by Heather Boyd
“I see,” Sinclair said, even as he squinted at Lord Wade’s untidy scrawl. “To Miss Whitney Crewe.”
“I recall you mentioning her before, so I had the butler send a servant round to ask a few questions of his servants. It seems Lord Acton did follow her to the continent, as you surmised, but they have returned together to be married here,” Teddy told him, casting Sinclair a worried glance or two.
Sinclair had been meticulous in confiding in Teddy about his life. Sinclair had suspected too late that something was going on between Whitney Crewe, a woman he’d admired, and Lord Acton last year. But it was only after she’d rejected his advances that Acton had shown clear signs of interest and protectiveness toward the free-spirited artist.
It was a painful lesson that he was meant to remain a bachelor.
The only thing he’d not confided was his history with Kitty. Teddy was so set against taking the title, and making an early marriage, that Sinclair did not want his heir caught up in his own regrets. While he wanted Teddy to learn from his mistakes, he did not want to revisit a past that haunted him still.
He had not done the right thing where Kitty was concerned.
Sinclair handed him the paper. “What the pair does now is hardly my business.”
“Will you acknowledge them?” Teddy asked.
“Teddy, do stop worrying about nonsense.”
“You told me she rejected your affections out of hand. Of course I would worry about how you might feel, seeing the woman again.”
Sinclair sighed. “My delicate sensibilities recovered a long time ago. I had quite forgotten my disappointment over the woman until this moment.”
“Sure you did,” Teddy muttered under his breath as he turned away.
Sinclair balled up the note and tossed it at the back of Teddy’s head. They were alone, and when alone, he did not pretend they were not related or in disagreement about this foolish ruse. “I am going riding.”
“No, you are not, your grace. You are going out in the carriage,” Teddy insisted.
“Why would I do that? I always ride when Parliament is not in session.”
“You promised to do something about Mr. Hunter today.” Teddy glanced back over his shoulder. “Or I will.”
He hid a smile. “May I remind you that servants do not take matters into their hands?”
“Shall we wait until he kills you or just hold back until the first sign of your blood is on the carpets?”
“You really do not have the temperament for this ruse you are engaged in,” Sinclair said with a laugh. He stood, determined to put the matter of Kitty from his mind forever. “So, riding.”
“No. You are calling on Mr. Hunter, and that is final.”
“Teddy, for a false servant, I find you far too opinionated,” Sinclair chided.
“That is why you agreed to humor me in this. I am not going to kiss your ducal backside all the time. Do hurry up and change. It’s a long way to Southwark.”
“Is that where Percy Hunter has gone to live?”
Teddy nodded slowly. “That is what your man discovered yesterday. I will give the coachman the directions, so you do not get yourself lost.”
“If I do, then the duchy will be in good hands with you here. Please run things as you see fit while I am away,” Sinclair threw out cheekily. “Now get out, Teddy, so I can dress. I won’t have you pretending to be my valet, too.”
Teddy shook his head, offering a cheery wave as he sauntered into the adjoining dressing room to speak with the valet. Within an hour, Teddy would most likely be back in his study pretending to dust books while secretly pouring over the plans they were discussing for renovation at Grafton Park, Sinclair’s country seat and Teddy’s future, when no one was looking.
Sinclair sighed. Teddy was a good man, and he understood Sinclair better than he often liked. And Teddy did give good advice occasionally. He would call on Percy Hunter today and, while there, he would ask after Kitty, too. If he did not see her again, he would forever wonder. He’d like to end his life with no regrets.
Kitty was the one woman whose defection had niggled like a splinter in his mind all these years.
One meeting had revived all his questions about their past, his doubts and insecurities, too.
He stood before the fire and, with his valet’s impeccable assistance, dressed in nondescript clothing to call on the brother of the woman he’d always hoped to see again. He’d also speak to Percy and warn him to behave himself, while he was at it.
He noted his carriage today was not his best as he climbed inside, and that his footmen were not wearing their usual livery but were armed. Nothing about his carriage would reveal his identity. The weapons were to protect Sinclair against Percy Hunter, most likely. No doubt Teddy had had a word with his servants about the need to make his trip to Southwark as inconspicuous and as safe as possible.
Teddy was watching from the front study window, and Sinclair acknowledged him before they set off with a wave of his hand.
Teddy was quite determined that Sinclair lived to a ripe old age, thus allowing Teddy to avoid his elevation to the rank of duke for as long as possible. Sinclair pondered the years ahead with increasing agitation all the way to Southwark.
When the carriage finally stopped, he jumped out and strode up to the door pointed out to him. He’d not met with Percy Hunter in many years, and never in this place. The paint was peeling on the door, and the steps could use a good servant to scrub them, he noted. Percy Hunter was a proud man who hardly ever accepted Sinclair’s help or money, but he had always been indifferent to his surroundings. He would never have accepted Sinclair’s help of better lodgings in the city, should he’d ever had a chance to make that offer. Obviously, he still had money to spare to keep a carriage and team of horses, and to toss at least three dozen eggs at Sinclair’s Mayfair home yesterday.
He was greeted by an older woman; the servant’s face was familiar to him, but he could not recall her name. He asked for Percy with a smile bound to win her over.
