To Freya’s misery, the woman’s gaze remained on His Lordship and his on her, but worse, the lady was the most beautiful woman Freya had ever beheld. Perhaps more beautiful than Lady Emma Orson, if that were possible.
Freya turned to look upon Lord Graham, who held himself so perfectly still that one would think him a statue. Her stomach soured. Freya did not have to be a genius to know that Lord Aaran Graham had once held the dark-headed, violet-eyed woman in great favor. Freya attempted not to know complete devastation, but she was not strong enough to disguise her emotions.
“Who is she?” she whispered, not even realizing she had said the words aloud until they were spoken.
“Lady Rhonda Hightower,” Lord Graham answered. “After services today, Boyde told me that his mother and Lord Rayland were in negotiations with Lady Rhonda’s grandmother for a marriage between my brother and the lady.”
Having to know the truth, Freya continued to study Lord Graham. She knew him inherently honest, and he would not present her a falsehood. “What does the lady mean to you? Even I know that Lady Rayland does nothing that is not designed to bring you harm.”
“I once asked permission to propose to Lady Rhonda,” he said softly, “a year or so before her father passed. However, as it is with your father, Lady Rhonda’s relations would not align their family with my father’s bastard son. Now that they are all out of mourning, they seek a mate for the lady.”
“I now understand why you could not consider a mousy red-headed girl who is sprinkled with freckles. You aspire to something higher. Someone more sophisticated. Someone who can advance your place in society with her position and connections. I wish you had explained things. Had spoken of your aspirations. You should have said you sought a woman of Lady Emma’s nature and stature, not ‘a walking piece of kindness like Lady Annalise,’ as you have termed me.” She fought back her tears. “I have promised Miss Whitchurch that I will attend her wedding. Afterwards, I shall ask my uncle if he will return me to London where I shall await my parents and know their thoughts on my future.”
She swallowed hard. “If and when you speak of this indiscretion, please do not laugh at my naïveté. Schoolgirl hopes can seem that way. Pardon me, my dearest Lord Graham, for embarrassing and inconveniencing you.”
Freya turned away, and like it or not, and she did not like it, she caught her skirt and scurried away as fast as she could run. She required distance between reason and her broken heart.
Chapter Thirteen
“Where have youbeen?” Duncan asked Aaran when Graham entered the sitting room where His Lordship was enjoying the fire. “We missed you at service. I thought perhaps your leg was bothering you, but Mr. Boone said you had gone out.”
Aaran was glad the others were not also present, for he was not prepared for a barrage of questions from all fronts, at least not yet. He was still digesting what all he had observed and learned today, and he was smarting from Lady Freya’s rebuke. “I attended Mr. Turner’s service. I wanted to see if all at Rayland Hall would be at church. I purposely entered just as the door was being closed. Stood along the wall with the servants. I thought not to be seen, but Boyde sought me out after the service, which means the Rayland household knew of my presence in the church, for Boyde is not one to keep a secret.”
“MacAlasdair sat with the family?” Duncan asked.
“He sat closer to Lady Rayland than did His Lordship. I had expected for MacAlasdair to reach for the Lady Rayland’s hand,” Aaran explained.
“Something is no longer rotten in Denmark, but rather in Kent,” Duncan observed with a sad shake of his head. “I hateit for Benjamin who must tolerate such tomfoolery just as he is ready to settle with a wife and the hope of children.”
Aaran swallowed his unspoken comment about how everyone but him would know happiness. Instead, he said, “I was thinking of returning to London early.”
“You are to stand with Thompson,” Duncan reminded him. “Why would you consider such a bit of madness? You made a promise to your brother.”
“I wish to protect Benjamin and Miss Whitchurch,” Aaran responded. “My stepmother has apparently concocted some bizarre plan to bring me harm. After services today, Boyde informed me that Her Ladyship and Rayland are in negotiation for a marriage between Lady Rhonda Hightower and my brother.”
“Are you confident this is true?” Duncan inquired.
“The lady and her paternal grandmother arrived on Rayland’s estate shortly after services, which means they were likely housed somewhere nearby. They were in an open landau, indicating they did not travel far in February weather, even though it has been milder than usual. I did not view either during services, but, then again, I was not aware of this business so I was watching the others.”
“Including Lady Freya?” Duncan asked with a lift of his brows.
“I have repeatedly said I will not pursue Cunningham’s daughter,” Aaran repeated in the same autocratic tones as he had used previously. Even so, his pulse should not have kicked up a notch with just the mention of the woman, but it did. “Moreover, I was speaking to Lady Freya when the Hightower carriage passed us on the main road to the estate. The dowager baroness’s driver did not slow down as he passed Lady Freya as she stepped to the verge of the road. I had moved to a position tosnatch her back if she was in danger, but other than a bit of dust, such was not necessary.”
“And?” Duncan asked with emphasis. “There is more you are not sharing.”
Aaran swallowed his desire to bolt from the room or tell Duncan what occurred was none of his concern. Instead, he admitted, “Lady Freya noted my surprise at seeing Lady Rhonda again. I was not aware of her being in the neighborhood, just of her family’s negotiations with mine.”
“And Lady Freya saw through your explanation?” Duncan asked with a lift of his brows in obvious confirmation.
“She did. Lady Freya means to stay until Victoria and Benjamin are married. It was her promise to Miss Whitchurch. Then she will ask her uncle to return her to London.”
“Do you approve of the lady’s decision?” Duncan asked.
“I have no right to interfere with her choices,” Aaran said dutifully.
“I held no right to pursue my Elsbeth. Her father was already in negotiations with Lord Ainsworth for a match with Ainsworth’s second son. Hope does not know an end until the vows are pronounced,” Duncan declared. “Do you desire…”
“Do not ask me what I cannot answer,” Aaran instructed. “My relationship with Lady Freya…” He sighed heavily. “It is more than a friendship, but it must remain a friendship—both of us reaching for more, but our hopes are defined by fear. She fears her life with Sir Patrick. I fear my chance at happiness is slipping through my fingers. Neither of us can dare admit to anything like love, and we both know lust and gratitude are not the bricks upon which we should build a future.”
