Chapter Nineteen

“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Mr. Seeker. And so early.”

“It’s no trouble, your Grace,” Mr. Seeker answered, lowering himself into the seat opposite William’s desk. “It is very early. And here I was thinking that the members of the ton all slept till noon.”

William gave a tight smile and said nothing.

As if my father would have ever allowed me to sleep a minute past sunrise. My days of longing to sleep in are long gone. I doubt I could sleep till noon even if I wanted to.

Especially not after the debacle of last night. William knew he would have to attend breakfast in a few hours, to smooth over ruffled feelings and calm shocked guests. It was his mother’s duty, but Mary was not the hostess she had once been. Lady Caldecott would do her best, but it was not her responsibility, really.

I wish Kat were here. Or Henry. Alex is no good at all. In fact, I fancy he makes things worse.

Of course, Lord Hamish Grey was gone. He had gone to sleep shortly after being returned to his room, apparently, and was woken in the grey hour before dawn with a carriage waiting for him at the servants’ entrance, his things packed already.

He had gone quietly, as grey as his name, looking sick and miserable. William himself had gotten up to see him off, more to make sure that he really did leave rather than anything else. He wasn’t sure whether Lord Grey remembered the events of last night, but apparently, he remembered enough to cringe in shame.

“I am sorry, your Grace,” he kept saying, hanging his head.

“Least said, soonest mended,” William had responded, voice tight and clipped. “There’ll be repercussions for you, no doubt. Richly deserved, I might add. I don’t wish to resume our acquaintance anytime soon or see you again in the foreseeable future. I cannot stop Alexander spending time with you, but it’s fair to assume that you won’t be invited here again.”

Lord Grey only hung his head again. “I know. And I’m sorry, truly I am.”

William had pointedly said nothing else. Apologies were all very well, and no doubt they were sincere, but apologies were not going to keep the incident out of the scandal sheets.

“Your Grace?” Mr. Seeker prompted, bringing William back to the present.

“I beg your pardon,” he said. “Last night was… eventful. I did not sleep well. In your last letter, you said you had exciting developments?”

“Indeed I did. Now, I intended to make absolutely sure of this before telling you in person, but no matter. I believe I have discovered your L.B.”

William sucked in a breath. “Oh?”

“Yes. Now, I have spent a great deal of time researching the particular ball at which you met this lady and accidentally acquired her locket, but there was nobody answering your description with those initials.”

“But…?”

“But with a little further digging, I learned that there were several ladies and gentlemen in attendance who had not received formal invitations. Visiting relatives and friends, wards, and so on. For example, a lady might receive a formal invitation, which names only herself, and writes back to the hostess to request that she bring a friend, or companion, or ward. Permission is granted, the invitation therefore extended to the newcomer, but there is no formal record of their invitation.”

William bit back a sigh. It was clear that Mr. Seeker was pleased with his cleverness, and it wouldn’t do to rush him to the point and offend him. He was getting further than William himself had managed, at least.

“And?”

“And I found one Lavinia Brookford,” Mr. Seeker finished. “Does the name sound familiar?”

“It does not. I certainly haven’t been introduced to her, and I’ve never heard her name mentioned. Is she a lady?”

“Of that, I’m not sure. I only heard the name from a lady’s maid. She might be Miss, a married woman, or even a governess or companion. I simply do not know, but rest assured, I will find out. Her description seems to answer yours, so I am confident this is the woman, but please, let me confirm my facts.”

William nodded slowly, nibbling his lower lip. “Some good news at last.”

Mr. Seeker nodded, leaning back in his seat. “I fancy that the lady will be impressed and pleased to hear of the lengths you have gone to in order to return her locket.”

William glanced sharply at the man, not sure whether that was a compliment or a subtle insult.

He was well aware that he’d gone too far. Anybody else would have shrugged and tossed the locket in a drawer, ready to be forgotten about. A particularly kind person might have sought out one of the Society Matrons, perhaps an Almack’s patron, and given her the responsibility of seeking out the lady.

Instead, William had gone on a quest to discover the lady’s identity, with a fervour that bordered on obsession. There was really no way to explain to the lady what he’d done to find her without coming across as unhinged. It was increasingly likely that to return the locket, he would have to simply put it in an envelope and have it sent to her with a brief, disinterested note of explanation.

That idea did not sit well with William, and he had no idea why. He had replayed his meeting with the lady – with Lavinia Brookford, who William hoped was a miss – over and over in his head.

Why had she fascinated him so?

“I hope the locket means something to her,” William found himself saying. “I’ll be disappointed if I’ve gone to all this trouble for a necklace she didn’t even realise was missing.”

Mr. Seeker pursed his lips. “I doubt that very much, your Grace. Was that all you wished to discuss? I assume you wish me to continue my efforts?”

“Yes, yes, of course. Thank you for your hard work.”

