Ellie touched his sleeve before he could continue. His attention dropped immediately to her fingers. "I can answer for myself." She looked at Sophia. "Mostly leaking roofs."
One woman hid a smile. Sophia did not. "How practical. Though I suppose practicality is useful when one has neither fortune nor family connections."
Ellie felt the sting, but kept her shoulders relaxed. "It is useful even when one has both."
Alexander's mouth almost curved. Sophia noticed. Her face changed.
By the following morning, the first anonymous note arrived at Whitmore Hall. By afternoon, there were three. By evening, a society sheet claimed Ellie had deliberately placed herself in Alexander's household to secure a marriage above her station. Two days later, the language became uglier. Seduction, ambition, a housekeeper's niece hunting a duke.
Alexander threw the paper into the library fire. "I will answer this publicly."
Ellie watched the page blacken. "And say what? That every word is false. They will ask why you care."
"Let them." His voice sharpened. "I am not ashamed of being seen with you."
"I know."
"Then why do you look frightened?"
Ellie looked toward the ledgers on his desk. Bellamy's loan proposal lay beneath them. "Because Whitmore's credit renewal is in 6 weeks."
Alexander went still. "That is my concern."
"Those tenant families are your concern, too. Do not confuse them with Bellamy's ambition."
"I'm not."
She stepped closer. "I'm asking what happens if defending me costs you the loan."
Alexander's eyes hardened. "Then it costs me the loan."
The answer came too quickly. Ellie's chest tightened. "You cannot sacrifice hundreds of people because society has been cruel to one woman."
"Do not decide what I may sacrifice."
"And you do not get to decide that I must be comfortable being the reason."
Silence struck between them. Alexander's anger disappeared first. "Ellie."
She looked at his bare hand resting beside hers on the desk. She wanted to close the distance. Instead, she stepped back.
That night, long after Whitmore Hall fell quiet, Ellie packed one small traveling case. She left the ledgers neatly stacked, placed her keys beside Aunt May's account book, and wrote Alexander a letter she rewrote four times before sealing it. At dawn, a hired carriage waited beyond the east gate. Ellie climbed inside without looking back.
An hour later, Alexander entered the library carrying two cups of tea. He saw the empty chair first, then the envelope bearing his name. He broke the seal standing beside the cold fireplace. There were only four lines. When he reached the last one, his hand tightened around the page.
Ellie had written, "You once asked me to stay because I noticed what everyone else missed. So, please notice this. If keeping me means losing Whitmore, I will not let you choose me."
Alexander stared at the words for a long moment, then reached for the bell. "Have my horse saddled," he said when the footman appeared, "and send for my solicitor. And send for my solicitor."
The footman hesitated only long enough to bow before disappearing. Alexander looked again at Ellie's letter. The words "If keeping me means losing Whitmore" seemed to darken on the page. He folded it once and slipped it inside his coat.
"Your grace." Aunt May stood in the doorway, pale and sleepless. "If you mean to follow her, she has gone to her cousin Mrs. Carter in Bath."
Alexander reached for his gloves. "Thank you."
"But if you bring her back without solving what drove her away, she will leave again."
His hand stopped. Aunt May had served Whitmore Hall for 27 years. She had never spoken to him with anything resembling defiance. "You agree with her?" he asked.
"I understand her." She glanced toward the two cups of tea he had carried in. "There is a difference."
Alexander slowly set his gloves down. Then he rang again. "Cancel the horse."
Aunt May's expression softened, but only slightly. "What will you do?" she asked.
He touched the letter inside his coat. "Notice."
By noon, Alexander and his solicitor had every Whitmore account spread across the library table. Hargrove's theft had weakened the estate, but it had not destroyed it. The true danger lay in three private loans Alexander had assumed after Edmund's supposed death, debts secured against Whitmore lands and due for renewal within weeks. Lord Bellamy controlled two of them through affiliated banks.
"If Bellamy refuses renewal," the solicitor said, "we require immediate capital."
Alexander looked toward the rain-streaked windows. "My personal holdings, the London townhouse, your racing stable, the woodland parcel in Sussex, sell them."
The solicitor stared. "Your grace, the townhouse alone has belonged to your family for generations. The tenants have belonged to themselves for longer."
By evening, another discovery changed everything. Among Hargrove's seized correspondence was a letter from Lady Sophia's brother to the editor of the society sheet. The instructions were unmistakable. "Make Miss Harper appear calculating, immoral, and financially desperate. Pressure Whitmore toward the Bellamy marriage."
Alexander read it once, then again. His face became very calm. "Make copies."
Two days later, Lady Pembroke's drawing room was crowded for what society believed would be Alexander Whitmore's announcement of renewed negotiations with Lady Sophia. Sophia stood beside her father in silver silk, confidence restored. Alexander entered alone. Lord Bellamy approached first.
"Whitmore, sensible of you to reconsider."
"I have reconsidered many things." Alexander handed a packet to Lady Pembroke. "Would you read the first letter aloud?"
Bellamy's smile disappeared. Sophia went white before the second paragraph. By the time Lady Pembroke reached the instructions concerning Ellie, whispers had spread across the room.
"This proves nothing," Bellamy snapped.
"It proves your son purchased slander," Alexander said. "My solicitor has the original."
Sophia stepped toward him. "Alexander, surely you understand why my family acted. That woman was jeopardizing an arrangement beneficial to everyone. Her name is Miss Harper. She is a housekeeper's niece, and yet she has shown more integrity than anyone involved in your arrangement."
Sophia's eyes flashed. "You would risk Whitmore for her?"
Alexander looked around the room at the same people who had welcomed six marriage candidates into his home as though selecting a duchess were an auction. "No," his voice remained quiet. "I would risk my comfort rather than sell my life."
Bellamy laughed harshly. "Without my guarantees, you lose the loans."
"Your guarantees are no longer required." Alexander's solicitor stepped forward with documents confirming the sale instructions for Alexander's London townhouse, racing stable, and Sussex woodland. "The proceeds cover the shortfall," Alexander said. "Whitmore remains intact. Tenant rents remain unchanged."
Bellamy's face reddened. "You would sell your inheritance for a woman who ran away from you?"
Alexander's hand moved to Ellie's letter inside his coat. "I am selling possessions because I neglected my responsibilities. Miss Harper merely taught me to see them."
Sophia stared at him. "And if she refuses you?"
That question silenced the room. Alexander did not hesitate. "Then she refuses me." He looked directly at Sophia. "Doing the right thing is not a payment placed at a woman's feet so she owes you love in return."
No one laughed. No one whispered. Alexander bowed to Lady Pembroke and left.