Chapter 24

"You!" Dorothy managed to say, struggling to make sense of Lauren's appearance right here and now, at this hour, and after all she had since learned of the Talbot family.

Aside from traders pushing barrows or driving carts towards pitches and marketplaces, the park and surrounding streets were empty. The besuited young men of the middle classes who would later be striding towards offices and shops were still at their breakfasts, while most of those in society's highest echelons were likely still in bed.

"Shall we walk together, Dorothy?" Lauren suggested, coming to Dorothy's side and attempting to take her arm, as she often did on previous walks in the park.

Instinctively, Dorothy pulled back and shook off the other woman's hand, causing Lauren to frown and shrug.

"Have I offended you in some way, Your Grace? I apologize if that is the case. Otherwise, I suppose that now that you are a duchess, quite naturally you might wish less familiarity with old acquaintances. Do forgive us while we adjust to your new station."

While lightly spoken, these words cut Dorothy to the quick. She always prided herself on being different from her brother and judging people by their personal worth as much as their rank and title.

"It is not that at all," she said uneasily, conscious that with very little effort, Lauren already had her on the defensive. "I do not care for such conventions."

"Then why will you not walk with me?" Lauren asked, extending her arm again, somehow having made any rebuff into an open display of snobbery.

How could Dorothy refuse? She knew she could not. Perhaps it was even for the best to have this opportunity to talk, a chance to bring everything out into the open, even if today must be the last day of their old friendship

"Very well, let us walk," she relented, with a slow nod, this time allowing Lauren to take her arm.

Cautiously, as she gathered her thoughts, they slowly walked down a pedestrian path while the carriage continued in parallel a little ahead of them on the main driveway.

"Why did you leave so quickly when the Dowager Duchess fainted, Lauren? She might have been quite ill, and yet you offered no assistance."

Lauren sighed at the question that was really an accusation. To her credit, she made no attempt to deny Dorothy's words.

"After the Duke's reaction to seeing me, I did not imagine my presence would be any more welcomed by his mother. I feared it could even be more injurious to her health than my speedy departure. I had hoped that they would not judge me by my family's wrongs, but I hoped for too much. I see that now."

Disarmed, Dorothy racked her brains for how to proceed. She could have dealt more easily with an angry and insulted Lauren, a lying and hypocritical Lauren, or a weeping and apologetic Lauren. But this calm acceptance of her ill-behavior, and her family's injuries to the Clarks, was hard to fault or dispute.

"Are you telling me that Aaron should not judge you as complicit in your father and brother's wrongdoings? He remembers you well from his childhood—well but not fondly."

"I was a child," Lauren said quietly. "I did as my father instructed in all things, including my dealings with your husband. I know that some of these actions were wrong, but I cannot undo the past. I can only say that the woman I am today is not the girl I was back then. I hoped the Duke would see at least that much and give me a chance."

"Aaron cannot forgive you," Dorothy told her former friend. "He can forgive no one from your family. Having heard his story, and met the Dowager Duchess, I'm not sure I blame him. Some injuries do not heal."

Lauren only bowed her head and nodded soberly. If it was an act, it was a perfect one, and Miss Talbot could have taken the place of any of the greatest actresses on the London stage.

"I can expect nothing else and will not criticize him for that. However, I hope in time that his feelings might change. My brother called on yours yesterday evening, incidentally. I hope you and I might maintain our connection indirectly through that friendship, even if I cannot expect to be welcomed in your home."

"What?" Dorothy blurted out, confused by this sudden mention of Patrick. "Your brother is friends with Patrick?"

"George is very interested in Mr. Hoskins' latest investment scheme." Lauren shrugged, as though such things were as tiresome to her as they were to Dorothy. "My brother's little syndicate is going to take the place of the Duke of Dawford in the scheme. I supposed that news might gladden you, given your row with your brother."

Dorothy stiffened. She was sure she had never spoken to Lauren of Patrick's latest scheme, never mind her brother's wrong-headed efforts to recruit Aaron or the fact that she and Patrick had argued about it. She could only assume that George Talbot must have gotten the details from her indiscrete sibling and then passed them onto his sister.