“He’ll be right with you, your grace,” she murmured before rushing off into the house. He heard her excited chatter and hid a smile. That was usually the way servants reacted to his impromptu calls in any home.
Sinclair paced the little sitting room impatiently, noting the place could use a woman’s touch. He inspected the carriage seats positioned around the fire, wondering if those had been removed from the carriage that had been used to throw eggs at Sinclair’s windows.
He turned as soon as he heard a man’s heavy tread headed toward him.
Percy Hunter, when he strode into the room, had aged well. His eyes were bright and full of amusement. “What an honor, your grace,” he murmured sarcastically as he bowed extravagantly deep, adding a flourish by waving his arm about.
“Oh, stow it,” Sinclair exclaimed as he straightened and strode forward, arms outstretched. “Come here, you old fool! It’s good to see you.”
He embraced Hunter, noting belatedly Hunter’s body was stiff and unbending, and then he stepped back. Hunter blinked as if he did not know what to say in response to his greeting.
Sinclair propelled Percy to what passed for a settee and shoved him down before sitting beside him. “Stop launching eggs at my house with that new contraption you designed. My servants are getting too old for all the cleaning you’re making them do afterward.”
Hunter frowned at him. “Why are you not angry?”
“Oh, I am angry. You didn’t bother to tell me you’d moved to London. I thought you were still conducting your experiments in the country, on the farm you leased when you married your Marianne.”
Percy scowled. “The owner sold the farm.”
“What!”
“Sold it right out from under me without even an apology or notice last year.”
Sinclair frowned severely. “That is not possible.”
Percy bounced to his feet in a distinct huff. “I was unceremoniously booted from my own workshop by four burly
thugs. I made them pay, I promise you.”
Sinclair swore. “The nerve.”
“Exactly what I said. The factor hid like a coward in the carriage, but his message was delivered very clearly. I was told to get out immediately.”
Sinclair kept a tight rein on his temper. Percy Hunter had leased a property from Lord Nells, an acquaintance of Sinclair’s. He had secretly co-leased it with Percy because his friend could never have afforded such a place. He paid the bill for the balance every year, ensuring Percy would never be thrown out, no matter how his finances might fare. The arrangement had been the only way to help Percy and his family live a good life.
Lord Nells had reneged on their deal and kept money he did not deserve.
“I will look into the matter immediately.”
“Do not bother on my behalf. I am happy right here.”
“Well, I am not.” He leaned forward and placed a restraining hand on Percy’s arm. “The reason you had that place was so you could conduct your work in a remote location, largely due to the dangerous nature of your experiments. We did not care what you destroyed there. No one but you and your family were to set foot upon that land so long as you drew breath.”
Percy squinted. “What do you know of my arrangement with Lord Nells?”
“He told me about it once in passing. I gave you a letter of introduction to him, remember,” Sinclair said quickly, realizing he had to be careful what he said. He was in danger of giving himself away. “If Lord Nells gave offense in his actions, or those of his men, he will be held to account.”
Percy blinked. “Thank you.”
“Do not mention it.” He put his hand on his thigh. “Now, what the devil are you doing experimenting with your designs in London, of all places? You could have killed someone yesterday. Probably me.”
“I called out a warning,” he said sullenly. “I wanted to show you that it finally worked right.”
“You could have just written me a letter. I would have come here or anywhere else, without glass having to be broken.”
“Your man at the door did not believe you could be friends with someone like me.” Percy scowled. “We’ve hardly spoken this last two decades, so I guessed we were not friends anymore.”
“Obviously that must change, and it has been only fifteen years since we sat down together, thank you very much.” Sinclair sat back with a sigh. He had not been a good enough friend to Percy if the man could not get past Sinclair’s front door. To make amends, he would move Percy and his work and daughter back out of the city as soon as he possibly could, or perhaps to an entirely different estate, while he dealt with Lord Nells. Sinclair had been remiss in supporting his friend’s modest endeavors.
Percy sank back down, too. “So.”
“So,” Sinclair replied, and then smiled. He’d always liked Percy Hunter. He’d been born on the Berringer estate, a good man from a poor family, but he’d been Sinclair’s only real friend in the world once upon a time. Circumstances and his elevation to the dukedom had curtailed certain aspects of their friendship severely. He regretted that now very much.
Percy scowled at him. “You look disgustingly young.”
“Thank you.” He looked over Percy again, paying particular attention to his limbs. “The years have been kind to me, and it seems like you still have all your digits and feet, too. I was certain you were going to blow yourself up before you reached forty.”
“Please,” he complained. “I knew what I was doing at twenty. I just enjoyed shocking people.”
“Was that what yesterday was all about?” Sinclair asked, and then looked toward the door. The house seemed very quiet. “Getting my attention.”
“Something like that.” Percy scratched his jaw. “How did you find me?”
“One of my men followed you,” he murmured. “I must say, I never imagined you lived here of all places.”
“What is wrong with here?”
“I thought you hated the city.”
“I hate the snobbery of Mayfair and the aristocracy that live there with you.” He glanced away. “I needed work.”
“You should have come to me.”
