Page 68 of A Family Bargain with the Duke

He means to see how badly I falter.

Vane’s smile widened as he watched her with the patient satisfaction of a man who had noticed her stillness and read it exactly as he’d intended to. “Forgive me. I find myself endlessly curious about the practical arrangements of a household so thoroughly transformed in so short a time.”

“I see Sir Edmund, though I fail to see what interest my household holds for you.” Louisa kept her voice even, refusing to let him see how close his question had landed to something she had no intention of discussing with him of all people.

“Merely idle curiosity, Your Grace. You must forgive an old man his interest in the households of his acquaintances.”

“Vane.” Julian’s voice cut across them both, and Louisa felt a rush of relief so immediate it nearly embarrassed her. He crossed the room with a speed that drew several curious glances, positioning himself firmly at her side. “I did not realize you had taken an interest in my household’s arrangements.”

“Merely conversation, Your Grace. Nothing more.”

“Then you will forgive me if I find your conversation this evening considerably less welcome than most.” Julian’s voice carried an edge Louisa had rarely heard him direct at anyone, and she felt something in her chest ease at the sheer protectiveness of it. “My wife has answered quite enough of your idle curiosity for one night, Sir Edmund. I would ask that you direct any further questions regarding my household to me, rather than continue interrogating her on matters that concern no one beyond these walls.”

“I meant no offense, Your Grace.”

“None is taken, provided the subject is closed.”

Vane inclined his head, something unreadable passing behind his eyes before he offered a final, correct bow and withdrew toward the card room.

Louisa let out a breath she had not realized she’d been holding.

“He already knows something,” she whispered, her earlier ease gone. “Or suspects it, at the very least. That was not an idle question, Julian. He was testing to see how I answered it.”

“I know.” Julian’s jaw remained tight, watching the space where Vane had disappeared. “I do not like it.”

Louisa said nothing further. The warmth of the earlier carriage ride, the careless pleasure of his teasing, all of it vanished beneath the unease Vane’s questions had left in their wake. She found herself standing closer to Julian’s side than usual, grateful for his steady presence beside her.

* * *

Julian had scarcely left Louisa in conversation with Lady Camden, some safe distance now placed between her and the card room, when Vane materialized at his elbow.

“Ashvale. A word, if you can spare one.”

“I find I have less patience for your words this evening than usual, Vane.”

“I understand, and I confess I owe you an apology for it.” Vane’s mouth curved, an expression that did not remotely resemble contrition despite the words it accompanied. “I had forgotten quite how protective a man becomes in the earliest months of marriage, particularly one arrived at with such admirable haste. I did not mean to cause your Duchess discomfort. It is just that at this age, I find myself endlessly curious about the small particulars of other people’s households. An old man’s failing, nothing more.”

“Then perhaps, in the future, you might direct your curiosity toward subjects that do not concern my wife.”

“Of course. Of course.” Vane inclined his head too readily and steered them both a few steps further from the nearest cluster of guests, his voice dropping into something lower, more private. “Though I confess the reason I sought you out this evening has less to do with your household and more to do with a matter I mentioned to you some weeks past, at Rosemere.”

“Thomas Whitmore.”

“Precisely.” Vane’s smile remained fixed, pleasant, and yet Julian felt, beneath it, the same careful calculation Louisa had described to him not an hour ago. “I understand he has been rather busy of late, gathering old papers, calling on solicitors, making a nuisance of himself in circles that would rather forget his father’s unfortunate history. I had hoped, when last we spoke, that you might see the wisdom in addressing the matter before it grew unmanageable. I find myself hoping so still.”

“I recall your suggestion clearly enough, Vane. My answer has not changed.”

“A pity.” Something flickered behind Vane’s eyes, brief and cold, gone again before it could properly be named. “You might consider a simpler course than the one you presently favor. A public statement. Nothing elaborate. Merely a word or two from a man of your standing, suggesting that young Whitmore’s claims need more substantiation than he has yet produced, that grief has perhaps clouded his judgment regarding his father’s affairs. Such a statement, coming from you, would settle the matter more quietly than whatever alternative you presently have in mind.”

“And if I decline to make it?”

“Then I fear the matter may grow considerably less quiet than either of us would prefer.” Vane’s voice remained entirely pleasant, entirely conversational, the threat wrapped so carefully in courtesy that anyone passing by might have mistaken the whole exchange for idle pleasantries about the weather. “Young men with grievances and old letters in their possession tend to attract attention, Ashvale, once they begin speaking freely. And attention, once drawn, has a habit of finding more than any of us might wish it to find. I should hate to see your household drawn into scrutiny it has only just begun to enjoy some peace from.”

Julian regarded him steadily, refusing to let the chill of the words show on his face. “You speak in riddles this evening, Vane.”

“I speak plainly enough, for a man willing to listen properly.” Vane’s smile widened before he glanced toward where Louisa stood in easy conversation with Lady Camden, a glance that lasted perhaps half a second too long to be entirely idle. “You have built something rather pleasant for yourself these past months, Your Grace. A contented household. A wife who has, by every account, worked wonders with your ward. I would hate to see any of it disturbed by matters that could so easily be settled with a single well-chosen word from you.”

“I will consider it.”