“I’m selling most of my shares in the bank, Eleanora.”

Ellie left off staring at Elsmore’s chest. “You’re what?”

“I am selling most of my shares in Dorset and Becker. I’ve explained to Walden exactly what has transpired with James, and His Grace is willing to take on the thankless task of putting the place in order. He has the means and temperament to do it. I lack both, and more to the point, I could not be both the head of my family and hold a controlling interest in an institution that employs family members. Cousin Howell needs his job, ergo, I will relinquish a controlling interest in the bank.”

Ellie sidled away, down the bookcase, around Elsmore. She put an enormous globe between them, a fitting metaphor for their situation.

“Walden will sort out Dorset and Becker,” she said, “but you should not have given up your shares. Land rents have done nothing but drop since the war ended, you have few truly commercial ventures compared to many other peers, and your estates are flung all over the realm, making them harder to manage.”

Elsmore wandered off to an orrery positioned before a large window. The planets and their satellites circled the sun in endless orbits, set in motion by a winding mechanism that the duke cranked a few turns.

“And you still think you are not suited to be my duchess,” he said. “Tell me about your parents.”

Why must he seize on that detail now? “I had one of each, a father and a mother. Mama dwells in Normandy, and I’d like to visit her.”

“We can visit her together. Tell me about your father.” Elsmore spoke both gently and implacably.

“You will not let this go.”

“I’ve learned to listen, Eleanora. You taught me that. Tell me the tale, and I’ll listen to every word.”

“I don’t want to say those words.” Didn’t want to think them or acknowledge that they existed. “I want only to balance ledger books and make accounts come right. I am good at it.”

He stood on the other side of the known universe and held out a hand. “Tell me. I love you, and wherever the story leads, you will not journey there alone.”

She wrapped her arms around her middle and kept her gaze on the golden sun at the center of the complicated model. I love you. The last man to make that declaration had come to a very bad end.

I love you, my little Ellie. Be a good girl for Papa. Make me proud of my best girl. Not poetry, not much more than a father’s platitudes, but they’d been his final words to her.

The universe wound to a halt, and still Elsmore stood with his hand outstretched. “Tell me, Eleanora. I’m listening.”