Kit pitched his pen across the room. Why was he dithering? Even if Lady Mary was taken, surely he could find someone he could bear to look at over the breakfast table day in and day out. Year in and year out. All he required was a female who didn’t twitter and could hold a conversation about something other than the weather.
He shuddered at the thought of marrying any of the young ladies he’d met over the past year. They’d bore him to death within a month. Probably a week. He almost wished his mother was the type who would make a list of eligible ladies, but she had married for love and expected her children to do so as well.
Damnation. He’d just have to put his mind to it. Someone was bound to come along. Or perhaps he should find an excuse to visit Barham.
A knock sounded at the door. “Come.”
Marcus, Earl of Evesham, strolled in, a wicked grin on his face. Something was up. “Have you heard the news?”
Kit waved his friend to a chair in front of his desk, then handed him a glass of wine. “What news?”
“Serena delivered a girl.”
Kit spit his mouthful of wine back in the glass. Before Robert Beaumont had married the former Lady Serena Weir, he had been the most notorious rake in London. Now he would have a daughter to protect from men such as he was. “You’re joking me?”
“Not at all. Phoebe received word to-day.”
Kit gave a bark of laughter. “Cabined, cribbed, and confined. It serves him right. She’ll run him ragged.”
“Serena writes that the baby already has him wrapped around her fingers.” Marcus chuckled. “And he’s preparing to talk to Angelo about teaching her to use a short sword.”
“I’d love to see Angelo’s face when he receives that request.” In fact, Kit would make a point of it. They could sell tickets.
If anything, Marcus’s grin broadened. “They’ll be in Town in a few weeks, and Phoebe is planning a small get together. Wivenly and his bride will be there as well.”
Life for all of them was changing, and Kit was beginning to feel left out. He was the last of his Oxford friends who was unmarried. By the end of the year, he’d be the only one without a child. He’d have to decide on a bride soon.
Rose Hill, Rosebury
Mary laid down her pen and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Finally all the accounts were in order. She stood, arched her back.
Just as she reached for the bell-pull, a knock came on the door to the office, and Simons entered with a tea tray. “You’ve been cooped up here for so long, my lady, Mrs. Enderson thought you might like some tea.”
“Indeed I would.” Mary smiled. Since the first day, the servants had treated her as if she’d been their mistress for years. They’d wanted and needed direction, which unfortunately did nothing to ease the guilt she felt in living here. “In fact, I’ve just finished for the day. How is Mr. Stuttart doing?”
“Much better, my lady. The plaster you had Cook make seemed to do the trick.”
The poor man had fallen ill with a series of lung complaints lasting all winter. Finally Mary had dug into the books her great-grandmother had kept on household remedies and come up with something that seemed to be working. “Please ask Lady Eunice to join me.”
Simons bowed and left, closing the door behind him. A few minutes later, Eunice entered the room. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes. As soon as Mr. Stuttart is able to work again, we should make plans to leave. The upcoming Season will be all the explanation we need.”
Eunice sat, poured a cup of tea and handed it to Mary. “Are you sure you wish to go to Town this year?”
Mary sank into a large leather chair. “No, but I think I have been here long enough, and I have a feeling I should move on, before we are found out, or Gawain finds me.”
Eunice stared out the window for a few moments with her brow furrowed before responding, “I see your point, but the fact remains that you are safe here.”
Tears threatened to clog Mary’s throat. She couldn’t wait much longer. All her friends were married and having babies. If she didn’t wed soon, the chance to have a family of her own might be lost to her. “Don’t you see, Aunt Eunice? I want to marry. It is as if life is passing me by. If I can find someone to marry, once I am betrothed, the court will have to act. My uncle cannot arbitrarily withhold his consent.”
“You could allow Mama to make a match for you.”
“No. I want to fall in love. You had the opportunity to wed the one you loved, as did my mother and brother. I just want the same chance.” Surely there was a man who could love her for herself and not her dowry or her face. Someone kind, who would love and cherish her and their children.
“Yes. I see your point.” Eunice took a sip of tea. “I shall write to Mama.”
Mary put her cup down. “I’m going into Rosebury. Would you like to come with me?”
