Mrs. Houston gave her an understanding nod. “Where did you end up?”

Lottie let out a breath. “I went to the village my parents visited on their honeymoon.”

“Oh, my dear. No wonder Alec found you.” The sadness behind her words turned Lottie’s heart inside out. “But, he did not return to England?”

Lottie fiddled with the edge of her saucer as her throat tightened. “He thought it for the best,” she said hoarsely. “We…we quarreled before I left.” She had to look away from Mrs. Houston’s sympathetic gaze. “But that’s not why I’m here. It’s Uncle Alfred. He isn’t well.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

“I know,” Mrs. Houston said. “But he’s being taken care of. I hired Mrs. Ragmoore myself.”

“But why did he send you away?”

A faint tremor of emotion passed over the housekeeper’s face until she mastered it. Mrs. Houston swallowed hard. “I must respect his decision.”

“His or Mr. Wetherby’s?”

“You weren’t here, Lottie,” she frowned. “It was only natural for Mr. Wetherby to handle the arrangements. The doctors thought it best if your uncle had as much peace as possible until he regained his strength.”

Lottie shook her head as her mind whirled. There was so much Mrs. Houston didn’t know. “This morning Uncle Alfred told me I was to marry Mr. Wetherby. This afternoon.”

Mrs. Houston’s teacup clattered against the saucer. “What?”

Lottie explained her uncle’s reasoning, along with Mr. Wetherby’s role in the charade. “I think Uncle Alfred has been in decline for much longer than anyone realized,” Lottie added, voicing the theory she had been piecing together since the previous night. It was the only thing that could explain his increasingly erratic behavior over the past year. “Mr. Wetherby likely knew from the start because they work so closely together. That meant he could manipulate the situation for his own gain.”

Which explained why Mr. Wetherby’s aunt, of all people, had been deemed a proper companion for her. And why they needed to be married while her uncle still had some control over her finances.

Mrs. Houston brought a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Lottie,” she gasped. “I—I think you’re right. I saw he was growing more short-tempered, more forgetful, but I thought it was just due to his age. And Mr. Wetherby always seemed so competent. I thought he was good for Sir Alfred.”

Lottie furrowed her brow. “The only part that doesn’t fit is sending Alec for me. That could have ruined Mr. Wetherby’s plans.”

“That was my idea,” Mrs. Houston said sheepishly. “Your uncle was so worried. Mr. Wetherby offered to go, but he had never been to Italy and—and Alec was already there. It seemed like the best choice. He went searching for you immediately. Your uncle fell ill only a few days later.”