It seemed today that William’s study was not the comforting haven it generally was.
In fact, he found the silence and order a little grating.
The idyllic blue skies from earlier had faded away, replaced by heavy, bruised-grey clouds, hanging low and threatening rain. There was a great deal of talk about if the weather was about to take a turn, and what could be done about the planning of a hunting excursion and upcoming picnic if it did.
Frankly, William could not have cared less. He was thoroughly sick of smiling and mincing around his mother’s guests, hearing the same platitudes repeated over and over again, not a stitch of meaning in any of them.
“Goodness, look at those clouds! Shall we have rain do you think?”
“We are lucky the weather held for our trip through the Park. Don’t you think so, your Grace?”
“I hope the rain will not ruin our picnic.”
And so on. He’d heard all of the comments, over and over again. Mostly they had come from Miss Bainbridge.
Oh, that wretched girl. William was beginning to feel distinctly ungentlemanly towards her. Her forthrightness and cool, steady logic, which he’d so admired in the early stages of their acquaintance, had been swept away and replaced with nonsense and smooth Society manners. He knew the cause.
She’s no longer certain of me,he thought, biting his lip.Even with the agreement between us. Confident as she is, she sees Miss Brookford as a threat and thinks that she must now work hard to secure me. I’m not a sure affair anymore.
Indeed, that was nonsense. Miss Brookfordhadbeen pleasant to him, that was for sure, but that meant nothing. But Miss Bainbridge clearly believed it and acted accordingly.
What sort of man must I be, to make my betrothedfeel so insecure? I agreed to the match, and there will be no turning back.
It had taken him a full hour to shake her off once he returned home. What on earth would things be like once they were married?
A tap on the door made him jump. William cleared his throat, trying to compose himself.
None of the work on his desk had been looked at, of course. Soon he would have to think about dressing for dinner. How could a whole afternoon slip away?
“Who is it?”
“Only me, your Grace,” came the butler’s familiar voice. “I have brought tea.”
“Oh, excellent. Thank you.”
The butler came in, carrying the tea-things on a highly polished silver tray, bright enough to hurt William’s eyes. He wished, not for the first time, that noteverythingaround him had to be polished to a shine, cleaned and scrubbed and shined until it gleamed.
“I thought I should tell you, your Grace, that one of the young lady guests has been seen heading towards the stables,” the butler said, disapproval heavy in his voice. “Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess, remarked upon it. Shall I fetch her back? I am not sure she was chaperoned, your Grace.”
“I’m sure she won’t come to harm in the stables.”
The butler made a little sound. “That is hardly the point, your Grace.”
“Do tell me you aren’t one of those chaps who think ladies can’t be interested in horses,” William remarked, lifting an eyebrow. The butler said nothing, only poured out a cup of tea. William took a sip. Hewashungry. He’d barely touched his bun, despite the rest of their guests digging in eagerly. Frankly, he found the confectioneries too sweet.
The butler straightened, hesitating. There was clearly more.
“It’s just that…”
“What?” William asked, taking another sip of too-hot tea. He was getting a headache. “What’s the matter?”
“It’s just that a particular horse is out in the paddocks, your Grace. The lady might see it.”
“What does that matter?”
The butler pressed his lips together. “Aparticularhorse, your Grace.”
There was a heartbeat of time before William understood. When he did, a wave of panic flooded through him.
