Olivia appeared at his side and dropped into a curtsey. “Good evening, Your Grace. We did not anticipate the pleasure of your company.”
His mother sniffed. “Well, if you are here, Lady Allen, it must mean my darling granddaughter is about socializing with her suitors. Excellent. I would like to meet the young men who have been selected as candidates. To confirm for myself that they are suitable.”
It could not possibly get any worse.
Olivia curled her fingers around his arm and uttered a soft, “Oh, no.”
“What is it?” he whispered. Then he spotted his daughter and Dawson in the hallway and realized that he had been wrong.
It could absolutely get worse.
Constance moved toward him, apparently unconcerned with how Dawson had exploded with anger only minutes before. It was as if the scenario in the park were repeating, except this time, Dawson was the clear winner and Mr. Ringwell was nowhere to be seen.
When he found the boy, he would have some harsh words to share.
His mother spotted Constance, and he was forced to trail behind as the duchess stalked toward her granddaughter, an unavoidable force. In any other circumstance, the terrified look on Dawson’s face when he spotted who was heading toward him might have been entertaining. Unfortunately, Thel did not have time to relish the moment.
“G-Grandmother,” Constance said, clutching Dawson’s arm. “What are you doing here?”
The duchess folded her arms. “I came to assess your progress regarding your suitors. Do you have a favorite?”
Constance paled. “Well, yes, I suppose.”
The duchess switched her attention to Dawson. “And who might you be?”
“This is Mr. Dawson,” Constance said.
He gave a deep bow. “Your Grace, it is an honor to meet you.”
The duchess narrowed her eyes. “What is your relationship with my granddaughter, Mr. Dawson?”
Thel felt as if he were watching a carriage accident in slow motion. He could do nothing but watch as Dawson brought Thel’s carefully laid plans crashing down.
“We are betrothed, Your Grace.”
“Indeed?” the duchess asked, lifting her eyebrows. Then she turned to face Thel. “How curious that I am hearing about this for the first time.”
He tugged at his cravat. “It’s rather complicated.”
His mother drew herself up. “I think not. Mr. Dawson, I would be pleased if you would join us for dinner tomorrow night. I am certain the rest of the family would be eager to meet you.”
Dawson bowed. “It would be my honor, Your Grace.”
The duchess swished her skirts and made for the receiving room. Before the day was out, every member of his household would know that Thel had hidden Constance’s engagement from them. The fracture lines that had formed the day he had refused Felix’s request to use Constance as part of a business deal would deepen, and soon the family he had fought so hard to unify would fall to pieces.
He felt like Odysseus caught between the six-headed monster Scylla and the whirlpool of Charybdis. He either allowed Constance to marry Dawson, or obeyed the will of his brothers and allowed her to be married off to a stranger.
He couldn’t do it. No matter which he chose, he would lose his daughter, perhaps forever. There had to be some other option, some possibility he’d not yet considered that would not lead to the fracture of his family.
He wouldn’t give up until he’d found it.
###
Olivia slumped over Thel’s desk, letting her arms splay over the edges. She had come to his house that afternoon with all her husband’s letters in tow, determined to search through them for the slightest reference of a mistress. But even the letters he’d written to his own family had included no mention of marital transgressions. If she hadn’t been well acquainted with her husband’s insufferable tendency to keep every scrap of paperhe put a pen to, she would have suspected him to have burned the letters that contained the information she needed.
“It’s time,” Thel said. “Mr. Dawson will be here shortly.”
She groaned. “It is too late. I am deceased. Please continue without me.”
