Page 57 of The Duke’s Hidden Duchess

My enquiries have established the reason nothing appeared in print upon the Friday named in Mr Rowland’s threat. It would be unsafe to conclude from that silence that he abandoned his purpose.

Fair copies have been made of Lady G.’s correspondence. The originals remain in Rowland’s possession, but copies have been offered, through an intermediary, to a printer in London. The proposal is not for a paragraph or anonymous notice, but for the correspondence at greater length, with the lady’s identity made plain.

I have further reason to believe that publication has been connected to the maturity of Lord Merrow’s principal note against Rowland. By my present reckoning, that obligation falls due within the fortnight.

I cannot yet say whether the printer has accepted the arrangement upon final terms, nor whether type has been set. My information is that negotiations have advanced sufficiently far that delay would be unwise.

This may also explain Mr Rowland’s removal into Berkshire. If Lord Merrow has made relief from the debt conditional upon success against Your Grace’s household, Rowland now has considerably less freedom than his earlier conduct suggested.

I am continuing my enquiries into the printer and intermediary. I advise against approaching either gentleman until I can establish how far the publication has advanced.

I await Your Grace’s instruction.

Your obedient servant,

J. Sowerby

Nathaniel read the letter again.

So Friday had not settled the matter. Rowland had not published, but neither had he relinquished the letters. He had changed the form of the threat and, if Sowerby was correct, tied it to a debt now approaching maturity.

That gave yesterday’s quarrel at the Wexford Arms a different significance.

Money. Results. Your assurances.

Giles leaving without his hat.

Nathaniel folded the report along its crease.

The anger came readily. It always did. For one instant he saw Rowland at the inn, Giles opposite him, Georgiana’s letters passing between them as though they were counters upon a gaming table.

His bandaged hand tightened around the paper.

Pain answered from his knuckles.

Nathaniel opened his fingers again.

He did not strike anything.

Instead, he called Bassett back.

“See that the messenger is fed and given a bed. He does not return tonight.”

“Very good, Your Grace.”

“And have his journey put upon my account.”

Bassett inclined his head.

“What of the horse, Your Grace?”

“If it belongs to the post, see that the proper arrangements are made. If he rode the last stage upon his own, have it walked, rubbed down and fed.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The household stirred briefly around the unexpected arrival: boots in the passage, a kitchen door opening, quiet voices, the movement of a lantern across the yard. Nathaniel remained in the hall with Sowerby’s letter in his hand until the sounds diminished again.

The facts were still incomplete, but they were facts.