Page 20 of Greystone’s Legacy (To All The Earls I’ve Loved Before #5)
Yet beneath all these practical concerns lay a deeper unease.
The betrayal he had survived had left its mark, teaching him harsh lessons about trust and vigilance.
As he stood in the familiar surroundings of White's, Freddie couldn't help but wonder how many other secrets lurked behind the polite facades of society's most respected families.
His grandfather's voice drew him back to the present. "We shall weather this storm, Freddie. The Greystone line has survived far worse in its history."
Freddie found his thoughts turning to Montague. The memory of their predawn meeting felt almost dreamlike now, though it had occurred mere hours ago. He had met his cousin in the park again, having slipped a note to him the previous evening.
The meeting played out again in his mind: Montague's familiar figure materialising from the darkness, his usually cheerful face drawn with concern.
They had stood among the winter-bare trees beside the Serpentine, their breath forming clouds in the cold air as Freddie explained what was about to happen.
"You must get your mother away from London immediately," Freddie had told him, watching his cousin's face carefully in the grey predawn light. "Today. Take her to Bath, or better yet, get on a ship to Italy, if one is available. Anywhere but here."
Monty had listened without interruption, his normally mobile features absolutely still.
When Freddie finished speaking, he had remained quiet for several long moments before saying, "Thank you for keeping your word, Freddie.
" He offered his hand for Freddie to shake, before nodding. "Goodbye. And good luck."
Now, hours later, Freddie felt a profound gratitude toward his younger cousin.
The fact that Edmund and Sebastian had appeared at White's completely unprepared proved that Montague had kept their conversation private.
He had chosen to protect his mother rather than warn his father and brother, a choice Freddie knew must have cost him dearly.
Their relationship had always been different from the one Freddie shared with Sebastian.
Where Sebastian had been competitive and often cruel, Montague had maintained a certain warmth, even in the face of his father's disapproval.
Freddie remembered countless shared adventures in their youth, times more recently when Monty had covered for him with Uncle Edmund, small kindnesses that spoke to his cousin's fundamental decency.
The morning's events would change everything for Montague as well. Though not directly implicated in his father's schemes, he would bear the burden of their shame. Society had a long memory for scandal, and the Greystone name would be on every tongue in London for months to come.
Yet Freddie felt confident he had made the right choice in warning him.
Montague's mother, Lady Arabella, might be a social climber, but all Lord Burrowes' efforts had found no evidence that she had ever been party to her husband's darker schemes.
She deserved the chance to avoid the public humiliation of being present for Edmund's downfall.
A club servant came to his elbow just then with a hastily scrawled note. Freddie recognised Montague's distinctive hand:
"We are safely away. Mother does not want to believe. I am sorry for everything. God speed, cousin. - M"
Freddie folded the note carefully and placed it in his pocket.
The simple words carried the weight of years of complicated family history, of shared secrets and divergent paths.
He wished he could have offered Montague more comfort, some assurance that his own future would not be entirely blighted by his father's crimes.
But perhaps that would come later, when the initial shock had passed and the legal proceedings were concluded.
The earl had always had a soft spot for Edmund's younger son, recognising in him a gentler nature than either his father or brother possessed.
With time, there might be a place for Montague in the reformed family circle.
The morning's events had proven that blood ties were not always enough to ensure loyalty, but they had also shown that loyalty could exist even in the face of competing obligations.
Montague had chosen honour over family loyalty, had chosen to believe in Freddie's word over his father's lifetime of influence.
"Good luck, Monty," Freddie murmured to the glass, his breath briefly fogging the pane. They had both chosen their paths now, and only time would tell where they might lead.
One look at his grandmother's face told him she carried news he would not wish to hear, as he entered the drawing-room, jubilant and eager to tell Hester his news.
"She's gone, isn't she?" he asked, his voice rougher than he intended. The words scraped his throat like broken glass.
Lady Burrowes nodded slowly. "She left for Wales this morning, with her aunts. They departed soon after you left for White's." She hesitated, then held out a letter. "She left this for you."
