be getting rather flushed. Andrew couldn’t tell if that was from the alcohol or the rage he seemed to be simmering in. Perhaps a dangerous combination of both.
“It was a fine plan, but then she fell ill.” He rolled his eyes again. “She became a burden no one will carry, and now that she is of age, we have quite the problem. The Crown will come calling eventually. They’ll manage to find her, even secluded in the countryside.”
“And that is what you are afraid of? That she’ll learn the truth?” That overloud ringing was back in Andrew’s ears, and he thought it might actually be the hiss of steam from his blood boiling.
He’d had a similar thought about how His Majesty would eventually have a vested interest in the property and finding the title’s rightful owner.
“Oh, I am not afraid of anything.” David’s face shriveled up into a horrid grin.
“We were going to find her a husband we could trust to run the estate as we have been, but her being sent away worked just as well. It’s true that it becomes more complicated now she’s of age, but Adelaide is just as easy to control as any husband of hers would have been. Likely even more so.”
“Control?” Andrew nearly growled. Under the table, his hands balled into tight fists.
“Mmhm,” David raised his glass again with a shaking hand, his words beginning to slur. “My mother has been sending a physician—a friend of hers—to attend her every so often. He reports back what he’s seen, and he can be persuaded to linger around a bit longer than he should.”
“What exactly does that mean?” Andrew asked, suddenly stilled by fear that the doctor had seen him at Westfield Manor.
“It took time,” David sighed. “But we’ve learned what is important to Della.
She loves the domestics my mother hired, and she likes her peace and quiet in the country.
My mother didn’t believe it, so they recently went to see for themselves, and she was finally convinced.
Said she’d never seen Della happier. So we’re going to tell her that as long as she complies, and we get control of the barony—and its money—with her having the title in name only, she’ll get to keep the comforts of home.
If she doesn’t, well, things will get even more complicated. ”
It was astounding, the audacity of the man in front of him. Of his mother, his father. Their entire family. Taking advantage of Della’s illness. Banishing her to live a life of solitude in the country, instead of running an estate where she belonged.
“All she has to do is inform whoever comes knocking to inquire about Kinloss that she is in ill health, and therefore leaving the running of the estate in the care of her father, as it has been for decades. It’s quite simple, really. It won’t disturb her a bit.”
A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm Andrew.
His head spun. Andrew wasn’t sure if the amalgam of emotions in his chest were rage or devastation or hurt.
All he knew was that they were all for Della.
He stood up abruptly because he couldn’t take one more second in this disgusting place with this despicable man.
And to think, Andrew had once considered him a friend.
“What’s the matter?” David asked as Andrew began to step away. He was sure he looked frantic and irate. He could feel the aggrieved line of his brow tightening up.
“Nothing.” He tried to play it off. “I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow. Better be off.”
David shrugged. Andrew considered it a good excuse.
If he so much as mentioned something related to an actual job, David wouldn’t know the difference.
Briefly, Andrew considered staying. Making sure the stumbling drunk got home safely.
It only took a moment of recollection on their conversation for Andrew to dismiss the thought as quickly as it came.
Without so much as another word, he left the noise and the rancor of the club for the quiet darkness of the street. The cobblestones were damp with rain, and every breath of cold air felt like renewal in his lungs. Even if it was heavily scented with the unsavory aromas of the city.
He stopped at the corner, unsure of where he was or where he was going.
Andrew had always known when he needed to take a moment to himself, so he did.
He leaned against the wet bricks of a nearby building and let his head fall into his hands.
His mind raced through every cutting word, the motion behind every sip.
The ferocity of his own rage shocked him.
Once he calmed down, he knew what he needed. A plan.