Mr. Seeker rose gracefully to his feet, bowed, and showed himself out, leaving William sitting by himself in his study.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there. It could have been a few minutes, or much longer – time seemed to slip away from William rapidly these days. He jolted at the sound of footsteps, glancing sharply up.

Mary stood there. She’d chosen to let her hair hang loose around her shoulders, giving her a blowsy, untidy look, and the old-fashioned, ugly white gown she wore seemed almost like a nightgown, and wouldn’t have been out of place on an asylum patient.

William gave himself a shake at the thought of his mother in an asylum.

“Mother,” he said briskly, shuffling some papers to keep his hands busy. “You’re up early. I am rather busy, you know.”

“Don’t you dare be angry with him,” Mary said, gaze fixed on her eldest son.

William’s shuffling hands stilled. “What do you mean?” he asked, voice tight.

“You know what I mean. I am talking about Alex.”

“You mean, the same Alex who brought a drunkard into our home, who smashed a few valuable heirlooms and made your gathering a disaster?” William rapped out, voice tight. “The same Alex who drank half a bottle of brandy last night and collapsed in bed in the early hours? That Alex?”

Mary pressed her thin lips together. “You have always resented him. The others didn’t, but you dislike him.”

“I don’t dislike my brother,” William responded, ignoring the accusation of resentment. “I dislike his lifestyle and his habits, that is all.”

“No, there’s more to it than that,” Mary said, voice absent, almost as if she were talking to herself. “You should not be so cruel.”

William was on his feet before he knew what he was doing.

“I am not cruel, Mother, and I resent that accusation. Do you think I am jealous of Alexander? Is that it? Only you would see anything to envy in him .”

Mary rocked back on her feet. William felt a pang of guilt.

“Alexander is spoiled,” he continued, voice softer. “I am not here to scold you for that, but…”

“I would see you looking at him and me,” Mary interrupted, gaze distant. “When Alex and I would go for walks, or arrange flowers together, or read together. Katherine and Henry didn’t mind, but you were always looking angry. I’d see that tight look on your face and know that you were jealous. I suppose I ought to have done something, but you were always your father’s son. That was the deal we made; I think. I had the youngest, the one that we could afford to spoil, and your father had the eldest. You. He would have been dreadfully angry if I gave you too much attention. Besides, you were never soft and sweet like Alex. You’re hard, William. Hard and serious. There’s a great deal of your father in you – he had a core of steel, too.”

William felt breathless, as if somebody had punched him in the gut.

“How dare you,” he gasped. “How dare you compare me to that man!”

Mary was unmoved. She tilted her head to one side, pale gaze raking her eldest son up and down. She sighed, shaking her head just a little.

“Out of us all, he was most pleased with you, I think. You are his creature, after all. Take care about that, William. And don’t abandon Alexander. If he is to improve his life and leave his harmful habits behind, he will need his family. You have all found your own ways to leave your father behind. You have chosen to imitate him, it seems, but Alexander’s way of coping is far more explosive and dangerous.”

Mary did not wait for a response. She turned on her heel and left the room, slippers slapping on the floor.

William stayed where he was for a moment or two, still feeling winded. His hands were planted flat on his desk, supporting his weight, and he stayed in that position until his shoulders began to ache. Abruptly, his strength deserted him, and he collapsed backwards into his seat. Mary had left the door open, and for a moment, William could do nothing but stare out of the doorway, at the stone wall directly opposite.

From here, he swore he could see faint, smooth curves in the wall, worn away from years of children standing there. That was where they had stood, when they were summoned to their father’s study, generally for punishment. He always kept them waiting for a while, generally an hour or two, and woe betide the child who was found sitting on the floor when the door finally flew open without warning.

So, they would lean against the wall for support, shifting and fidgeting, afraid of what awaited them behind the door.

I am not like him. I’m not. I’m not his creature .

Abruptly, William flew out from behind his desk, diving over to the velvet bell-pull in the corner. He hauled on it and paced up and down in front of the fireplace while he waited impatiently for a response.

When a footman finally answered the summons, William snapped at him immediately.

“I don’t like this room.”

The poor man blinked, bewildered. “I… what do you mean, your Grace? Does it require airing? Dusting, perhaps? The maids were in here only yesterday, but not…”

“No, no,” William interrupted, shaking his head. “I want a different room as my study.”

The man recoiled, as if William had suggested that instead of wearing livery, all the footmen would simply walk around naked.

“But, your Grace, this room has always been the Duke of Dunleigh’s study. For generation. Even your late father had…”

“Yes, yes, I know that! I know that, and I’m telling you I want a different room as my study. Today. Fetch the butler, and some of the other footmen. You’ll need help.”

Looking confused and a little afraid, the footman scurried off to find help. William let out a long breath. He dug into his pocket, feeling the familiar curve of the locket there. He imagined the initials engraved on the pendant. Lavinia Brookford.

I am not like him. I will never be like him. I won’t let it happen. I won’t, I won’t!