Chapter 28

28

T homas sighed as he read through the legal boundaries of his estate and the Polks'. Border and water disputes between two neighboring estates were not uncommon, given the importance of land and natural resources for agriculture and estate management. These disputes often arose from ambiguities in land titles, inheritance issues, or conflicting uses of natural resources like water.

But the Ashford Estate was an old estate, much older than the Polk estate, and the borders had been well established for centuries. While water could be an issue depending on the weather and climate from year to year, Thomas could not recall ever hearing of these issues from his father. Indeed, natural landmarks partially defined the border on the north of the Ashford Estate, which divided it from the Polk land. While some historical documents were vague, the ones in Thomas's possession were very clear with regard to shared water sources, encroachments, and inheritance and succession.

Thomas could find nothing out of place.

Still, he scurried through the office, looking for something, anything, that would give him some clue as to what might have been happening between his father and the Polk Estate. Rather, why it had happened, as the water and border issues were clearly a ruse.

And what exactly might Jonathan Jameson have to do with it?

As far as Thomas knew, his uncle, the late Pembroke Jameson, had done exceedingly well in the Americas with his investment in gemstone mines. Indeed, Jonathan himself wore a gaudy ring containing a large ruby on his right index finger, and another, this one with sapphires and slightly less gaudy, on the pinky of his left hand. Thomas assumed these stones came from the mines partially owned by Jonathan's family. Or rather Jonathan himself at this point, as his mother and father were both deceased and he was an only child.

So why in God's name would Jonathan be interested in the Ashford Estate and its coffers?

Was it the title he wanted?

And why get Viscount Polk involved?

Unless they weren't involved… Or unknowingly involved.

Thomas scurried around the office again, opening drawer after drawer, pulling leather-bound volumes off the shelves and swishing through the pages, looking for something hidden within. Eventually he stopped replacing the books and simply threw them on the ground once he was done with them.

He'd been led to believe by his own father that Uncle Pem and his family had done well in the Americas. He had no reason to believe otherwise.

He continued going through books and throwing them on the floor until?—

A gasp. "Good Lord, Thomas, what has gotten into you?"

Lily stood in the doorway. Hadn't he locked the door when he came inside? Now he was second-guessing himself. Perhaps he had left the door unlocked when Jonathan and Polk were skulking around. He sighed. Whether he locked it now wouldn't have mattered anyway. Lily still had a skeleton key to the entire mansion. Of course, most ladies wouldn't dream of entering an earl's study without an invitation, but Lily was not most ladies.

Being a duchess hadn't changed her a bit. Not that he would have her any other way.

Lily frowned as she eyed the mess of books littering the floor. "These are Papa's books. Some are antiques, Thomas. You can't treat them like this. Have you gone mad?"

Thomas shook his head and looked at the mess around his feet.

His sister was right. Some of these volumes were quite old, and he may have loosened their bindings to the point that they were irreparable.

He buried his face in his hands. "I just don't understand, Lily. What the hell is going on?"

"I have some news for you," she said. "But first, we need to get some servants in here to clean up this mess."

Thomas shook his head again. "No. I made this mess, and I shall take care of it."

Lily kneeled daintily and picked up a book. "Thomas, this is a copy of the Bible. Seeing the Word of God thrown about would mortify Papa."

Thomas shrugged. He was not nearly as religious as his father was. Still, he wondered if the fires of hell would rain down on him after having treated his father's sacred book in such a horrid matter.

Lily placed the Bible back on the shelf. "Exactly what were you looking for?"

"I don't know. Just a clue. Any kind of clue."

"I think I may have something for you," Lily said.

Thomas raised his eyebrows.

"I just shared an early luncheon with Viscountess Polk."

"Oh?"

"Yes, and she's a dreadful bore, Thomas. But I managed to convince her to try a little of my brandy, and then her lips started flapping like a bird's wings."

"What about?"

"Nothing at first. She knows nothing about how her estate is run."

"I would imagine that's true of most wives, including our own mother."

