“Fredrick.”
No sign of recognition emerged in her eyes as she tilted her head. “Thank you for sitting with me and good luck with your wedding.”
Fredrick acknowledged her words with a nod, his heart carrying a multitude of emotions as he followed Roswell out of the room, leaving behind the bittersweet reality of his mother’s condition.
As they walked down the corridor, Roswell remarked, “Mother seemed to take the news well about Emilia.”
“She did, but I am just a stranger to her,” Fredrick said.
“As am I,” Roswell responded. “She didn’t even acknowledge me when I stepped into the room with Father.”
“At least she is still alive.”
“For now, but for how long?” Roswell asked, his tone reflecting the weight of their mother’s fragile state.
Fredrick didn’t want to dwell on the inevitable. The thought of his mother’s eventual passing weighed heavily on him, and he didn’t look forward to that fateful day when their lives would drastically change. The only thing that gave him solace was that Emilia would be by his side and she would be a great comfort to him.
As they stepped out of the townhouse, Mr. Rymer approached Fredrick on the pavement. “Lord Chatsworth,” he greeted. “I was the late Sir Charles’ solicitor and he asked me to deliver this letter once you announced your engagement to Miss Sutherland.”
Fredrick accepted the letter from Mr. Rymer and asked, “What does it say?”
Mr. Rymer shrugged. “I do not know, but Sir Charles was explicit in his instructions. He wrote it shortly before he passed.”
“But how did he know I was going to get engaged to Miss Sutherland?” Fredrick pressed.
“Again, I cannot answer that, but I suspect all the answers that you are seeking are in that letter,” Mr. Rymer said with a tip of his hat. “Good day, my lord.”
Roswell came to stand next to him on the pavement and inquired, “What was that about?”
“I’m not quite sure,” Fredrick admitted before he entered the awaiting coach. As it merged into traffic, he unfolded the letter and read it, scarcely believing the words on the page.
“What does it say?” Roswell asked.
Lowering the paper to his lap, Fredrick replied in disbelief, “This is the precise outcome that Sir Charles had hoped would happen when he made Emilia his heir. He anticipated that I would help her ease into high Society and that we would fall in love.”
“Sir Charles planned the whole thing?”
“Apparently so,” Fredrick remarked. “He wanted me to know that he wholeheartedly gives his blessing and hopes we have a lifetime of happiness.”
Roswell’s eyes held approval. “That was well-played on Sir Charles’ part,” he acknowledged. “I am glad that Emilia helped you face the demons from your past.”
“They are still there, but my burdens seem lighter somehow, as if she is helping to carry the load now,” Fredrick confessed.
“Anette did the same thing for me,” Roswell reflected. “When do you intend to post the banns?”
“Right after we meet with Kendrick.”
Roswell chuckled. “What is the rush?” he joked.
Slipping the letter into his jacket pocket, Fredrick replied, “I would marry Emilia by special license, but I do not wish to bring any scandal to our union.”
“Her ball appeared by all accounts to be a tremendous success. That bodes well for her standing in high Society.”
“That it does,” Fredrick agreed.
It wasn’t long before the coach came to a stop in front of the agency’s headquarters. Stepping onto the weathered pavement, they made their way into the dilapidated building.
A familiar guard met them by the back wall. “I wish you luck,” he said as he opened the door for them. “Kendrick is in a foul mood.”
