“Hodge?” Aaran sat forward again. “I thought,” he began, but he did not want to disclose that Thompson had already shared this information. “Hodge is twice Lady Freya’s age. Is the baronet not still in mourning for his wife?” Like it or not, and Aaran assuredly did not like the smugness marking Lady Annalise’s features, he could not disguise his dismay. “How does Lady Freya feel about these choices?”
Lady Annalise smiled knowingly, which continued to irritate Aaran, but he held his tongue, while she said, “Lord Cunningham has indicated that Hodge’s year of mourning endsin March, and the baronet wishes to remarry in June or July. Sir Patrick still requires an heir. I have not taken the baronet’s acquaintance, but Beaufort says the man was close to Cunningham’s age. Lady Freya is appalled by the prospects.”
“I am well aware of Hodge’s age,” Aaran murmured, as his mind raced for a solution. “Still, there is little I can do. Cunningham would never permit me to court his daughter.”
“But you would be interested in doing so?” Lady Annalise asked with a lift of inflection in her voice.
“Wipe that smile from your lips, Lady Beaufort,” Aaran warned, yet his own heart was calling for succor.
Her Ladyship reached for his hand, and he interlaced their fingers. “What would you say if we asked Mrs. Dove-Lyon to arrange a marriage for Lady Freya? You could be one of the contenders for Lady Freya’s hand and prove yourself worthy. Lady Orson thinks it would be a good idea. Orson claims Sir Patrick is too poor to bid on the girl, but obviously you are…”
“Why involve Mrs. Dove-Lyon?” Aaran asked. “I could offer Cunningham more than Sir Patrick. Even Freya’s father is not so foolish to turn down what I can bring to the table.”
“Well… You see, when we had tea yesterday, Lady Emma convinced Lady Freya that it might be possible for Mrs. Dove-Lyon to arrange a marriage with a worthy suitor. If I know Emma, the wheels are already in motion, with Lord Cunningham not having a clue.”
Chapter Five
“Aaran!” a familiarvoice called as Graham entered White’s, and he turned to view his half brother striding towards him with his arms open for a masculine embrace.
“Boyde!” Aaran’s arms laced about the young man. “What are you doing in London? Tell me you are not again in trouble with Lady Graham,” he said with a smile. Odd as it would be for others to understand, Aaran never wished to displace Boyde as the 11th Earl Graham. He had always liked the young boy, who was a bit short of being five years Aaran’s junior.
Aaran had spent his first years on this earth by being abandoned by his own mother and then by living on a tenant farm on Duncan’s Scottish estate. Meanwhile, Lord Aaran Graham, the 10th Earl Graham, had ignored Aaran’s existence, going about his life and begetting two more children, both girls, with a variety of females.
Naturally, Aaran knew nothing of this until much later in his life. He learned it after his father married Lady Eímear Boyde and begot a son and then, a bit over a year later, died of a broken neck, resulting from a fall from a barn’s roof while in a drunken stupor. No one knew why Aaran Graham, the senior had been upon the barn’s roof, but most believed he had chasedthe milkmaid up there. Those who viewed the scene said the maid had crawled upon the roof to escape her master’s demands. Several on the estate spoke of His Lordship abusing many of those who were employed to serve him.
Naturally, Aaran had not even known he was a Graham until well after his father’s death. He had thought himself to be Aaran Lessier. He had forgotten his mother’s betrayal and was happy on a tenant farm. That is, until Lord Macdonald Duncan changed everything. The lord and lady of the manor had brought Aaran to live with them with a promise to train him to be a “better Lord Graham” than had been his father.
And he had been, at least he prayed he had, but a secret part of him still wished to have known his rascal father—to have looked upon the 10th Earl Graham in real life and not simply in a portrait hanging on the wall of his manor house. To have his real father acknowledge him and not throw him away, like one would pitch out the bath water.
“Did you not know that Mother has recently remarried?” Boyde asked.
Aaran swallowed the word “again” and instead said, “How is Lady…?” He was not confident which name his stepmother was currently using. This would be the woman’s second marriage since Aaran’s father’s passing. It seemed to him, and likely to many, that Lady Eímear hadlosta number of husbands in such a short lifetime, especially as Lord Roland passed within three years of marrying the lady. That was nearly ten years ago.
“She is now Lady Rayland, an English baroness, so she might host house parties and the like,” Boyde said with a grin. His brother directed Aaran to a nearby table. “I hear Lord Thompson is to marry soon. I came here this evening in hopes of encountering you, or at least one of your Duncan brothers to let you know I was in Town. Thought we might spend some timetogether if you are not too busy with other affairs.” Meaning Duncan and Aaran’s responsibility to the Home Office.
Aaran kept the frown from his forehead. Generally, Boyde avoided comments about Duncan’s role in removing Boyde from the direct line of succession for the earldom. “I have some specific duties to Lord Thompson, for I am to stand with him in His Lordship’s wedding ceremony, but I would be pleased to ride over to Rayland’s estate, so we might find something productive to entertain the Grahams. Tell me more about your mother’s marriage and your last year at university.” He motioned for meals and drinks to be served. Aaran had come to White’s in hopes of finding one of his ‘brothers’ there so he might pass along a message to Duncan and the Home Office. He had received word regarding the Luddites recently captured and placed in several of London’s prisons and their reaction to the hangings in York. It appeared a few more uprisings were being planned. Aaran had duties to the government, but, first, he had a duty to the young man with whom he shared blood.
Freya did notknow what she had done to garner God’s good graces, but she had spent more than a few minutes this morning on her knees in praise. It seemed that her mother and father had been invited to the wedding celebration of the son of a close colleague of her father in the Lords and said event just happened to overlap closely with the one being planned by Miss Whitchurch and Lord Thompson.
“I suppose you could stay with Imelda in our absence,” her mother said as she spread honey on her toast.
“Are not Imelda and Dickerson visiting with his parents that week? Something about Lord Dickerson’s grandmother,” Freya said with as much casualness as she could muster.
“Your father always makes these plans without consulting me,” her mother grumbled. “There will not be so many young people there. Nothing like a summer house party. In fact, the invitation only lists your father’s name. I am included as ‘spouse.’”
“I could perhaps visit Aunt Felicity instead. Uncle Philip broke his ankle recently. I could assist Auntie with his care. How long might you be gone?” Freya infused her tone with innocence.
“Yours is a reasonable solution. I would rather you were in Felicity’s care,” her mother admitted pensively, “and I imagine she is at her wit’s end. All men are poor patients, but Philip Turner has stubborn down to a science. Perhaps I should write to Felicity and offer your services. Your father is thinking of investing in a canal in Norfolk, so I imagine we will be away for at least a fortnight.”
“It has been more than a year since I have spent time with Aunt Felicity. I could assist her with parish calls or transcribe Uncle’s sermon for him,” Freya suggested in carefully controlled tones.
Her mother paused in contemplation. “Perhaps we should not inform your father of your joining Felicity. Do not lie to him if he specifically asks you, however…”
“Permit him to believe I am with Imelda,” Freya suggested.
“It will be easier for both of us,” her mother murmured with a deep frown.
Four ladies ofsociety stepped down before the pale-blue house in Whitehall. Freya stood beside the coach and looked off in awe. “It appears so ordinary,” she murmured.
