They had left Sheffield Hall early enough that she arrived home shortly before noon. She noted a black horse secured to a post out front and assumed it was Winslow or Kittridge come to call. She was hoping for Kit as she wanted to indulge in a short nap before addressing any concerns that Winslow might bring with him regarding his estate and lack of funds. She really needed to find someone to take him in hand and help him adjust to his duties, because Lushing’s passing had left him in a boat with no oar or rudder. As she darted up the steps, it occurred to her that the Duke of Thornley might be just the ticket, an excellent example to follow. While she knew him fairly well, it wasn’t well enough to impose but perhaps Aiden could make the suggestion to Thornley. It would be lovely to have one fewer sibling to worry over.

She opened the door, crossed the threshold, and came to a stop as though she’d slammed into a brick wall. Not Kit or Winslow.

Her butler dipped his head slightly. “Your Grace, I was just explaining to Lord Elverton that you were not in residence.”

“Yet here you are,” Elverton said, his smile a bit too bright. Aiden had not inherited the shape of his mouth from his father.

“I’ve only just returned from Sheffield Hall and am quite weary. How might I be of service, my lord?”

“I was hoping for a few minutes of your time, perhaps a spot of tea.”

She wondered if his presence indicated he gave no credence to whatever threat his son had made or if he was marking his defiance of it. “If you’ll give me a moment to right myself, I’ll join you in the parlor. Wiggins, see that tea is brought in.”

Making her way to the stairs, she was grateful he’d caught her after traveling, when she wore black, rather than after a night at the club when she was decked out in blue. In her rooms, she removed her hat, washed her face, tidied her hair, and fortified herself for a social call she had little doubt would turn out to be beyond the pale. He’d already offered his condolences. What more was there for him to say?