Chapter 2 #2
The lights of the house glowed warm and yellow ahead of them. Biscuit’s large head was visible at the drawing room window, tracking their progress across the garden.
“Are those all your dogs?” Joseph asked as they neared the back door.
“They are, all three of them.”
He was quiet for a moment. “In the house?”
“They live there, yes.”
She could not see his expression clearly in the dark, but she had the distinct impression he was filing this information away. They came through the back door into the warmth of the hallway, and Midge launched herself immediately at the new arrival. Joseph took an involuntary step back.
“Hand out,” Temperance said. “Palm down, let her sniff you first.”
Joseph obeyed while Midge sniffed his hand with exhaustive thoroughness, and sat down.
“What is her name?” he asked.
“Midge. The large one by the stairs is Biscuit, and the short one is Peabody.”
“Peabody,” Joseph repeated, with a slight note of disbelief.
“He chose it himself, essentially. He simply had the look of a Peabody.” She set Soot down, and Soot immediately moved to the center of the hallway, sat down, and began washing her face with the unhurried air of a cat who had had a very satisfactory evening.
“Wait here a moment. I’ll find someone to… .”
“Joseph.”
The voice came from the far end of the hallway, and Temperance looked up.
The man standing there was tall and dressed impeccably. Light brown hair and dark blue eyes.
Those eyes moved from Joseph’s face and took in the mud on the jacket. The mud on the shirt.
“What,” the man said, “have you done to yourself?”
Joseph straightened to his full height.
“I was following the cat,” he said. “She went under the hedge and I was trying to catch her.”
“I see that you caught her.” The man’s gaze moved briefly to Soot, and then moved on to Temperance. “And you are?”
“Temperance Hosmer,” she said. “I live here. And you have just referred to my cat as though she were something unpleasant tracked in from the garden.”
Something moved in his expression.
“I referred to it…”
“Her,” Temperance said pleasantly.
“…as dirty,” he finished. “Which it demonstrably is.”
“She went under a hedge. So did your son, by the look of things, and I notice you have not called him dirty.”
“Who are you?” he said again.
“I told you. Temperance Hosmer. The Dowager Viscountess Wilmington is my mother.” She held his gaze without difficulty. “And you are?”
He looked at her for a moment. When he spoke, it was without flourish.
“Harper Crauford,” he said. “Duke of Sedgewick. I am Lord Wilmington's legal beneficiary, which means this house, and its estate, and its affairs…including, I am afraid, the both of you…are now under my care.”
Temperance looked at the Duke of Sedgewick, and a stunned silence fell between them.
Someone had finally made a claim to their inheritance.
Over the last two years, she had tried carefully not to think about this moment, had not let herself dwell on it, had told herself with great practicality that when it came, she would manage it, and there was no use worrying about it until it arrived.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I don’t recall stuttering,” the duke replied, “you heard me correctly.”
“I have never seen you before in my life,” Temperance said. Though it already felt as though she was losing the argument.
She did not know much about this man, but there was something in the manner in which he spoke that left little room for doubt. It was a subtle thing, but Temperance had always been observant.
The duke raised his eyebrows at her.
“My point is,” Temperance said, both surprised and irked by the little flush his gesture had caused, “how are you the heir?”
“Not by blood,” the duke explained. “Your father and I were long term business partners, and he left his estate to me in the event of his death. Which, as you know, as happened. As for the title, that has been returned to the crown.”
“And how do I know that you were not telling me a lie?”
“I have no incentive to lie to you,” he scoffed, as though she had insulted him.
“But…” Temperance felt herself growing frustrated. How was it even possible that this strange man had just walked in and laid claim to everything that they had?
Surely, the law could not be so cruel. Even if her father could be.
“There are no buts,” he cut her off swiftly. “I have the legal documentation to prove my claims, should you be interested.”
“How is it possible that left you as the heir when I have never heard of you before?” she went on, repeating herself.
The duke shrugged.
“I suppose we would have to resurrect him from the dead to find his reasoning. But he had always expressed a disdain towards women being left in charge of anything, and we had a… working relationship.”