Freddie accepted the paper with steady hands that belied his inner turmoil. The neat, practical handwriting was so characteristic of Hester that his chest ached just looking at it. He unfolded the sheet carefully, aware of his grandmother's sympathetic gaze.
" My dearest Freddie ," he read silently, " By the time you read this, we will be well on our way home to Wales.
I cannot stay to witness your triumph, though I rejoice in it.
Your grandfather's restoration to health and the exposure of those who sought to harm you bring me more joy than I can express.
" But I have come to understand that I cannot be part of your world.
The events of recent weeks have shown me how vast the gulf is between us.
You are the heir to an earldom, and I am merely a country gentleman's daughter.
My presence in your life can only complicate matters at a time when you need absolute clarity and support from your peers.
Moreover, I will not allow myself to be used as a weapon against you, as Lord Edmund sought to make me .
" Please know that you have my heart, completely and irrevocably. But sometimes love must bow to duty and practicality. Be the earl your grandfather knows you can be. Make your family proud. And sometimes, perhaps, think kindly of your friend, Hester ."
Freddie lowered the letter slowly, aware of a curious numbness spreading through his chest. "She thinks she's protecting me," he said finally, looking up at his grandmother. "She believes her presence would somehow damage my position."
Lady Burrowes sighed. "She's not entirely wrong about the challenges you would face. Edmund still has his supporters, and you and your grandfather have a fight ahead with the legal course you have chosen. A marriage to someone of her station would provide ammunition to your detractors."
"And yet you don't sound convinced," Freddie observed, noting the slight frown that creased his grandmother's forehead.
"I have watched you these past days," she replied carefully.
"I have seen how you've grown stronger, more sure of yourself, since meeting her.
Since returning to London, you have shown a maturity and grace that would have done any earl proud.
" She paused, smoothing her skirts. "I cannot help but think that Hester's influence has contributed to that growth. "
Freddie stood and walked to the window, watching the fashionable promenading in the square below. Another day in London, another day of political machinations and social climbing. It all seemed terribly hollow without Hester's practical wisdom to cut through the artifice.
"She restored me," he said quietly. "Not just my memories, but my sense of self. How can I simply let her go?"
"Perhaps you shouldn't," his grandmother suggested.
Her voice held a note of careful consideration that made Freddie turn to look at her.
"The ton will always find something to gossip about.
But a man who can face down the schemes of Edmund and Sebastian Grey might well be strong enough to weather the storm of marrying for love. "
Freddie felt something shift inside him, like pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place.
He looked down at Hester's letter again, seeing beyond the words to the love and sacrifice they represented.
She had removed herself from his life out of a desire to protect him, to ensure his position remained secure.
But she had not considered one crucial factor: he was no longer the confused, vulnerable man who had stumbled into her life in Wales. He was Lord Frederick Grey, heir to the Earldom of Greystone, and he had faced down threats far more serious than social disapproval.
"I'm going after her," he announced, straightening his shoulders.
His grandmother's face broke into a warm smile. "I thought you might say that. Shall I have Thompson pack your things?"
"There's no time." He grinned at her. "But can I borrow Uncle Anthony's horse? I sold mine…"
"I shall not mention to Anthony that you borrowed him." Lady Burrowes returned his smile. "I did send ahead, to book rooms for the night at the Wheatsheaf in High Wycombe for the Wynstanley ladies, and gave the coachman strict instructions. I expect you will find them there."
Delighted, he stooped to kiss her cheek. "You are a wonder, Grandmother. Thank you."
She reached up to pat his cheek gently. "Your mother would be so proud of you," she said softly. "She always said that love was worth fighting for."
Freddie covered her hand with his own, drawing strength from her approval.
"Now go and find her, and if you come back without them I shall be exceedingly cross. Miss Felicity makes a herbal tea that has done wonders for my arthritis, and I neglected to ask her for the recipe!"
Laughing, he turned on his heel and made for the door. "Whether I am able to bring them back will depend entirely on Hester, but I promise if nothing else I shall get that recipe for you!"