"Why, yes… I would be glad to never hear of Patrick's schemes again," Dorothy stammered out, increasingly unsure where this conversation was going or why.

"I thought as much," Lauren said. "Mr Hoskins' hopes to involve his brother-in-law were misplaced, I feel."

It would certainly be a relief in Dorothy's married life if Patrick found alternative partners for his scheme and ceased pursuing Aaron's backing. On the other hand, Aaron's stories indicated that involvement with any of the Talbots could surely lead to nothing good for Patrick…

"Patrick does not understand Aaron," Dorothy commented.

"No, but I do," Lauren said with a sad smile. "Let George's contribution to the project be my parting gift to you, since our friendship clearly cannot continue on its old terms."

"Can your brother be trusted?" Dorothy asked bluntly, unable to stop thinking of Aaron's account of Lord Frampton's various deceptions and predations around the ton. "You already spoke of your father forcing you into unworthy actions as children. You might now recognize the truth, but does Mr. Talbot?"

"Can your brother be trusted?" Lauren countered, throwing up her hands in smiling despair at the question that Dorothy could not answer with complete conviction. "What can any of us poor women make of our menfolk? George is admittedly overfond of gold and success, but what ambitious young man is not? Especially when they hope to make a good match."

"George and Patrick sound like they have a great deal in common," Dorothy conceded, feeling that there was little more she could say or do in this matter.

She had already warned her brother as far as she could, and he had evidently chosen to ignore her yet again…

"But no, George is not my father," Lauren added, filling a lengthy pause between them. "As I suppose that was your real question. They do not do business together. I wish I could distance myself from the past as thoroughly as George has done, but until I marry, I must remain with my parents."

While she had begun their walk feeling wary and resentful of Lauren, Dorothy now found herself feeling pity and compassion for the woman despite the continued flashes of warning from her rational mind.

Like many other young women, Lauren was tied to the fortune and behavior of her family, especially its men. They both knew that past history made it impossible for their friendship to continue as before, but Dorothy hoped that they could at least part on good terms.

"You have been a good friend to me, Lauren. I am sorry to lose that friendship, but it's inevitable, I fear."

"Yes," Lauren agreed with a sigh of resignation. "I see that too. But as a final parting gift, might I offer you breakfast?"

"It is a kind thought, but none of the teashops will be open yet. It can't be much after seven o'clock."

"Mother and I are staying at an old aunt's house this Season. It isn't far from here by coach. She is at home and would not object to your calling so early, but she always takes breakfast in her room, and it will only be the two of us."

Dorothy hesitated, sensing Aaron's likely reaction to even a goodbye breakfast with the daughter of his greatest enemy. But then she felt a surge of resentment too. What right had he to judge her? Or to judge Lauren? Did he really think women were no more than extensions of the men in their lives?

For Aaron's sake, and on the strength of his stories, Dorothy was prepared to cut off her old friend. In return, one final breakfast was very little to ask.

"Yes, let us do that," Dorothy said and saw Lauren smile in real relief, her company apparently genuinely desired that morning.

Dorothy realized she had not asked Lauren what had brought her out to the park so early but imagined some domestic row of her own, perhaps even relating to their friendship. It was possible that Lord and Lady Frampton were no happier about their daughter consorting with their old enemy's wife than Aaron had been to see Lauren in his home.

"Let us have a fine breakfast and not talk any more about all these foolish men," Dorothy said. "I have no desire to speak to Aaron or Patrick today, and perhaps even as long as I live."

"Very well, no men in our breakfast conversation," Lauren agreed with a laugh. "We can talk of books, music and plays like the intelligent women we are."

Taking Dorothy's arm again and squeezing it, the blonde woman led them back towards the waiting carriage.

Aaron banged the brass fish knocker hard for a second time, having already rung the bell at the Hoskins' front door.

The door was opened by a confused-looking manservant, evidently expecting no guests at such an early hour of the day.

"Is Mr. Hoskins at home?" Aaron demanded. "I must speak with him urgently."

"Mr. Hoskins and Lord Prouton are still dressing, Your Grace. May I show you into the drawing room until Mr. Hoskins can attend you?"

"Is my wife here?"

"Your wife?" The manservant frowned.