Temperance felt her cheeks heat.
Oh.
That would make a lot of sense, as her father had always resented her and her mother. As a final blow to them, no wonder he left his inheritance to a stranger.
“And all of this is allowed?” she asked.
“Allowed by whom exactly?” the duke asked. If he was growing impatient with her questioning, he had not shown it yet.
“The crown, the… well, the authorities and…”
“As I said, I have documentation to prove everything,” he shrugged.
“Besides, this is not one of those tales where I am trying to fleece some poor women out of their inheritance. My title and estate preceding this inheritance are vast, and I have no need for any of this. And as I said, as you both are in my care now, I shall make sure that you are provided for.”
Huh.
Temperance could feel her cheeks heat up with anguish. How was any of this fair? Or legal?
But she understood that there would be no use getting angry in front of this man.
“How lovely,” she said. “We will speak in the morning, then. Goodnight, Your Grace.”
It was something that she had learned in life. It was better to not give a reaction than to give one that could be used against you in the future.
She reached down and scooped Soot from the floor and walked back toward the drawing room without waiting for his response. Behind her, she heard nothing.
He did not know what to make of her reaction.
Good. Let him wonder.
She had the distinct and unsettling feeling that she was going to need every advantage she could get.
Albina was exactly where she had left her, in the armchair with her tea, Biscuit’s head now relocated to her lap, which he had apparently decided was a better option than the settee. She looked up when Temperance came in and read her face with the immediate accuracy she always had.
“What happened?” she said.
“The heir is here,” Temperance said.
Albina looked at her.
“He arrived this evening,” Temperance said. “He is in the hallway.” She sat down in her chair, set Soot on her lap, and looked at her mother. “He has a son. The boy was in the garden. He was the one who found Soot.”
Albina was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “What is he like?”
“The boy is perfectly pleasant,” Temperance said. “Covered in mud and entirely unapologetic about it, which I found I did not mind.”
“I meant the heir,” Albina said.
Temperance looked at Soot. “Tall,” she said. “Very sure of himself. He has documentation.”
“Of course he does,” Albina said, in the tone of a woman who had expected nothing less from the universe.
“He says Father left everything to him as a business arrangement,” Temperance said.
“He says we are in his care now and that he intends to provide for us.” She said the last part with the flatness it deserved, and Albina received it with a slight tightening around her eyes that was the closest she came to expressing something she had decided not to express.
“Well,” Albina said.
“Yes,” Temperance agreed.
They sat with it for a moment. Biscuit shifted on Albina’s lap and made a sound of mild complaint, and she put her hand on him absently.
“Did he seem cruel?” Albina asked.
Temperance thought about it honestly. “No,” she said. “He seemed certain. Which is its own kind of difficult.”
Albina nodded slowly. “And the boy,” she said. “How old?”
“Nine or ten, I think. He has his father’s eyes.” She paused. “He asked about the dogs.”
Something softened in Albina’s expression at that. “Did he.”
“He seemed to find the number of them surprising,” Temperance said. “I had the impression he was not used to animals in the house.”
“Then he has a great deal to learn,” Albina said, and there was something almost fond in her voice, which was entirely typical of her mother, who had always found it easier to extend warmth to strangers than most people managed with their closest friends.
Temperance looked at her. “Are you not concerned?”
“Of course I am concerned,” Albina said pleasantly. “I am simply choosing not to show it this evening, as there is nothing useful to be done about it tonight and I would rather finish my tea.” She picked up her cup. “We will deal with him in the morning.”
“He wants to speak tomorrow,” Temperance said.
“Then we will speak tomorrow,” Albina said. “Tonight, he can find his own way around.” She looked at Temperance over the rim of her cup with the steady, unhurried expression she had when she was being more serious than she appeared. “Are you all right?”
Temperance looked at the fire. At the dogs and the teacups and the room that was theirs, that had been theirs, that she had spent three years making into something that felt like home.
“I will be,” she said.