Free The Way to a Duke's Heart: The Truth About the Duke by Caroline Linden Page B

who would care if she came to see the canal alone—not anyone whose opinion she valued, at any rate. She still suspected Louise had wanted Eugenie out of the way as she prepared for her move to London. Louise loved the older lady dearly, but she also knew Eugenie’s endless worries would wear away her most exuberant plans. After fourteen years of marriage to doughty Lord Woodall, Louise was ready to embrace widowhood and the delights of London at the same time.
    Still, Tessa had to breathe deeply to fight back her indignation. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Eugenie; rather the contrary, in fact. Eugenie had lived with them for almost as long as she could remember, as devoted to the three children as their own mother had been. Tessa never wanted to hurt Eugenie, no matter how trying her little vagaries could be at times. She hadn’t wanted to bring the older lady along on this trip precisely because it would be dull and uncomfortable and only Louise would care if anyone commented on Tessa traveling with only her maid, Mary, for company. She was eight-and-twenty years old, for heaven’s sake, and capable of taking care of herself. There was no need to fear ruining her marital prospects, because she had none and wanted none, and if someone decided to attack and rob her on the road, the presence of Eugenie was hardly likely to serve as any deterrent. If only Louise had been rational and logical, she would have seen that it made far more sense for Eugenie to stay home at Rushwood, or even to remain in Bath while she visited the canal works herself.
    But that was all pointless wishing now. She had given in, after all, when Louise grew hysterical and dramatic, and Eugenie was with her. They would all have to make the best of things.
    “Shall we step out to tea?” Tessa asked as Mary began unpacking their things. It was too late in the day to do much more, and after hours in the travel chaise, she wanted a bit of exercise.
    “Yes, dear, if you like.” Eugenie smiled valiantly, although without any of the wide-eyed enthusiasm she’d displayed on their arrival in Bath. Of course, it was highly unlikely they’d meet anyone as illustrious as the Earl of Gresham in Frome—and thank goodness for that, Tessa reminded herself.
    She gave her companion her arm as they left the inn. Another week or so and they would be on their way to London, where there would be plenty to brighten Eugenie’s eyes again.
    O nce Charlie knew where his quarry was headed, he saw no point in rushing out of Bath at an uncivilized hour. He enjoyed his breakfast and then settled into the hired coach for the journey. At his instruction, Barnes put the leather satchel from Edward in the carriage instead of packed away in a trunk, and finally, reluctantly, Charlie opened it.
    The first item he removed was a copy of the petition filed with the Home Office, requesting the writ of summons that would establish Charles de Lacey as the eighteenth Duke of Durham. The pages of dense, neat script made his eyes cross. His brother Edward had hired the best legal minds in London to produce this; there was nothing he could add to it, even if he’d had the first idea about what it said. Gingerly, Charlie set it aside.
    Next he pulled out a packet of letters, bound with string, which proved to be from Mr. Pierce, Durham’s country solicitor. These went back over a year and included letters from Durham in reply to Pierce’s. Charlie stared at his father’s handwriting, no longer as sharp and bold as it had once been but shaky, almost scrawling, at times. He knew Edward had handled the vast majority of Durham business for eight years or more. Mr. Pierce must have written to Edward at least every week during the span of these letters, and yet the solicitor had never breathed a word about them. Durham had commanded him not to. Charlie read one letter from Pierce, reporting almost miserably on the lack of progress by the hired investigators; they had exhausted all clues