“By threatening them with removal?”
“Surely that is an exaggeration.”
Clara spoke for the first time.
“Mrs. Beale did not consider it an exaggeration.”
Vane turned toward her.
“Miss Langley, I fear you have been misled by a tenant who does not understand the legal position.”
“I have read her lease.”
“Then you will appreciate that such arrangements are open to interpretation.”
“Not the clause concerning the rent.”
The steward's eyes narrowed slightly.
Clara continued.
“Nor the provision concerning her right of occupation.”
“Madam, with respect, the administration of these matters is somewhat complicated.”
“Then you must be very fortunate to have a duke who is prepared to examine them so closely.”
Julian suppressed a smile.
Vane looked between them.
Something had changed.
The supposed bride, whose ignorance he had been encouraged to rely upon, was discussing legal documents with precision.
And the duke, who had been content to sign summaries, was suddenly demanding originals.
Vane closed his account book.
“Your Grace, I shall prepare a full explanation.”
“I expect one.”
“Tomorrow?”
“By six this evening.”
The steward bowed.
“As you wish.”
He left with perfectly controlled steps.
Only when the door closed did Julian speak.
“Well?”
Clara considered.
“He is either entirely innocent or very practiced.”
“You think him guilty.”
“I think he answered every question except the ones you asked.”
Julian went to the window.
Below, Vane crossed the gravel courtyard toward the estate offices.
The steward paused beside a waiting carriage.
A man inside leaned forward.
Julian recognized the elegant gray hat and silver-headed cane.
Sir Edmund Cross.
He watched Vane speak briefly through the carriage window.
Then the carriage moved away.
Julian's expression hardened.
“Miss Langley.”
“Yes?”
“I believe your father's executor has come to pay us a visit.”
Sir Edmund Cross arrived at Alderwick House shortly before dinner.
He was a handsome man in his late fifties, broad through the shoulders despite his advancing years, with silver hair, pale blue eyes, and the polished manners of a gentleman who had spent a lifetime winning confidence.
He greeted Lady Honoria with affectionate ceremony.
He praised Mrs. Hartley's management.
He complimented the duke upon the condition of the gardens.
Then he turned toward Clara.
“My dear child.”
Clara submitted to the kiss he placed upon her forehead.
It had been his customary greeting since she was sixteen.
Once, it had comforted her.
That evening, she felt strangely cold.
“You have given us all a fright,” he said.
“Have I?”
“Arriving without proper notice, traveling through villages, and involving yourself in estate affairs before you have even married.”
Clara smiled pleasantly.
“I have been learning a great deal.”
“So I understand.”
Sir Edmund glanced toward Julian.
“I trust Miss Langley has not overwhelmed you with her enthusiasms, Your Grace.”
Julian's expression remained neutral.
“On the contrary. I have found them instructive.”
Sir Edmund laughed.
“Then you are a more patient man than I.”
Clara looked at him.
Something in the remark reminded her sharply of the letters.
The same tone.
The same implication that her interests were tiresome.
The same assurance that everyone already understood her character.
Sir Edmund had described her to the duke long before they met.
He had also described the duke to her.
And both descriptions had been designed to discourage affection.