Page 7 of A Bride for the Ruthless Duke

Theodore’s voice remained even. “You have heard me called worse than severe, or you would not have come to me first.”

Henry’s grip shifted on his hat. “I came because Your Grace is able to settle the matter.”

“You came because you believed me capable of accepting what another man might refuse out of sentiment.”

“I did not say that.”

“You did not have to.”

Henry looked away.

“That silence is your first intelligent answer,” Theodore said. “It does not signify. Hear me now, and remember it, because I will say it once.”

Henry lifted his gaze. “I am listening.”

“You will return tomorrow at ten on the hour with a complete and honest accounting of every debt you hold, written in your own hand.”

“Every debt?”

“The notes, the private debts, the sums you have already admitted, and the ones you decided this afternoon not to mention.”

Henry’s mouth tightened. “I have not concealed anything material.”

“A man who says material when asked for honesty has already begun arranging his defense.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“If I discover later that you have concealed a single shilling from me, our arrangement ends that hour. The notes I hold are called in the same week, and you will learn precisely how patient I am not. Do you understand the terms?”

“Yes.”

“You will say nothing of this to your sister.”

Henry’s head came up. “Nothing at all?”

“Not a word. Not a hint. Not the smallest preparation of her mind for it until I give you leave.”

“She will ask questions.”

“Then you will discover whether invention is easier when it is practiced upon someone who trusts you.”

Henry flinched, and Theodore allowed the blow to remain where it fell.

“Is that understood?”

Henry’s voice had thinned. “Yes, Your Grace.”

““Excellent. Go away.”

Henry stood. He had the grace, at least, not to thank him, which would have been intolerable. He bowed with a stiffness that belonged more to exhaustion than pride. He walked to the door and took his leave.

Theodore returned to the window.

Below, Henry emerged onto the steps and stopped for a moment in the grey afternoon. He placed his hat on his head, looked once toward the north side of the square, and walked away with the particular care of a man concentrating very hard on not running.

Theodore did not return to his desk.

He rang.