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Exhaustion weighed upon him.
Between watching Polk and Jonathan flirt relentlessly with Tricia, listening to the lords and ladies at his table bestow the virtues of their offspring, and the knowledge that he had to talk to the viscount later, what he really wanted was to send them all far from his estate. All except Tricia, whom he wanted to bed.
Making love to her all night would ease all the aggressions burning inside him. And so very many of them there were.
After dessert came fruit and cheese, featuring local and imported cheeses, grapes, and nuts accompanied by a selection of port and sherry.
Thomas did not partake. He’d only had one flute of champagne and one goblet of wine, and he needed his wits about him for his talk with the viscount. He waited patiently as coffee and digestifs were then served afterward.
The ladies drank the coffee, and a few of the gentlemen took a digestif. Most of the men would retire to the gentlemen’s parlor for cognac and Armagnac later.
Thomas, of course, was obligated to stay until his last guest left the dining room.
And he thought it would never happen.
Tricia left, escorted by both Polk and Jonathan, but Thomas noticed they stopped and talked to her mother, Lady Clementine, for a moment.
Neither Polk nor Jonathan could be serious about Tricia. Could they?
Once every gentleman had retired for smoking, the dining hall was empty but for servants and his own mother. Thomas escorted his mother to the parlor to talk with the ladies for a bit, and then he went off to find the viscount.
Indeed the viscount was in the smoking room, along with many other gentlemen—but Polk and Jonathan were noticeably absent.
Just as they had been noticeably absent from the hunt.
He approached the viscount. “Polk, we need to have words.”
“Can’t I finish my cigar first, Ashford?”
“I’m afraid it cannot wait. You and I can enjoy a cigar outside, where we shan’t be bothered and we can speak in private.”
A few of the other gentlemen overheard the conversation and looked at him questioningly.
But he offered no explanation. This was his estate, and if he wanted to talk to Viscount Polk alone, he damned well would.
In his pocket was the leather-bound journal of his father’s that he had found in the study this morning. Why had Thomas not found it sooner? He did not know, except that he’d been in mourning, and there’d been so much to deal with during the year. He hadn’t looked in that bottom drawer of his father’s bureau. It hadn’t occurred to him to do so.
Once he and Viscount Polk had left the smoking room, he led the viscount out of the house, off the veranda, to a small bench near the orangery. However, they did not sit.
“What the devil is it, Ashford?” the viscount asked.
“As I mentioned before, I understand you and my father had some disputes regarding border and water rights before his passing.”
“Yes, we did have a few, but as I told you earlier, it was all taken care of.”
Thomas took a step toward the viscount. “This doesn’t make any sense to me, my lord. The Ashford and Polk estates have been well mapped out for decades. Why would there be any disputes now?”
“Nothing to worry your head about, Ashford.” The viscount’s tone was even, but Thomas could see a vein popping out on his forehead. “As I say, your father and I took care of it.”
“Is it true that my father and you shared some meals during these disputes, usually at your estate?”
“Ah, yes. I recall that.”
“After which my father felt a bit ill.”
Viscount Polk’s eyebrows nearly flew off his forehead. “Now I certainly don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Thomas pulled his father’s journal out of his breast pocket. “I came across this journal in my father’s study today. Interestingly, right after I had caught your son Victor and my own cousin loitering about the entrance to my study.”