"Yes, my wife," Aaron repeated impatiently. "Dorothy, Duchess of Dawford. The only wife I have. Until very recently, Miss Dorothy Hoskins of this very household…"

"Your Grace," a slightly groggy voice said from the stairs, and Aaron looked up to see Patrick descending, adjusting a hastily donned stock and waistcoat and smoothing his hair as he went. "You were not expected. Do excuse our disarray. Won't you come into the drawing room? Or would you join me for breakfast? I'm not hungry myself, but don't let that stop you…"

The man looked rough, even given the early hour. From the circles beneath his eyes and pallor of his skin, Aaron guessed that Hoskins had been drinking last night and would have kept to his bed rather longer if no one had banged on his front door.

"Where's Dorothy?" Aaron repeated his bald question as the unhelpful manservant blended quietly into the background.

"Dorothy? Why, is she not at home with you? My sister is certainly not here. Frankly, Your Grace, after her words to me yesterday afternoon, she would not be welcome back in this house without an apology."

Aaron exhaled with frustration and regret, Hoskins' words reminding him of his own foolish anger that had sent Dorothy fleeing into the London dawn alone. Hoskins seemed to mistake his reaction for astonishment.

"I am not surprised to find that Dorothy did not tell you of her behavior. I have never been so insulted, and by my own sister! I had only made a simple request, as any man might, that she could help to build bridges between you and I, Your Grace."

"Oh, your investment scheme." Aaron nodded with irritation, having completely put that nonsense out of his mind until Patrick reminded him, and hoping he wasn't going to be treated to a sales pitch right now.

"Yes, although you needn't trouble yourself over, it after all. As of last night, I have a new syndicate backing my scheme, and I believe all the pieces are in place to make a real success of the venture. George Talbot said that?—"

"George Talbot?!" Aaron questioned sharply, his hackles rising at the very mention of that cursed name.

"Yes, do you know him? Very good chap. Called on me last night to offer to bring in his syndicate, and after a decanter or two of port, I think we reached an understanding…"

"Talbot is a swindler, the son of a worse swindler crook and conman?—"

"Steady on!" Patrick interjected uneasily at Aaron's impassioned outburst.

"Did you do no due diligence on this man and his associates before you reached this understanding you speak of so easily?"

"George Talbot is a member of Whites, as is Lord Frampton," Hoskins stuttered.

Aaron let out a scornful laugh at this ridiculous assertion that showed Hoskins entirely for the fool he was.

"I understand them to be gentlemen of honor," the stupid man persisted.

"Understand this, Hoskins, and tell your father too—if you're in partnership with the Talbot family in any way, shape or form, you are dead to me and to my wife. You will deserve whatever comes to you at their hands."

Aaron looked down upon the ashen-faced, sweating and utterly astounded Patrick Hoskins for a long moment and then turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him.

As he walked back to Dawford House, he found that he was shaking with outrage at the nerve of the Talbot family. If Hoskins really were ignorant enough to be conned by the Talbots, he would deserve it. If he had knowingly entered a partnership with them in order to con others, he was even more despicable than Aaron had suspected.

But to hell with Patrick Hoskins. The most important thing for him was to find Dorothy as soon as possible, make sure she was safe, and apologize for his behavior yesterday. He would ask Miss Hughes' advice on where an angry young lady might go at an early hour.

Toynton was waiting in the hallway for him and opened the front door as soon as Aaron walked up the steps. His expression was uncharacteristically troubled, and he held a sealed letter in his hand.

"This came for you a few minutes ago, Your Grace. The messenger boy said it was extremely urgent, but he ran off before I could ask him anything further."

Bemused, Aaron turned the missive over in his hands, not recognizing either the handwriting or the plain seal that had been used. He broke the seal without further delay and read through the letter.

"Good God!" he said aloud as he read the contents.

"Your Grace? Should I order your carriage? Or ready a servant to take your reply?"

Aaron swore and paced the hall, the letter in one hand and the other running through his hair.

"Your Grace? What is it?" Toynton pressed. "May I be of assistance?"

Aaron looked at the anxious butler, scarcely able to force an answer out of his tightening throat.

"It is a ransom note…"