I sighed. “You had almost convinced me to forgive you until you brought up my wedding again. At least we are home and together. Mama would be happy about that.”
“You are wrong,” he said. “She would scold us both for days. Father would be the happy one, ensconced in his study where he did not have to hear it.”
I snorted, and we both burst into laughter.
Atlas
“This is madness.” If only numbers could lie. The bankbook in front of me listed line after line of altered money exchanges. After over a week of visiting various banks and reviewing my assets, I had found Briggs’s handiwork everywhere.
“I agree, my lord,” Mr. Arden said, his tone full of sympathy. My new solicitor was a smiley man with a bulbous nose and absolutely no hair. His warm demeanor had been so opposite to Briggs, that after followingup on his past employers and hearing their glowing reviews, I had hired him forthwith.
Mr. Arden tapped my bankbook with his pen. “Thankfully, Mr. Briggs only touched your investment money, and your assets are largely intact.”
It was more than the money. Briggs’s deception felt personal.
“As frustrated as I am, you are right, Mr. Arden. There is much to be thankful for.” I closed the bankbook and handed it back to him. “I appreciate your time this morning, but I must take my leave. I have a few other matters to see to while I am in town.” Pushing back my chair, I stood.
“Good day to you, your lordship.”
I left Mr. Arden and took a carriage to meet Mr. Gregory. I had written to him the same day Estelle had left, and I prayed he would have news for me. The thought of her lived constantly in my mind. I yearned to see her, to say the words left unspoken, and to hold her in my arms again—never to let go.
Mr. Gregory’s office was a tight rectangle with barely enough room for a desk and two chairs. In the corner sat a stack of bandboxes used for storing hats and gloves and other accessories. Mr. Gregory used them for different means. Papers stuck out under the lids, as they were stuffed to the brim.
“I did not expect to see you here,” Mr. Gregory said. “I sent a letter of my findings more than an hour ago.”
“I have not been home,” I said, dropping into a chair. “What news do you have for me?” I instinctively held my breath. I had waited so long to find Estelle the first time. How could I bear thisprocess again?
He shuffled through his papers haphazardly strewn across his desk, with no known organization. “You’ll be happy to hear that I have found Miss Lowry.”
My shoulders relaxed. “Thank heavens.” I released a long breath.
Mr. Gregory nodded. “It was much easier this time with a real surname to search for. Not to mention you were right about that school chum of yours. They don’t simply share the same surname but are brother and sister.” He handed me a paper with the address he had pulled from underneath a half-eaten sandwich, as if it had been tucked there with purpose.
I took the address with careful fingers. It meant more to me than all the bankbooks I had spent hours poring over. Except, I needed the money if I was going to convince Estelle to marry me. I had promised to reward my rescuer, and I hoped she found sharing a life at Rosemont payment enough.
I thanked Mr. Gregory and hurried back to my carriage. I could hardly wait to tell Augusta that I had found Estelle. She was not one to get upset easily, but she had been despondent without her friend. She worried excessively about her—and so did I. Reginald Lowry had been a good man during our school days together, but he had abandoned his sister. And now, he was going to marry her off to someone she did not care for. If I did not hurry, I would miss my chance to remedy her situation. With everything in me, I wanted to beg her to consider my hand instead.
I loved her. And I hoped, despite all my weaknesses, that she still returned my affection. But before I could leave to find Estelle, I had one last dreaded task. I had to confront Mother and inform her of my decision. It would be no easy discussion. She would never accept an Irish woman as a daughter-in-law.
Chapter 37
Estelle
Two Weeks Later
Isat at my desk and pushed aside my untouched books. I was ready to run back to Rosemont. I worried for Atlas. Did he get my letter? Was he safe? I longed to be with him and Augusta, to hear their voices, and to assure myself that they were well.
Pulling out a sheet of paper, I stared at the blank page. I had written a dozen letters already but had crumpled them up and burned them. Each had contained an insufficient apology too pathetic to send. No matter how hard I tried, nothing expressed my feelings adequately.
Every line felt wrong.
I’m sorry that I cannot return. My brother insists I marry a stranger.
Or worse:
Your mother does not like me.It was right for me to leave.
No matter how I said it, it either evoked anger with my situation or sorrow that I could not have what I wanted. I had only cared for two men in my life—Mr. Long and Atlas—and if my suspicions were right, they were the same person. How could I endure the distance between us?
