“I mean the whispering, the closed-door meetings, the quiet glances between you and Henry. Don’t look so shocked. I may be a man, but I’m not blind. It’s more than just protecting Henry, as your betrothal proves. You’re all up to something, and I don’tthink it stops at this house party. What is it, a matchmaking club?”
She laughed despite herself. “I didn’t think you noticed.”
“Oh, I noticed,” he said with a wink. “But I’ve decided I don’t care. Not if it means we all get a happy ending out of this.”
Her smile faltered slightly. “Let’s hope we all do.”
The dance ended, and they returned to the edge of the room, where Henry stood, speaking to a footman who had just arrived and was whispering something in his ear.
Henry stiffened. Charlotte saw the worry in his eyes.
“What is it?” Charlotte asked urgently, dread coiling in her stomach.
He turned toward her, his tone sharp. “Sir Roger is here. The footmen stopped him before he reached the ballroom. They’ve detained him near the east gallery.”
William nodded. “We anticipated this. I’ll distract your mother, and then we will go and question him.”
Charlotte opened her mouth to offer her help, but before anyone could move, the doors at the far end of the ballroom creaked open.
A tall man stepped into the doorway.
Charlotte didn’t recognize him—he was no one she had seen before, certainly not part of the household staff or any known guest. He stood straight and still, scanning the room with a gaze far too intent for comfort.
“Who is that?” she whispered, instinctively reaching for Henry’s arm.
“I haven’t a clue,” Henry said, looking confused.
“But I have.” The dowager duchess appeared at his side, clutching at her pearls, her face white. So softly her voice was almost imperceptible, she murmured, “It’shim, Henry. Lord have mercy. I thought he was dead.”
CHAPTER 29
The man walkedtoward them with slow, purposeful steps. Henry studied him, his heart a thunderclap in his chest. Every inch of him was alert with an instinctive wariness hard-earned by years of pretending. Pretending not to carry the very secret that now threatened to burst from the shadows.
The man was tall and broad-shouldered, perhaps in his late fifties. His coat was modest but neatly pressed, and though his hair had silvered at the temples, the shade of brown was familiar. His eyes—the color of bark—were bright and searching. There was no trace of anger in his expression. If anything, he looked... hopeful. Eager. Almost afraid.
Henry’s mother turned toward him and gripped his arm just hard enough for him to feel her nails.
“I don’t understand what’s happening.” She sounded more lost than he’d ever heard her before. “I refuse to remain here for this. Whatever it is, it can’t end well.”
Before Henry could say a word, she was gone, sweeping past the crowd in a rustle of silk and jewels, her chin held high even as the color drained from her face and she ran away from the scandal she had helped create, leaving Henry, the victim of it all, to deal with it.
He didn’t stop her.
“Your Grace,” the man said when he reached him, his voice low and unsteady. “I received an invitation, but I wonder now if it was genuine. Might we speak somewhere private?”
Henry swallowed the rising tide of dread and gave a single nod. “Of course.”
He could feel the eyes on them across the room—dozens of guests wondering who the man was and what he wanted of the duke. Curious whispering. Could they see a resemblance between them?
The music hadn’t stopped, and yet the ballroom buzzed with energy that had nothing to do with the next dance. Charlotte stepped forward without a word and took Henry’s arm. Her presence steadied him. William caught his eye and gave the faintest nod before turning toward the musicians, already taking on the responsibility of keeping the party from descending into chaos without needing to be asked.
Henry, Charlotte, and the man—his father—left the ballroom together and made for Henry’s study. Once inside, Henry shut the door and locked it behind them.
He didn’t offer anyone a drink.
He needed his head clear.
The man remained standing, glancing around the office as if it were something holy. “It’s strange,” he murmured. “To be here. I’ve passed this house a hundred times over the years, but never stepped inside.”
