A gentleman in a brown coat edged past them with a murmured "Pardon me" and reached for a volume on the shelf behind Thea's head.
They both went silent until he'd moved on, and Estella used the pause to pretend great interest in the spine of a book on sheep husbandry.
"And how do you see him?" Thea asked.
Estella turned and opened her mouth. When she couldn’t figure out how to answer that, she said instead, "What does that matter? Lord Alderton is the potential suitor."
Thea’s brow furrowed. She looked at Estella as though she were trying to figure out a riddle. "You do realize that in all this time you’ve been speaking of the two men, you’ve spent a very small fraction talking about this potential suitor."
Estella opened her mouth to protest, but Thea lifted a hand to stop her. "And in that brief time, your voice was level, your cheeks their normal hue, and your general demeanor calm and—dare I say it—uninterested."
Estella blinked a few times. Was that true? Yes. Undoubtedly.
Drat.
"But when you were speaking about the marquess, on the other hand…" Thea trailed off.
Estella’s cheeks burned so hot, she had no doubt she’d turned scarlet. She didn’t need Thea to spell it out. She’d been here. She’d heard herself growing louder, her voice higher with passion. And what was more, she knew very well how her heart had hammered. But even so…
"That doesn't mean anything," she said.
Thea raised an eyebrow. And that eyebrow was capable of conveying more skepticism than most people could manage with a full paragraph.
Estella looked down at the index page she'd been not-reading. "Alderton is lovely, and he listens, and he's kind. But Sebastian— Oh, I don’t know." She stopped and shook her head. "It doesn't matter. He's made it very clear this is about obligation."
"Has he?" Thea leaned against the bookshelf. "Or has he made it very clear that he wants you to believe it's about obligation? Those are rather different things."
Estella went still. Part of her wanted to argue. She wanted to say that she’d clearly been reading too much into a single look and an old nickname spoken in the rain.
But another part of her very much wanted Thea to be right.
She took a deep, steadying breath, but her mind and heart continued to waver.
Thea’s gaze softened. "Could that be it?"
Estella pursed her lips. Yes? No. Maybe?
Truth be told, Thea was voicing the suspicion that had been growing inside her like a vine, threading through every interaction with Sebastian until she could no longer tell where observation ended and hope began.
"There's something else," Estella said. "Something I haven't told you."
Thea’s lips curved up at the corners. "There’s more?"
Estella told Thea about the milliner's bill. About Mr. Phelps and his sudden departure for Cornwall. About Mr. Ashby's surprise inheritance, and the squire's son who stopped calling. She even found herself babbling about the kitchen funds that appeared and disappeared and then reappeared again, and the household accounts that occasionally balanced when they had no right to.
Thea listened without interrupting. When Estella finished, Thea's expression had shifted from curiosity to focused intensity. "Someone's been managing your family's affairs."
Estella nodded. It was no use denying it any longer. One odd circumstance here and there was one thing, but saying it aloud, and hearing them all together left little doubt that there was someone behind it all.
Thea cocked her head to the side. "And you don't know who."
"I've asked everyone I can think of. My father either doesn't know or won't say. The bills were mostly settled in the country through intermediaries, so I can't trace them from London."
Thea was quiet for a moment, her fingers drumming against the spine of a book. "Who has the means? They’d need a significant fortune and access to solicitors, I’d imagine."
Estella huffed. "Half the peerage, theoretically."
"But who has the motive? Who would care enough about an impoverished viscount's family to spend years quietly settling debts and removing unsuitable suitors?"
