Page 150 of A Modest Independence

A dull flush heated Tom’s neck. “Miss Holloway, I mean.” He endeavored to keep his tone businesslike. “This is all her doing. I was merely there in my capacity as her solicitor.”

Lady Helena exchanged an unreadable glance with her husband before meeting Tom’s eyes once more. “Where is she?”

“In Cairo, if you can believe it.” Giles thrust his hand into his waistcoat and withdrew a folded scrap of paper. “She tasked me with giving you this letter.”

Tom jerked to attention. A letter? When had Jenny given Giles a letter? And, more importantly, what the devil did it say?

Helena cracked open the seal. As she read the missive, a smile brightened her tearstained face. When she’d finished, she folded it back together. After a moment of hesitation, she extended it to Tom. “Would you care to read it?”

He should decline. It would be the gentlemanly thing to do. But he was too hungry for news of Jenny to do anything but take it.

As Giles and Lady Helena made their way up the steps, Giles introducing his sister to Hossein and Thornhill ordering the servants about, Tom trailed behind them, opening Jenny’s letter and devouring it in one go.

My dearest Helena,

Against your wishes, I have decided to remain abroad for a time. But I trust you won’t be too unhappy with my decision, for I have sent you a gift in care of Mr. Finchley that I think will please you beyond measure.

To that end, you should know who was ultimately responsible for returning your brother to you. Mr. Finchley will doubtless say it was I who found Giles. The truth is, it was my manservant, Ahmad Malik, who discovered the vital clue that led us to Darjeeling and it is to him you should convey a reward—if reward there be.

By the by, Mr. Malik has a distinct talent for dressmaking. I do believe, if set up in his own London establishment, he could one day rival Charles Frederick Worth. Do consider it, Helena. I believe Mr. Malik and his cousin, Mira, are worth the investment.

As for me, I shall be content here for a while. Write to me when you can and I shall do the same. Until then, I remain your friend and most obedient servant,

Jenny

“Well?” Justin’s deep voice startled Tom from his reverie. “What did Miss Holloway write that has you looking so miserable?”

Tom scowled up at him. “Aren’t you needed inside?”

“Not immediately. Helena will want some time alone with her brother, and he with her.” Justin descended the steps. “Come down to the stables with me. With any luck, we can roust out Neville.”

Tom folded the letter and slipped it into an inner pocket of his coat as he walked alongside Justin down the drive. It curved in a gradually winding slope, leading down past the cliffs.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” Justin asked.

“Not particularly.”

“No? You’ve spent three months traveling with Miss Holloway. Three months alone. Have you nothing to say for yourself on that score?”

“The servants were with us.”

“The Indian servants you described in that first letter you wrote to me? I recognize a fig leaf of decorum when I see it.”

“I’m in love with her.”

“Obviously.” Justin cast him a glance. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Tom Finchley I know.”

Tom sighed. “She needs time on her own. A lifetime, possibly. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“So…you’re just going to give up.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Perhaps I might if you explained it.”