Page 9

I STAYED up too late after the unpleasant dinner with James, poring over one of the cases in my pile mostly just to keep my mind off the barbs that had been sent in my direction.

Arthur’s words, too, had left me ruffled.

I hadn’t expected Arthur Ashford to be my undoing, but the man was so handsome it was hard not to allow myself to give in to fantasies.

The summer was proving to be less relaxing than first blush had indicated, and it was well into the small hours of the morning when I finally snuffed my candle and went to bed.

When I woke, it was to one of the maids pulling back the curtains in my room.

It was one of those rare beautiful days in England, the sky already blue and vast despite the early hour, and I was beginning to daydream about spending my Sunday outside when the maid turned to me, an apologetic look on her face.

“Colonel Wright has asked if you’d have breakfast with him in the sunroom,” she said, wringing her hands.

“I told him you usually ate with the young Mr. Ashford, but he was insistent.”

I pushed myself into a sitting position, looking at her blankly for a few moments before I truly realized what I was being told. “Breakfast alone?”

“So I understand,” she said, still apologetic, and I saw that James Wright had no doubt used his particular brand of discourtesy on her at some point. “I had Felix set some clothes out for you already. He seems to know your taste best.”

“Thank you, Anna,” I said, and she left after ensuring that all the windows were thrown open and the curtains pulled back.

I washed my face and shaved quickly, avoiding nicking myself despite my speed, and by the time I was dressed and caught sight of myself in the looking glass I looked halfway presentable.

Dread churned in my chest as I made my way downstairs, the thought of spending time with James nowhere near the pleasant day I had envisioned.

The sunroom, a large glass addition that had been put in place by the late Lord Ashford as a show of affection for his wife, was one of my favorite places in the house.

It led directly into the greenhouse but served as an area more for entertaining, and Charles and I were fond of having our afternoon tea there.

For it to be sullied by a man like James was genuinely annoying.

Still, there was nothing I could do at this point; avoiding breakfast with the man was out of the question, and I was curious as to what he had to say to me.

An apology seemed unlikely, so I had to assume that whatever James wanted was a continuation of the night before.

I wasn’t going to turn tail and run when I’d done nothing wrong.

James was sitting at one of the small tea tables when I arrived, breakfast already spread out before him, and as soon as I approached, he offered me a smile. “Good morning, Mr. Whitmore. Have a seat.”

I settled into the chair across from him, surprised as he poured me a cup of tea.

I dropped in a sugar cube, keeping quiet as I waited for him to say more.

Once I had doctored my tea and helped myself to a scone, I raised my eyebrows at him in the most courteous way I knew how.

“I must say, Colonel, I’m confused as to why you invited me to breakfast. I got the distinct impression last night that you weren’t a fan of mine. ”

“Is that how it seemed?” James asked, looking at me.

“I was merely trying my best to figure out what you were trying to accomplish by coming to Ashford Hall. I know you’ve been friends with Charles for most of your lives, but you’ve never been invited to the estate before.

It seems strange that you would have been invited this summer, all things considered. ”

“Why would this summer be any different?” I asked. “Charles and I frequently spend time together during the warmer months. This year he just didn’t feel like coming to London, so he invited me here. I’m not sure that necessarily points to anything strange.”

James studied me, and there was something there that I had missed during our unpleasant conversation the night prior: shrewdness.

As loud and abrasive as the man was, he was also planning something, and it was clear that I had come in between him and his plans.

I realized that James had engineered his visit to Ashford Hall not as a last-minute drop-in but specifically to find out more about myself and immediately decided to abandon any attempts to dismiss his rudeness on my end.

I settled back in my chair, taking a sip of my tea as I began to look at James from a lawyer’s point of view.

“Do you think it was Charles’s idea to invite you?” James asked. “If he’s never invited you before, why now?”

“If you think it wasn’t Charles, do you think Arthur decided that he wanted to invite me here?

” I asked in return. The look in James’s eyes told me that he thought that I had hit upon the truth, but I could think of nothing further from the mark.

“Arthur and I had never met each other before last week, nor do we particularly get along. What possible reason could he have to invite me here?”

“There was a portrait of you published in the paper recently, wasn’t there? You successfully defended a murder suspect. Quite the flattering sketch.”

“I don’t see what a sketch has to do with my presence at Ashford Hall,” I said, concern creeping up the nape of my neck. What James was implying—that Arthur had only allowed Charles to invite me here after seeing my picture in the papers—was impossible. “Charles invited me.”

“You really don’t realize, do you?” James said, setting his teacup down. “How much you look like—”

“I thought I’d find you two in here.” Charles walked over to the tea table, leaning over and plucking a biscuit from the tray.

I looked up at him, startled by his sudden appearance, and found that he wasn’t looking at me but was instead looking at James.

“Felix mentioned something about breakfast in the sunroom. I’m hurt that I wasn’t invited. ”

“I thought it would be nice if I had the opportunity to speak with Mr. Whitmore, just the two of us. Clear the air, you know.”

Charles hummed softly, but I could tell he was bothered, still looking at James. “Your horses are ready. I think you should leave now, James. You won’t be welcome back for the rest of the summer.”

James looked up at Charles, and there was that shrewd look in his eyes once again before it disappeared and he got to his feet. “I see,” he said. “Thank you for confirming my suspicions, Charles.”

“I confirmed nothing,” Charles said, and it was the iciest I’d ever heard him.

“Please leave.” He watched James walk out of the sunroom, clearly making sure that he didn’t try to turn back around and rejoin me, and then he looked at me, his expression softening.

He settled into James’s abandoned seat and sighed softly.

“I’m really sorry,” he said finally. “Arthur and I should have told you from the beginning that James is…. Well, we aren’t sure what his plan is, but it has something to do with Ashford Hall.

He’s the one who was responsible for the poaching incident in the first place. ”

“What do you mean?” I leaned forward, looking at Charles intently.

I couldn’t figure out what was going on between the Ashford men and James, but I had a feeling that both James’s last-minute appearance at the estate and Arthur and Charles’s discomfort at his presence were symptoms of a much larger problem.

“Charles, if something is happening, you know you can tell me. I can help.”

“I know,” Charles said, pouring himself a cup of tea.

“Two years ago, we had James here for the summer. He’s always been annoying, but he’s never been an outright problem, and we were having a host of childhood friends over, so we thought the polite thing to do would be to invite him to stay as well.

His cousins were here, Ida and Rudolph Nelson, and with his older brother having recently taken up his father’s lordship, Arthur and I thought James might like the chance to spend time with people with less responsibility. ”

I listened, the mention of the Nelson siblings not a surprise; I’d heard their names before in conjunction with the Ashford family and understood they had been raised essentially alongside one another.

From where I was standing, the intermingling of the families was clear but convoluted: James Wright was the son of the late Lord Ashford’s sister, who had married Lord Wright ages ago, and the Nelson siblings were the offspring of Lord Wright’s sister in turn.

“What does that have to do with the poaching incident?”

“We’ve always had a standing agreement with surrounding households that they’re permitted to hunt in our woods,” Charles said.

“It’s been in place longer than Arthur or myself has been alive, and we’ve never had trouble with it.

There’s game enough in those woods for us and anyone who’d like to help themselves to it.

But there is a man who lives nearby who had served with James during the trouble in India.

James never told us what his issue with the fellow was, but they were in a verbal confrontation not long after James arrived here.

A few days later, the man was hunting in the woods, which I understand was a usual habit of his.

He’d kill a deer and use that meat for his wife and children. This time….”