"Yes, 'tis true," Lily said. "I'm so glad I have a husband who shares with me and respects my intelligence. But in Mummy's case, I don't think it was a lack of respect for her intelligence. I just don't think she had any interest in it."

"Yes, agreed," Thomas said. "But what did you ultimately find out, Lily?"

"I admired the ruby brooch she was wearing," she said. "And she said it was a gift from Jonathan, our cousin."

Thomas dropped his jaw.

"Naturally," Lily continued, "that sparked interest in me. I gushed on and on about it, and I asked if I could borrow it, show it to my jeweler, and perhaps have it re-created."

"Oh? I'm not sure what this has to do with any of—" Thomas stopped, his mind racing.

"I see your mind is going exactly where mine went," Lily said. "The viscountess was good enough to let me borrow the brooch for a brief time, and I was able to ask Mr. Lawson about it."

"I didn't even realize he was here," Thomas said.

"Yes, he travels with Daniel and me on occasion. Especially when we're in the market for gemstones. Daniel compensates him quite well for his troubles."

"I see. What did he say about the brooch?"

Lily took a seat at the chair opposite Thomas's desk. "Mr. Lawson had a look at it, and though he said it was of spectacular quality, it was also counterfeit."

Thomas scratched his chin. "So you mean spectacular quality for a fake?"

"Indeed. He used some chemical—I've no idea what it was—and scraped a bit of the gold plating off the brooch. It is brass, plated with gold. The stones, while they are no doubt beautiful, are decidedly fake."

"So our father's brother didn't do as well as he'd hoped over in the Americas," Thomas said.

"It would seem so. There's no way to check, of course, unless we could find out the exact locations of his so-called investments. Even then, it would require a trip to the Americas, and you know how long that would take."

"It's beginning to come together," Thomas said. "Jonathan wants my earldom. He's not nearly as wealthy as he would have us believe, and he wants the estate for himself." Thomas shook his head. "Thank God you and Rose are taken care of. But what of Mummy?"

"Daniel and I will always take care of Mummy. But Thomas, for the love of God, we're not going to let this happen."

"You don't understand, Lily. If something happens to me , I have no heir. The title will go to Jonathan."

"Then I would advise you to watch your back, Thomas. I shall be watching it for you as well. We cannot tell Mummy any of this. It would only worry her."

Thomas agreed wholeheartedly.

He'd have to get Jonathan to admit something.

He would start with Polk.

The duke's friend couldn't possibly be in on this of his own accord.

Could he?

That would remain to be seen.

* * *

Tricia found herself seated between two different gentlemen at the evening meal, and it was quite a more subtle affair, given that a ball would ensue later in the evening.

The two young gentlemen, Lord Edwin Wimbley and Mr. Burke Lawson, took care of Tricia well, though they weren't quite as attentive as Lord Polk and Mr. Jameson had been the previous evening.

Lord Wimbley was tall and lanky, nice-looking enough, but his hair was pale as wheatgrass, and Tricia preferred dark hair. Mr. Lawson, Tricia found out, was a guest of the Duke and Duchess of Lybrook. A jeweler by trade, he was very handsome as well, and he wore spectacles with wire rims.

Neither of them was as handsome as Lord Polk or Mr. Jameson, but truth be told, Tricia was happy that her seating partners had been manipulated. Her mother was not a fan of either Lord Polk or Mr. Jameson because of their request to both escort her on a stroll.

Despite her enjoyment of Lady Portia's adventures in The Ruby , Tricia found herself agreeing with her mother.

She wished only that Thomas would pay her some attention. She had hardly seen him at all this day.

He seemed very preoccupied when she did catch his eye. He hardly looked over to her at all during the evening meal.

After promising both Lord Wimbley and Mr. Lawson that she would save dances for them, Tricia turned to her dessert, which this evening was a lovely strawberry tart.

Mr. Lawson rose and excused himself, and Tricia was left only with Lord Wimbley, who was the less talkative of the two.

Tricia didn't feel like talking anyway. She looked down the table at her mother, and she found it odd that she and Kat were seated in the same places they were the previous evening.

