for you, my lord. While you were out, Lady Folbroke visited to inform you that she is staying in London. She was quite insistent to know your whereabouts. And I thought it best …’
‘I see.’ His wife had come to town before. And each time he had managed to avoid her. But it was damned awkward, after the events of last night, to think her so close. He reached for the miniature of Emily in its usual evening resting place on the table by the bed, fingering it idly.
‘You had been out for some time, already,’ Hendricks continued. ‘The servants were concerned.’
The voice in Adrian’s head snapped that it was no one’s business what he did with his time. Their concern was nothing more than thinly veiled pity, and the suspicion that he could not be trusted to take care of himself. He held his temper. If one had been carried insensible out of a gin mill, it hardly gave one the right to argue that one was fine on one’s own.
Instead, he said, ‘Thank them for their concern, and thank you as well for your timely intervention. It was appreciated. I will try to be more careful in the future.’ In truth, he would be nothing of the kind. But there was no point in rubbing the man’s nose in the fact.
And then, to make it appear an afterthought, he came back to the matter that concerned him most. ‘But you said Emily is in town. Did you enquire as to the reason for the visit?’
‘She did not say, my lord.’ There was a nervous rustling of the papers in Hendricks’s hands.
‘You saw to the transfer of funds to the working accounts that we discussed after your last visit north?’
‘Yes, my lord. Lady Folbroke inspected the damage from the spring storms, and repairs on the cottages are already underway.’
‘I don’t suppose it is that, then,’ he said, trying not to be apprehensive. The efficiency of his wife was almost legendary. Hendricks had read the report she had written, explaining in detail the extent of the damage, her plans for repair and the budget she envisioned. The signature she’d required from him was little more than a courtesy on her part, to make him feel he was involved in the running of his lands.
But if she had come to London, and more importantly, come looking for him, the matter was likely to be of a much more personal nature. He remarked, as casually as possible, ‘How is she?’
There was such a pause that he wondered if she was not well, or if there were something that they did not wish him to know. And then Hendricks said, ‘She seemed well.’
‘Emily has been on my mind often of late.’ It was probably the guilt. For he could swear that the scent of lemons still lingered in the room so strongly he feared Hendricks must smell it as well. ‘Is there anything at all that she requires? More money, perhaps.’
‘I am certain, if she required it, she would write herself a cheque from the household accounts.’
‘Oh. Clothing, then. Does she shop frequently? I know my mother did. Perhaps she has come to town for that.’
‘She has never complained of a lack,’ he replied, as though the subject were tiresome and devoid of interest to him.
‘Jewellery, then. She has received nothing since our wedding.’
‘If you are interested, perhaps you should ask her yourself.’ Hendricks said this sharply, as though despite his patient nature, he was growing frustrated by the endless questions.
‘And did she mention whether she’d be likely to visit me again?’ The question filled him with both hope and dread, as it always did. For though he would most like to see her again—as though that were even possible—he was not eager to hear what she would say if she learned the truth.
‘I think she made some mention of setting up housekeeping here in London.’ But Hendricks sounded more than unsure. He sounded as though he were keeping a secret from him. Possibly at his wife’s request.
‘Does she visit anyone else that you know of?’ As if he had any right to be jealous, after all this time. But it would make perfect sense if she had found someone to entertain her in his absence. It had been three years. In the time since he’d left she would have blossomed to the prime of womanhood.
‘Not that I know of, my lord. But she did mention your cousin Rupert.’
‘Hmm.’ He took a sip of his tea, trying to appear non-committal. Some would think it mercenary of her. But there was a kind of sense in it, he supposed, if she transferred her interests to the next Earl of Folbroke. When he was gone, she could keep her title, and her home as well. ‘But Rupert.’ he said, unable to keep from voicing his distaste of the man. ‘I know he is family. But I had hoped she would have better taste.’
If he had eyes as strong as his fists, there would be no question of interference from his cousin in that corner. Even blind, he had a mind to give the man a thrashing, next time he came round to the flat. While he might forgive his wife an infidelity, crediting the fault to his own neglect of her, it would not do to let Rupert think she was part of the entail. She deserved better.
Not that she is likely to get it from you …
‘It is not as if she shares the details of her personal life with the servants,’ Hendricks interrupted his reverie. Was that meant as a prod to his conscience for asking questions that only he himself could learn the answers to?
Surely by now Hendricks must have guessed his real reasons for curiosity, and the utter impossibility of talking to Emily himself. ‘It is none of my business either, I am sure. I have no real claim on her.’
‘Other than marriage,’ Hendricks pointed out in a dry tone.
‘Since I have made no effort to be a good husband to her, it seems hypocritical to expect her continued loyalty to me. And if she has a reason to visit me again? If you could give me advance notice of the visit, I would be grateful. It would be better, if a meeting cannot be avoided, that it be prepared for.’ On both sides. She deserved warning as well. He was in no condition, either physical or mental, to meet with her now.
‘Very good, my lord.’ Adrian could sense a lessening of the tension in the man beside the bed at the mention of even a possibility of a meeting. Acting as a go-between for them had been hard on his friend.
But now Hendricks was shifting again, as though there was some fresh problem. ‘Is there some other news that brings you here?’ he asked.
‘The post has come,’ Hendricks said, without expression.
‘If I have slept past noon, I would hope it has. Is there something you wish to read to me?’
‘A letter. It has no address, and the wax was unmarked. I took the liberty …’
‘Of course.’ Adrian waved away his concerns. ‘Since I cannot see the words, my correspondence is as an open book to you. Please read the contents.’ He set down his tea, took a piece of toast from the rack and waited.
Hendricks cleared his throat and read with obvious discomfort, ‘I wish to thank you for your assistance on the previous evening. If you would honour me with your presence for dinner, take the carriage I will send to your rooms at eight o’clock tonight.’
Adrian waited for more, but no words came. ‘It is not signed?’
