Chapter Four: The Invitation

Lord Blackwood’s invitations did not ask. They arranged the room before you arrived.

I found Eleanor Hartwell at the kitchen table, reading the letter with her father. The candlelight softened her face but not her expression. She had read the page twice, and each time her fingers tightened around its edge.

“May I ask what it says?” I asked.

“No.”

Her father looked between us. “Your Highness, this is a private matter.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it.” I did not move. “But if the letter concerns the missing charity supplies, I need to know.”

“It concerns my family,” Eleanor said. “It has nothing to do with your investigation.”

The letter bore Alistair Blackwood’s seal. I recognised the crest from the brass token. “Lord Blackwood is involved in the warehouse accounts.”

“Then you should investigate him. You don’t need to investigate me.”

Her father lowered his eyes. “The Lord Chancellor has been generous to us.”

“That’s not the same as being kind,” she said.

The room went still. I knew that tone. It was the sound of someone trying to protect another person from a truth they already understood.

I glanced at the letter. “He’s called you to his estate?”

“I will go.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“Let me accompany you.”

“No.”

The refusal was immediate. I should have accepted it. Instead, I heard myself say, “I’m not asking as a prince.”

“What are you asking as?”

I had no answer that would not make the room smaller. I wanted to see her again. I wanted to know why she spoke to me as if I were capable of being better than I was. I wanted to know what Blackwood had put in that letter.

Her father stood. “Your Highness, Eleanor has obligations.”

“Obligations to whom?”

“To the family.”

Eleanor folded the letter. “I’m going to Blackwood House tomorrow. That is all you need to know.”

I took a step back. Her guardedness made me want to push. Her fear made me want to stop. I chose the latter, though it cost more than it should have.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said.

“You won’t.”

I left with the knowledge that she was keeping something from me and the stronger knowledge that she had reason to.

At the palace, I asked Reed to find out what Blackwood wanted from the Hartwells. He returned before supper with a single fact: Lord Reginald Blackwood was dying, and his son had been searching for a young woman to marry him as a companion and caretaker.

I read the note twice. Then I ordered Reed to bring the carriage.

I reached Blackwood House just as Eleanor stepped from the family carriage. She wore a dark green dress and held herself perfectly still while a footman opened the door. Her father did not accompany her.

“Miss Hartwell,” I called.

She turned. Her surprise lasted only a moment before she hid it.

“You followed me.”

“I came to ask you to reconsider.”

“You don’t know what I’ve agreed to.”

“I know Blackwood’s reputation.”

“And I know my family’s debts.”

“Let me help you.”

Her gaze sharpened. “You want to help me, or you want to decide what I should do?”

The question hit its mark. I stepped aside, giving her a clear path to the door.

She went in without looking back.

------------------------

I kept the letter folded in my lap on the ride to Blackwood House. My father had wanted to come. I had told him the invitation was routine and that a prince’s visit had made the household curious. It was a poor lie, but a familiar one. I had learnt to tell my family only the part of the truth they could bear to hear.

The estate stood beyond a row of bare elms, all grey stone and polished windows. It looked less like a home than a place built to keep secrets from the weather. A footman took my cloak. The housekeeper, Mrs Vale, looked at my wet hem and quietly brought a second shawl before anyone could comment.

Lord Alistair received me in a drawing room where the curtains were drawn despite the afternoon light. He asked after my father, then my mother, then the debts—as if he were checking the pieces on a board before moving one.

“You have been useful at St Agnes,” he said. “A practical girl. My father admires practicality.”

I had never met his father. “I was told he wished for a companion.”

“He does.”

“Then why was the invitation addressed to me?”

His gaze sharpened. “Because you have the right sort of character.”

I wondered whether he meant the sort that could be bought cheaply. “You haven’t asked whether I want the position.”

“Want is a luxury most people grow out of.”

I knew what he was doing. He wanted me to feel the walls before he named the cage. So I asked for the marriage settlement. He laughed, soft and dismissive, then sent for a document that had already been prepared. My family’s debts were itemised. The infirmary’s supply agreement sat beneath them. Even Ned’s apprenticeship had been noted.

I did not read the page twice. Once was enough to understand that refusal would not end with me.

When I left the drawing room, Mrs Vale walked me to the front hall. She did not ask what I had agreed to. Her gaze flicked toward the staircase, where a door stood closed at the landing.

“Lord Reginald is resting,” she said.

“Does he know I’m here?”

A pause. “He knows a marriage has been proposed.”

It was not the same answer.

Outside, Julian waited beside the carriage. I could see the question in his face. I could also see how easily he might turn my refusal into a rescue and call that kindness. So I made the choice before he could make it for me.

“I’m going in,” I said.

“I know.”

“If you mean to stop me, do it now.”

He stepped back. “I won’t.”

That was the first decent thing he did for me. It was also the first thing that made me want to trust him.

A moment later, the housekeeper emerged with an order for the wedding to be held within the week. Lord Reginald’s time was nearly gone.