Page 130 of A Modest Independence

“We thought the house abandoned,” Jenny said.

“It is, essentially.” Giles motioned for her to sit down. “We’re cultivating new fields down in the valley. The workers and all of the staff have already relocated there.” His gaze cut to Ahmad. “You may join Hossein in the kitchen. He’ll be glad of the help.”

Ahmad looked to Tom.

Tom gave a brief nod. “Shall I go as well?” he asked Jenny quietly. “If you’d prefer privacy…”

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” She glanced at Giles, a little uncertain. “Unless…?”

“It makes no difference to me,” Giles said.

“Very well.” Tom waited until Jenny was seated in a tufted chair by the fireplace before taking a seat himself. Giles hadn’t explicitly invited him to sit, but Tom had a feeling that if he waited for an invitation, he’d be waiting until judgment day.

Jenny arranged her heavy skirts. “Giles…you don’t mean to say this place is yours, do you?”

“No. I don’t own it outright. My own interest amounts to no more than a third. I bought into the venture shortly after regaining my health.” Giles flicked an irritated glance at him. “I trust that nothing I say here today will be used for nefarious purposes.”

“Really, Giles,” Jenny objected.

“Miss Holloway is my client,” Tom said. “I’ll do as she directs me.”

“Your client.” Giles gave a short laugh. “Astounding.”

“I don’t see what’s so astounding about it,” Jenny retorted.

“Since when does a lady’s companion have need of a solicitor?”

“I’m not a lady’s companion any longer. I don’t work for Lady Helena or for anyone else in your family. I’m wholly independent now.”

“Yet, here you are.” Giles contemplated her down the aristocratic length of his nose. “Why are you here, Jenny?”

“I was already coming to India. It seemed a reasonable enough idea to spend some of my time here trying to find out what became of your body after the siege. We’ve been all over the country. To Calcutta and Delhi. To Allahabad and Jhansi. And now, here we are. And here you are.” A notch worked its way between Jenny’s brows. “Heaven’s sake, Giles, I thought we’d be arranging a method for transporting your bones back to the Castleton vault in England. Why on earth didn’t you send word to us? Why didn’t you come home? You’ve no idea the damage you’ve caused by letting the world think you dead.”

Giles’s face lost some of its color. “You mentioned something about Helena and an asylum. Is she—”

“She’s perfectly safe. She’s thriving, in fact. I’ve never seen her happier.”

“You said that she’d married.”

“She did. Last September.”

“To whom? Was it Lord Caraway or the Marquess of—”

“No, no. None of those gentlemen. She married a former army captain. An ex-soldier who served here in India. His name is Justin Thornhill. He has an estate in North Devon.”

Giles’s brow creased. “I’m not familiar with the name. Who are his people?”

“He hasn’t any people,” Jenny said. “None you’d recognize. But he helped to save Helena last year when your uncle was being so ruthless. If not for Mr. Thornhill and Mr. Finchley, I daresay she’d be dead now. Either that or locked away somewhere, beyond all hope.”

He ran a hand over his face. “Good God. Was it… Was it because of me? Because of the money I left her?”

Jenny didn’t answer. Not directly. “She’s fine now, Giles. Truly. It’s all been sorted out. And she’s kept the money safe. She’s always said you would come back one day. That you would need it when you resumed your role as Earl of Castleton.”

“The little fool. Perhaps I should have… But I thought it would be easier…less difficult to bear… A clean break, I thought.” Giles stood from his chair. “Where’s Hossein with that bloody tea?”

Tom exchanged a brief look with Jenny. Her eyes were troubled, her lips compressed into an anxious line. If they’d been alone, he’d have taken her hand. As it was, he could do no more than offer her a faint, reassuring smile.

Hossein entered a moment later with a heavy brass tea tray. Ahmad came in after him, carrying another tray, weighed down with extra cups and a decanter of something that looked to be sherry.