He set the invitation on the table beside his chair. “I assure you I am not.”
“Five years ago, I was to marry an earl who would one day become a duke. You didn’t think my character good enough then?”
“My mother was alive then,” he stated hotly. “I had to choose between which of my two parents I would keep happy.”
She immediately felt contrition. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize she’d passed.”
“Three years ago.”
While she’d been away. Her father hadn’t mentioned his wife’s passing, but then he rarely spoke of his other family—perhaps fearing she might feel diminished in some way. Most of what she knew of the life he’d livedbeyond here she’d gathered from gossip. “It’s hard to lose both parents, especially so closely together.”
Still, she could hardly signify he was attempting a reconciliation at a ball, rather than with a quiet dinner or a tea in the garden or simply a series of visits. “Will your sisters accept my presence at your affair?”
“They will indeed. We’ve discussed it and they are amenable to the idea. Perhaps because our family is suddenly smaller, we’ve come to the realization the members of it are so very important. You will be treated as an honored guest, I assure you. Chidding will no doubt be pleased to have you there, and I have always rather liked the viscount. Knightly is sure to approve.”
“You’ve invited him, in spite of your recent harsh words?”
“One does not snub a man who will, as you so succinctly put it, one day become a duke. We merely had a misunderstanding. I am not one to hold grudges.”
She found that a trifle difficult to believe. “Share with me a memory.”
“Pardon?” He’d sat up straighter, as though she’d suddenly aimed a pistol at him and he was preparing to bolt.
“You’re asking me to put past snubbing aside, and yet I’m not getting a sense of true remorse or even a real desire to know me. If we are to build a bridge, we must at least gather some materials. A memory would be a start, something involving... Father, perhaps.”
He looked like he very much wished he’d accepted her earlier offer of scotch, although the way his gaze wandered around the room, she suspected he wishedhe’d drunk an entire bottle. Finally, his attention landed back on her, while his fingers began their tapping again. “We have a pond on our estate, almost a lake really. We would clamber into a small boat, only he and I, and he’d paddle out to its center. I don’t recall how old I was when we started doing it. I can’t remember a time when we didn’t. When I was four, he finally allowed me to hold a pole by myself. I snagged a catch. Blasted fish pulled me right into the water. I was terrified, thought surely I was going to drown. Father grabbed me by the scruff of my shirt and dragged me out of the abyss. Then he held me tightly. I could feel him shaking.” He cleared his throat. “It’s the only memory I have... where his actions indicated that he might actually treasure me.”
She had never doubted her father’s love, was struggling with the fact this man had. She wanted to know so much more about what their relationship had entailed. Had her father been strict with him? Or had he spoiled and indulged his son as he had her?
“Your memory,” he suddenly snapped gruffly.
Emotions, it seemed, weren’t something with which he was comfortable. Or perhaps he was perturbed that she was asking him to earn her presence at his ball. Still, she smiled warmly. “You were in a play at school, had the role of Hamlet. It was written up in the school newspaper and you were showered with acclaim for your performance. ‘That’s your brother,’ he said. He was quite proud.”
His brow furrowed. “He mentioned me?”
“On the rare occasion.”
“He never mentioned you. We knew about you, of course, gossip and conjecture being what they are, but he never spoke about you... after his initial admittance of your existence.”
The words had come out crisply, like bullets fired by a militia, and she decided he was finding it truly difficult to be here, to offer an olive branch. But she decided he was at least trying, and she dearly wanted to reassure him that they could at least be friends, of a sort.
“I doubt any of you ever asked about me or were comfortable with my existence. Mother and I knew our place in his life. We didn’t mind him talking about you. It gave us a glimpse into a larger part of his world that otherwise would have been kept secret from us. I know what I am, my lord. I don’t fool myself into believing I am otherwise. I shall consider your invitation.”
He stared at her in bewilderment as though he’d come upon a unicorn. Quite suddenly, he lunged to his feet. “Very good. I fear, Miss Leyland, my sisters and I may have done you a disservice all these years.”
She rose. “Society likes to keep us in boxes. I’m glad you’re striving to break free of yours.”
“I’ll see myself out. Good day.”
It wasn’t until she heard the closing of the door that she walked over, picked up the envelope, slipped a fingernail beneath the wax, and pried it loose in order to pull free the invitation.
Lord and LadyBremsfordrequest the honor of your presence...
Her mother had never been allowed to step foot in that residence. She wondered if she dared.
Knightly had returned late from his club to find a missive from Regina:If you would be so kind as to visit this evening, I require your opinion on a matter.
As his carriage carried him toward her residence, he speculated on any number of matters that might require his opinion.
