Page 23 of A Bride for the Ruthless Duke

“The absences.”

“Twenty minutes on one occasion. Near half an hour on the other.”

Theodore’s expression remained unchanged. “Remarkably careless.”

“Perhaps remarkably confident.”

“Confidence is usually another word for carelessness in the young.”

Pearce made no comment.

Theodore accepted the report with the faintest movement of his hand. “When did it end?”

“In May,” Pearce said. “Abruptly. Within the same week the family’s difficulties became a subject of general conversation.”

“He dropped her when the money went.”

Pearce’s eyes lifted from the page. “He ceased all contact, Your Grace. No letter, no call, nothing my source could trace for the whole of the summer.”

“Three months.”

“Three months,” Pearce agreed, turning back to the report. “Then in September, the connection resumed. A note delivered to the Middleton house. A call. Two further notes since.”

Theodore leaned back, his expression unchanged. The irritation remained, though he could not have said why. The woman was not his wife. She was scarcely more than a name on paper and a negotiation nearing completion. Yet the existence of the letters, the walks, the vanished half-hours sat in his mind with an unwelcome persistence.

“What prompted the gentleman to recover his memory?”

“My source could not say.”

“Your source has disappointed me.”

“He added one matter for completeness,” Pearce said, as if disappointment were a weather condition to be endured with good posture. “Lieutenant Vance has been gambling more freely than his pay allows.”

“How freely?”

“Freely enough to lose a sum he is in no position to cover.”

Theodore was quiet for a moment.

Pearce kept the report open and waited.

“So,” Theodore said at last, his voice low and controlled, “the boy came back when his pockets were empty.”

“That is a possible reading.”

“It is the only reading worth the trouble of saying aloud.”

Pearce inclined his head. “Yes, Your Grace.”

The timing was a sentence upon Vance complete in itself. Theodore turned it over once, found nothing in it that improved the man, and set it aside for later use.

Pearce adjusted the report in his hands. “You always ask me the same question at this point. I can spare you the trouble, if you wish.”

“Spare me nothing. I dislike surprises more than repetition.”

“You would ask whether anyone of note has been observed near the principals.”

Theodore’s gaze lifted. “And has anyone?”