All the more reason to visit her in her new lodgings. With a quick prayer for assistance from the Almighty with his planned visit, Rowles quickly washed up in his rooms, then called for his carriage to be brought around. The arranged house wasn’t a far drive, and he could take in the air and walk, but he decided the privacy of a carriage was most apt.

In case things did go badly.

One never knew.

Which was all the more reason to take precautions.

Soon he stepped into his carriage and leaned back against the plush velvet while his two bays led the way to the new lodgings where his mother resided. They left the square and moved past the park, then turned left for a few blocks till the carriage paused in front of a perfectly respectable stone town house with lovely hedgerows lining the walk. A vine of some sort climbed up the front of the house and lent a welcome atmosphere, but Rowles’s heart pounded in his chest. Before he knocked, the door opened wide, revealing a sturdy man with bushy eyebrows. “Your Grace.” He bowed, his accent decidedly country. “An honor. I am Waitsberry, the butler, among other things.”

“Thank you, Waitsberry.” Rowles studied the man, deciding that he was quite likable; there was something sincere about his demeanor.

“Allow me to show you to the parlor, or would you like a tour of the home? How may I assist you, Your Grace?” the butler asked, clearly eager to please.

Rowles turned to the expectant man. “I believe I’ll confer with the nurses first.”

“Of course. Right this way, Your Grace.” The stout man bustled down the hall, a limp to his walk.

The house was pleasing. It wasn’t opulent or stylish, but held a well-built quality that made it feel secure and safe. The wooden floor was worn but polished, and the plaster on the walls was freshly painted. A parlor to the right held windows that spilled cheery light into the otherwise dim hall, and as they took the stairs, Rowles noted they squeaked only slightly—admirable for a home of this age.

Waitsberry led him down the hall on the second floor and paused as he came to a woman in nurse’s garb. “Mrs. Leyton.” He nodded.

Her eyes lowered and she curtsied upon seeing Rowles. “Your Grace. How may I assist you?”

Waitsberry gave a generous bow and started back down the hall, allowing Rowles some much-appreciated privacy. “I have been informed that the transition went well, and I want to see her condition for myself.”

“Of course,” the nurse quickly agreed. “And yes, the move went smoothly, though I will add that we did not lighten her dosage until recently. She’s starting to wake, so she may not have understood what took place, Your Grace.”