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Robert let the silence grow between them. He debated whether to respond but decided against it. He merely nodded. “Thank you. But the reason I’m here is that I wanted to ask if you have a private investigator that you use. I know that someone is feeding Trimble lies, and he’s publishing them.”
The duke shook his head. “I don’t, but my brother-in-law, the Marquess of Pembroke, has a man that he trusts who does that type of work. I can ask him for the man’s name.”
“That would be most beneficial.” Robert stood. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
Southart did the same and extended his hand. “If you ever need anything, I hope you know that you can count on me. I consider us friends.”
When Robert took the duke’s hand for a handshake, the duke shook it but didn’t let go. “And friends look after friends.”
Ash sat at the desk in Robert’s study and pulled out a piece of paper. Last year at Hawk’s Abbey, his brother’s family seat, Ash had started writing his thoughts on land management and the latest agricultural innovations. Each subject was designed to increase yields without depleting the nutrients in the soil. A publisher who had heard what he was writing had offered to publish the work. And indicated the offer came with a significant advance against future sales. It was a singular opportunity to put his knowledge to use. He planned to publish a three-volume treatise on the subject.
But the words weren’t forthcoming today as memories of last night crowded into his thoughts. Ash and Robert had ventured to several men’s clubs, including White’s. Robert had laughed at every one of Ash’s jokes, ensuring that people saw them as still the best of friends. Naturally, Trimble was nowhere to be seen as they made their way from club to club. Hopefully, enough members of Parliament had seen them in the best of moods so that any vile rumors about Ash and Elizabeth should be put to rest.
He thrummed his fingers against the burled maple desktop and regarded the blank sheet of paper. Perhaps he should give up the idea of writing today and go riding. A long bout of exercise would exorcise the demons that swirled through his musings.
A knock sounded on the door, and when he looked up, a footman stood inside with a sheepish look on his face. “Pardon me, Mr. Hawksworth, but Lady Eleanor is demanding to see you.”
Why in the devil was the woman calling on him? She’d been to the house every day this week and never even bothered to acknowledge him even when they were in the same room together.
Ash stood and walked around the desk. “Is Lady Overton available to join us?”
The footman shook his head. “No, sir. She’s gone to the foundling home to spend the day with Mrs. Richmond.”
“Thank you, William. Please show Lady Eleanor in.”
No sooner than the words left his mouth, the woman swept into the room as if she owned the entire bloody mansion. “Hawksworth,” she said curtly.
“Why, Lady Eleanor, what a pleasant surprise.” With an exaggerated bow, he motioned for the woman to come and join him next to the sitting area by the massive fireplace. “There’s a chill in the air. Shall we sit by the fire?”
She hmphed. “I find it a little too warm for that. Let us take a stroll through the garden.”
It wasn’t a question but a demand. By then, Ash was by her side and extended an arm for the woman to take. “Whatever you desire.”
He escorted her through the French doors on the side of the room that led to the formal gardens of Overton House. As soon as he took a breath of the fragrant flowers in bloom, the vise around his chest loosened.
As they descended the stairs to the garden path, Ash slid a side-eyed gaze her way. Eleanor was in a high dudgeon if the scarlet painted on her cheeks was any indication.
Of course, it was difficult to determine whether it was rouge or just heightened color due to her emotions. With her gray dress, black half-boots, and black silk shawl, she appeared to be a nasty spirit ready to make every mortal in the world miserable.
“What do I owe the honor of your visit?” Ash smiled pleasantly, but it didn’t do anything to control the rioting of his heartbeat. Blood hammered in his veins. Eleanor’s demeanor was a sure sign she was here to discuss something unpleasant, and it was definitely not for the singular purpose of vexing him. He purposely slowed his step, thus keeping Eleanor somewhat contained. She seemed to be ready to explode.
With what, he had no idea, but it was a sure wager it had something to do with that bloody gossip sheet.
“You and I need to have an honest conversation,” she sniffed.
“Oh, a tête-à-tête. How charming.” He leaned close and lowered his voice. “I love intrigue.” He pointed to a bench beneath a blooming wisteria tree. “Shall we?”
She nodded and proceeded to sit down. Always the gentleman, he waited for her to settle, then sat next to her.
When she turned to face him, the fire in her eyes caught him off-guard. He could only describe it as pure hatred.
“I’ll come right to the point.” One side of her mouth tilted in a perfect sneer. “I don’t like you. And I never have. You are ruining Overton’s chances to attain the prime minister post.”
Ash had learned long ago that it was best to stay silent, so an adversary spilled all their secrets and admissions. He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes.
She took a deep breath and clutched her reticule as if it were a shield. She was definitely riled and uneasy.
“I know about you. I know that you were in that bedroom the day that I found Robert and Elizabeth together.” The intensity of her stare made something within his chest tighten.