In fact…

She hadn't thought to look before now, but nearly everyone was seated in the same place they were the previous evening except for Lord Polk and Mr. Jameson.

How very odd.

She turned to Lord Wimbley. "My lord, have you noticed that you seem to be one of the only guests here who is not in the exact same place as they were last evening?"

He cleared his throat. "I hadn't really given it a lot of thought, my lady." He looked around. "But I do believe you're correct."

"Very strange," Tricia said.

"I can't say that I'm overly upset about it," Lord Wimbley said. "You've been delightful company."

"Was your company last evening not adequate?"

"Well, on one side, I was seated next to my mother." He laughed. "And although she's always adequate company, she's not exactly what I was looking for. On my other side was Lady Sarah Keating."

"Yes, Sarah's a friend of mine."

"She's a lovely person," he said. "I'm not fond of her hair color."

"Oh." Tricia wasn't sure what to say about that. She found Sarah's hair color very attractive. "Tell me," she continued, "why do you think you and Mr. Lawson were changed? No one else seems to have been. Did you make it known to the earl that you were unhappy with your seating arrangement?"

"Of course not," Lord Wimbley said. "That would hardly be my place."

"I see. Perhaps Mr. Lawson did."

"I would highly doubt that. A man of his station would not dare."

Tricia resisted rolling her eyes. Mr. Lawson was a well-respected businessman and a guest of the Duke and Duchess, who outranked everyone at this house party. Did Wimbley have any idea that mere years ago, Tricia was beneath Mr. Lawson's station? Nearly beneath the stations of the servants?

Sometimes the whole of the peerage in itself simply irked her. There was no other way to say it.

Tricia looked down the table and saw her mother leaving, which gave her an excuse to part ways. "You've been lovely company, Lord Wimbley, but I see my mother is taking leave with my younger sister. I should join them."

He smiled. "Ready to get beautiful for the ball, I suppose?"

"Of course."

He was more correct that he knew. Women had to change their entire outfit and redo their hair for an evening ball. Tricia's dress for tonight's ball was a deep violet, as opposed to the sapphire blue she wore during the first ball.

Tricia preferred dark colors, even though, once the season formally began in April, most ladies would wear lighter colors. Dark hues suited Tricia much better.

Tricia, along with her mother and her sister, took the stairwell up to their assigned chamber. Lady Clementine excused herself to her own chamber, while Trudy helped Tricia dress for the ball. Katrina sat on the edge of her bed, her eyes wide, watching.

The deep-violet gown's skirt was voluminous and adorned with layers of tulle that rustled softly with each movement. The bodice was exquisitely tailored to accentuate Tricia's slender waist and embellished with delicate lace and tiny shimmering pearls that caught the light with every turn.

Trudy assisted Tricia into her corset first, pulling the strings tight to achieve the fashionable hourglass figure. Tricia stood and held her breath, hating with a passion as purple as the gown itself the constriction she must endure. She fixed her gaze on her reflection in the gilded looking glass. Once the corset was secured, Trudy helped her into the petticoats.

Next came the dress itself. Tricia raised her arms slightly as Trudy lifted the gown over her head, allowing the silk to cascade down around her form. They worked together to settle the fabric properly, ensuring the bodice fit snugly and the skirts flowed elegantly without a single misplaced pleat.

Trudy then fastened the multitude of tiny buttons at the back. With the gown arranged, Trudy attended to Tricia's hair, styling it into an elaborate updo adorned with tiny violets that matched the color of the gown. Each violet was pinned carefully and interspersed with small loops of pearls.

As a final touch, Trudy draped a delicate shawl around Tricia's shoulders, the fine lace trimmed with hints of silver thread that added a subtle sparkle. Tricia's transformation was complete.

"Thank you, Trudy," Tricia said.

Trudy smiled shyly. "You look truly beautiful, my lady. You shall be the belle of the ball."

With a final approving glance at her reflection, Tricia rose from her seat, her confidence buoyed by the knowledge that her appearance was nothing short of exquisite. She was now fully prepared to grace the ball.

She only hoped her beautiful gown and exquisite hairstyle were enough to capture Thomas's attention.