“I am not looking forward to the ship,” John groaned, “but in general, I am happy to be going back to England.”
“You are not sad to be leaving someone behind?”
“Oh,” John finally understood, “she is coming with me.”
“She is?!” Luke was stunned. “You think she is fit for the next countess?”
John narrowed his eyebrows in thought. “I had not really thought of it that way, but yes, I would imagine so. She has a fine bloodline. Strong legs.”
Legs?Luke blushed.Why did John have information about her legs?“Well, when do I get to meet her?”
John shrugged. “We can go now if you wish.”
At Luke’s embarrassed nod, John changed the direction of their course, and the two soon found themselves outside a small, wooden house. It was not an impressive place, and Luke had a hard time imagining a future countess coming from such humble beginnings. John dismounted and tied his mount to the post. Luke followed suit. As they neared the building, the baron recognized it as not a house, but a stable.
“Her name is Lightning,” John called over his shoulder as he threw open the splintered wood door.
A beautiful, young, chestnut thoroughbred with two white socks cantered up to John, nuzzling his hand. “She is a horse!” Luke realized with both annoyance and relief.
“Of course she is!” John gave him a funny look. “What were you expecting?”
“From you?” Luke laughed, “Nothing else! Oh, your mother is not going to be happy about this!”
“Perhaps she won’t notice,” John said hopefully, but the man was delusional to think he could get anything past Lady Merritt.
“Well, when she does find out, make sure she knows it was all your idea, and I tried to stop you.”
“You are going to try and stop me?” John fed the mare a handful of oats.
Luke shrugged. “Just tell her I did.” He gave the horse a pat. “She is a pretty one.”With strong legs.
They closed the stable back up and mounted again. They were halfway home when John asked, “Did you really think I was secretly meeting a woman this whole time?” He sounded amused.
“It was my mother’s idea,” Luke defended.
John rolled his eyes. “Well, when I do find a woman, you will be the first to know. I promise.” Luke nodded in thanks, and then the two took turns predicting John’s mother’s reaction to a new horse, particularly one John paid to ship over from Spain. It was a fun game, but a pretty scary reality. Luke was grateful her anger would be directed at someone else.
Rosecrest Estate
Though she had sent no messenger informing of her arrival, Mother did not seem the least bit surprised at Clara’s appearance. In spite of the fact she had adrawing room full of visitors, at the sight of her daughter, the countess rushed from her hosting duties, silently following Clara up to her room.
“He proposes on Friday?” she asked. It was truly more a statement than a question. Of course Mother knew the London gossip.
“He asked Papa for permission this morning.”
She simply nodded. They reached Clara’s bedchamber, and Mother helped Clara take off her travel dress. “Are you going to accept his offer?” She tried to sound indifferent, but Clara thought she detected a slight hint of displeasure. Though, she knew it was quite possibly her own feelings that made it sound that way.
“I have no idea,” Clara whispered, feeling the tears coming. “I do not know what I want.”
Mother rubbed her back affectionately. “I am sure we can figure that out.” She helped Clara sit at the vanity chair, running a thick brush through her hair. “We shall look at it in a different way.” She paused, tipping her chin upwards slightly. “That’s it! Close your eyes!” Clara promptly obeyed. “Imagine yourself five years from now. You are beautiful, of course, and happy.”
Happy?Clara mentally scoffed.Then I did not marry the duke.But surely it could not be as simple as that.
Mama set the hairbrush back on the vanity top, her voice quickening in excitement. “Imagine your drawing room, the curtains, the tea table …” Clara did her best to envision the room. It was symmetrical, a fireplace in the middle, flanked on both sides by matching sofas. “Now, picture me there as well. I have come to pay you a visit and to see my grandchildren. Tell me, what are they like?”
So Clara mentally walked Mother upstairs to the nursery.I finally painted the nursery rhyme figures, she thought, as she fictitiously stepped over to two little beds. “They are still quite young,” she whispered, “the older one is Matthew. It was an easy name to agree on.”
“Yes, I am sure it was.” Clara could hear the smile in her mother’s voice. “What does little Matthew look like?”
