Chapter 66
How could he explain that the marriage arrangement had never been about Cassandra at all? He presented her to Whitmore because he needed something that would make the man take his business proposal seriously.
Cassandra had been the incentive.
A wealthy, beautiful wife with valuable connections was precisely the sort of prospect that might persuade Whitmore to entertain Edmund’s proposition. More importantly, it could give Edmund a way into the man’s inner circle, where opportunities existed that might finally allow him to build a name of his own rather than remain forever overshadowed by his sister’s accomplishments.
Edmund always suspected that Whitmore’s wealth had not been acquired entirely through legitimate means, but he had never discovered the true extent of the man’s illicit dealings.
He had simply decided that it did not matter.
Other men did worse and prospered. Why should he remain insignificant and overlooked merely because he lacked the courage to take a risk?
Now that Cassandra had slipped beyond his reach, the man had not contacted him.
What if Whitmore abandoned him?
What if the man decided Edmund had wasted his time and simply found someone else to replace him?
And worse still, what if Edmund had been terribly mistaken about the sort of man he had chosen to involve himself with?
"I asked you a question," Nathaniel said.
Edmund forced himself to meet his father’s gaze once more. "It is a business matter. Whitmore was considering assisting me with some commercial ventures. That is all."
Nathaniel said nothing as Edmund was forced to endure his scrutiny, refusing to look away.
He had lied convincingly enough. There was nothing particularly suspicious about a young man seeking the support of a wealthy businessman. His father knew of Edmund’s ambitions and had no obvious reason to believe there was anything more to it.
Eventually, Nathaniel gave a slow nod.
"Very well."
Relief loosened something in Edmund’s chest.
Nathaniel had not believed him. Not for a moment. He simply understood that pressing Edmund further would accomplish little. Whatever his son had done, he was frightened now, and frightened men were liable to make even greater mistakes when they felt cornered.
Nathaniel returned to his chair, his eyes following Edmund as the young man turned towards the door, ready to leave.
The conversation with Nathaniel had left Edmund in no better state than before.
If anything, his father’s questions had made the uncertainty weighing upon him even more difficult to bear. He had managed to conceal the truth, but only barely, and he knew his father well enough to understand that his explanation had not completely satisfied him.
Still, that was a problem for another time.
For now, there was only one man’s opinion that mattered.
When a footman finally found him later that evening, Edmund’s heart gave an abrupt, hopeful leap.
"There is a letter for you, my lord."
Edmund took it without much thought, pausing when he noticed the name of the sender written across the front.
Lawrence Whitmore.
His fingers tightened around the envelope.
At last.
He dismissed the footman and broke the seal immediately. His eyes moved quickly over the few lines.
I understand there has been an unfortunate complication regarding our arrangement. I trust you will see that it is remedied without unnecessary delay. I shall expect to hear from you shortly.
When he was done, he folded the letter carefully and slipped it into his coat, feeling the weight of it settle against his chest.
If Whitmore had bothered to write to him, then he was certainly in Caldor, or somewhere close.
There was no point in sending a reply. Edmund would go to him himself.
Decision made, he requested for a carriage to be brought around. The waiting seemed interminable, though in truth it could not have been more than a few minutes.
By the time he climbed into the carriage, his thoughts had already begun racing ahead of him and by the time he arrived at Whitmore’s residence, he had rehearsed several versions of what he intended to say.
None of them seemed particularly convincing once he was standing before the imposing entrance of the house.
The residence was every bit as grand as he remembered. The sheer size of the place served as an unpleasant reminder of the difference between them.
Edmund reminded himself that this was merely a social call.
The butler who answered the door listened as Edmund introduced himself as Lord Ashford’s son. After taking a fortifying breath, Edmund requested an audience with Mr. Whitmore.
The butler’s dismissive gaze travelled over him from head to toe before settling upon his face again.
"I shall inform Mr. Whitmore of your presence," the man said drolly.
Edmund stepped aside and gave a stiff nod, his back as rigid as a wooden board.
He expected to be shown into the drawing room. Instead, the butler disappeared deeper into the house, leaving him standing alone in the entrance hall.
Minutes passed slowly, until the quiet began to grate against his already frayed nerves. The ticking of a nearby clock seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness, each passing second reminding him that he was waiting for a man who had apparently decided he was not worth the courtesy of an immediate reception.
Edmund glanced towards the corridor, then towards the door through which the butler had disappeared. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his fingers brushing restlessly against the edge of his coat.
This was not how a man of his standing ought to be received.
A gentleman who came to pay a social call was ordinarily shown into a comfortable room and offered refreshments while his host decided whether he could receive him. Leaving a nobleman’s son standing in the entrance hall like an unwanted tradesman was a deliberate choice.
The thought turned Edmund’s stomach.
Perhaps Whitmore had already made his decision. Perhaps the letter had not been an invitation to repair their friendship like he initially suspected.
At last, the butler returned.
"Mr. Whitmore will see you," he said.
Edmund concealed his relief as best he could and followed him into the drawing room.