Page 29 of The Duke’s Hidden Duchess

“Possibly. A man who uses private letters as leverage generally wants something more substantial than conversation. We should discover whether he owes money, to whom and how urgently it must be repaid. If money is not his object, those enquiries may reveal what is.”

“And meanwhile, we leave the threat unanswered.”

“For one day. We preserve the letter, speak to Mr Petherick and employ someone discreet to enquire into Rowland’s affairs. Then we answer from knowledge rather than temper.”

Nathaniel remained at the window for several moments.

“You have considered this carefully.”

“I have considered what we know and what we do not. At present, the second list is longer.”

From the doorway, Georgiana said, “And I am to do nothing at all.”

“For today,” Selina said.

“That feels very much like being carried out of the room while the two of you decide what becomes of me.”

Selina’s expression softened. “Then remain in the room. You will hear what Mr Petherick advises, and no answer will be sent without your agreement. But until we know more, you must neither meet Rowland nor write to him.”

Georgiana looked towards the letter at last.

“Doing nothing feels cowardly.”

“Waiting until you understand the danger is not cowardice,” Nathaniel said. “It is discipline. I have lately had cause to learn the difference.”

His sister glanced at him, surprised by the admission.

“Very well. I shall wait. But I wish to be present when we decide.”

“You will be,” Selina said.

Georgiana nodded once and left the room with more composure than she had brought into it.

Nathaniel looked at his wife. She had still not eaten. The toast had gone cold in its rack, and her chair had been turned slightly away from it.

“You have been considering this since last night.”

“I could hear you moving about in the small hours, so I know that I was not the only one awake.” She reached for the coffee pot, found it empty and replaced it. “A sleepless night ought to produce something useful.”

“I shall send for Petherick.”

“And someone capable of making discreet enquiries.”

“Yes.”

Nathaniel picked up Rowland’s letter by its edges.

This time, neither of them mistook immediate action for the same thing as progress.

***

Nathaniel engaged the man that afternoon: a confidential agent named Sowerby, recommended by his solicitor in the guarded language solicitors reserved for people they preferred not to be seen to know.

Sowerby was a small, damp and entirely forgettable man in a brown coat. He resembled a clerk of the third rank in a shipping office, which Nathaniel supposed was the entire purpose of his appearance. He asked few questions, and only useful ones. He accepted the retainer, counted it twice without embarrassment, placed it in an inner pocket and undertook to uncover the structure of Mr Felix Rowland’s finances without disturbing a single brick of it.

Nathaniel gave him a fortnight and privately expected to wait every day of it. Afterwards, he sat in the study for some time with the receipt in his hand, considering that he had paid a stranger to execute his wife’s plan and finding that he minded the fact considerably less than he ought.

He took her to Hyde Park two days later, which was neither investigation nor strategy; or else was strategy of a less comfortable kind.