“I did. Yesterday.”
“I meant a year ago when your troubles started. I could have set you up in a better house if you really want to stay in London with your family.” The quiet of the house confused him. Where were they all this morning? “Is your daughter here? Your sister, too?”
Hunter squinted at him. “How do you know my sister finally came off her high perch to visit London? Have you been spying on her as well?”
“No, of course not,” he said quickly. “You bombarded my house with eggs yesterday. Of course my men spied on you, and saw her, too,” he answered. He would not mention he’d already seen Kitty at Vauxhall Gardens. Hunter might not like that his sister had visited the pleasure gardens, with or without him. He didn’t want to cause trouble for her with her husband, if he did not like it, either. “Will she be back anytime soon?”
“I truly hope not,” Hunter laughed softly. “Very disapproving, my sister. Lady Forbes would never stoop to staying here.”
Sinclair sighed, utterly disappointed that he would not be speaking to Kitty today. He had so hoped to catch her alone for a few moments. Perhaps she and her husband were staying with friends or at a hotel. Had they gone so far as to lease a townhouse? That would denote a much longer stay. He’d try to turn the conversation to find out before he left today. “Has she changed very much, your sister?”
“Not that I could see. Older. Got this mop of silver hair on her head now. Just like our mother in looks. Took me a bit aback. Bit pudgier.”
Sinclair scowled. He remembered curves, but he would never have described Kitty the way her brother did. “That was unkind.”
“She is my sister. I will speak of her how I please.”
Sinclair shook his head. “Try to remember what you say of her out loud can be heard by others. Imagine if someone repeated what you said over dinner. She’d be horribly embarrassed.”
“Would not be the first time,” Percy suggested, looking at Sinclair curiously. “You had an easier time with your sister. Nothing to complain about with her, I am sure.”
“I would not say that,” he admitted with a laugh. “I prefer to remember the good days with my sister and not look back too often.
Percy’s eyes narrowed on his. “Was yours ever disingenuous with her affection? Did she ever pretend to like people when she did not?”
“As much as anyone in society, I suppose,” he admitted, and then Sinclair noticed Percy’s worried expression. “That is an odd question to ask me.”
“Been thinking about the past a lot lately,” Percy admitted, looking away. “I always thought you made the wrong choice approving Ettington.”
“Ettington was her choice, I assure you.” Sinclair smiled, remembering her nervousness that day she’d announced her decision, but then his smile dimmed. So much of her behavior around that time made little sense, though. “I had no idea she was even considering Ettington seriously until she’d accepted his proposal. Told me after the fact, actually, and by then, what could I say to stop her? I cannot complain. Her children are delightful. They have children of their own now. too.”
Percy’s expression grew shuttered. “I always thought she liked us simpler folk.”
“I am sure she did in her own way,” Sinclair promised, not wanting to hurt Percy’s feelings. For a time it had been obvious that Percy had been smitten with his sister. That affection had been unwanted by Susanna. In the end, Susanna had had enough of Percy’s adoring looks and she’d asked Sinclair to find an excuse to send Percy away from the Grafton Park estate. Percy did not need to know she’d done that. He’d rather Percy keep his happy memories of that time.
Percy nodded. “And now she is gone, and the world is the poorer for her absence. You must feel it most of all, being twins.”
“Indeed. Susanna died much too young,” Sinclair mused. “But en
ough of the past. I have an idea. How about you move home again? There is a cottage on the estate that is currently empty, and the land immediately behind can be yours if you want it.”
“What would I want with a fancy house?”
“Well, it has to be better than this. Give it some thought before you dismiss the idea out of hand.” He slapped his hands on his thighs. “Now, you have not said a word about your daughter yet, you know?”
“Felicity,” Percy murmured.
“Yes, of course. I should like to meet Felicity again.”
“What for?”
“Well, the last time it was impossible to have a conversation with her.”
“She was only just born.”
“Exactly.” Sinclair laughed. “I am sure she has a great deal more to say, and no doubt is pretty like her mother was. How old is she now?”
“Old enough for me to reach for my pistol whenever a bachelor asks about her.”
Sinclair laughed softly. “I will send you a second weapon then, something small you can carry discreetly.”
“Do not think I will not use it on you,” Percy warned.
Sinclair choked. “I am much too old for that nonsense now.”
“The great Duke of Exeter, alone still and without an heir. How your father must be turning in his grave that your family’s reign over Grafton Park will end with you.”
“It is something to warm the heart, how he must be suffering,” Sinclair agreed wholeheartedly. The late Duke of Exeter, Sinclair’s father, had been a controlling bastard, full of pride and without a trace of compassion for those of lesser status. Sinclair had fallen far from that tree, thank God. He had always valued the opportunity to hear opinions other than his own, especially Percy’s, and Kitty’s, too.
Percy had been a valuable confidant once. Having Teddy around made him miss what he’d once had with Percy Hunter. Was it possible to reclaim their closer friendship, or was Sinclair too late? He would like to think he was not. “What are you doing for the winter this year?”
“Same as ever. Why?”
“I am having a house party to mark my next birthday. I would like you to come for that, too. The cottage could be very practical.”