Andrew Lord of Despair(11)

Douglas surprised her by taking her hand in his. “Herbert was taken from you too soon, and without any chance for the two of you to make plans for the eventuality of his death. You need not worry—not about money, not about a place to live, not about your security. The dower house at Amery Hall is now yours for your lifetime, and I will be happy to manage your widow’s portion as well.”

Manage her widow’s portion? Astrid no more wanted Douglas handling her finances than she wanted to wear mourning for the next years, or wanted to remove to the moldering confines of the Amery dower house. Legalities and trust documents notwithstanding, she would manage her own finances, thank you very much, or at the very least, consult Gareth or her brother, David, rather than turn one penny over to Douglas.

Astrid blocked out the sound of the ticking clock, murmured platitudes, and had the footman fetch her lavender shawl in hopes the combination of lavender and black with her blond coloring might make Douglas bilious. Two and a half polite eternities passed before Douglas rose and called for his hat, cane, and gloves.

“Thank you for coming by,” she said, trying to appreciate the gesture.

“Your welfare is my concern, Astrid. Should you need anything, you must not hesitate to ask.”

Why did he have to sound like a disapproving headmaster?

“You are kind, Douglas,” she said, glad to be walking him to the door. When she thought she had him on his way, he turned to regard her once more.

“Shall I have the solicitors draw up a power of attorney? I’m sure they could see to it without delay.” His expression was one of polite concern—his expression was often one of polite concern.

“Douglas, it’s too soon for me to think about such things. I know the finances need to be dealt with, but I cannot make myself take such steps yet.”

To her relief, he tapped his hat onto his head.

“If you are not up to making decisions, that is all the more reason to leave troublesome financial details to me. Still, my lady, you must do as you see fit. I will see you before your remove to Surrey, and I’ll have Mother join us.”

“That would be lovely.” It would be hell.

“Perhaps Henry or I will jaunt down to Surrey to check on you, if the weather’s fine? I would, of course, allow my host the courtesy of notice before presuming to visit.”

Astrid didn’t dignify that with a reply, because it was a veiled criticism of her recent visit to the Allen family solicitors. That had been appallingly awkward. Without David glaring at them and making implied threats, Astrid would have fared quite poorly. Even with David’s formidable presence beside her, there had been a goodly quantity of dodging, throat clearing, and paper shuffling.

“I’m sure Heathgate will always open his home to family,” Astrid said, wishing it were not so.

The only time she’d felt a sense of sanctuary since Herbert’s death had been when she’d been wrapped in Andrew Alexander’s arms, hearing his gentle scolds, and breathing in the clean, dear scent of him.

Which meant a remove from Town and the temptations thereof was all the more prudent.

***

“Where’s the little widow?” Henry asked after he’d kissed his mother’s cheek.

Urania Dupres Allen, of the Dorchester Dupres, stifled a sigh as her younger surviving son appropriated her favorite chair.

“I did not give you leave to sit, Henry, and I do believe your breath smells of spirits.” His breath reeked exactly as his father’s breath had usually reeked, truth be told.

“Come, Mama, you cannot begrudge me a tot now and then. The Scots prefer to start their day with a wee dram, and they’re a hardier race for it.”

The Scots were also impoverished, uncouth, and impossible to understand. Urania rang for the tea tray, exacting a small vengeance for the disappointment that was her surviving sons, for Henry—again like his father—despised tea. She took a seat away from the sunlight streaming through the window, a lady’s complexion being one of her most important assets.

Particularly a lady of a certain age, particularly a lady with a redhead’s fair skin, who used the occasional very light henna treatment on that hair.

“You asked me about Astrid, but why should I have any notion of her whereabouts? I wasn’t aware she’d started leaving her house yet.” The house that was a deal more comfortable than the pokey establishment Douglas provided for his mother.

Herbert had promised her better quarters as soon as the lease was up. If only dear Herbert had lived…

Henry helped himself to the lemon drops in the candy dish on the side table. “I couldn’t imagine Astrid had anywhere to go except to visit you—or perhaps that sister of hers.”