Elodie spoke up, her tone decisive. “I doubt I will ever get married. I see no point in losing my freedoms for a chance at love.”
“I support your decision, Sister,” Winston stated. “Perhaps you can help me run my sheep farm.”
Perking up, Elodie declared, “I would greatly enjoy running a sheep farm.”
Lady Dallington let out a heavy sigh. “You two are incorrigible,” she stated with exasperation in her voice. “I do not know what I am going to do with either of you.”
Finding herself curious, Mattie asked Elodie, “Do you know anything about sheep?”
Elodie’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “I know if you see a sheep on its back that you must roll it to its side,” she replied. “Other than that, I am at a loss. But I can learn.”
“Why don’t you focus on the upcoming Season first?” Lady Dallington asked. “You never know, you may enjoy all the social events that London has to offer.”
“I truly doubt that,” Elodie responded.
Lady Dallington turned her attention towards Mattie. “Did you speak to your father about my offer to host you for the Season?”
“I did, and he is still mulling it over,” Mattie said. Shedidn’t wish to reveal that he hadn’t been keen on the idea, but she hoped he would reconsider—for her sake.
With a reassuring smile, Lady Dallington remarked, “I am sure he will see the wisdom in it. It would be a wonderful opportunity for you.”
Mattie returned her smile, albeit a bit forced. “I hope so,” she said, though doubt lingered in her mind.
Fortunately, Elodie must have sensed the tension because she interjected, “Well, if you don’t attend the Season, you could always help run the sheep farm with us.”
Winston chuckled. “Indeed, the more the merrier.”
Chapter Seven
Winston took a sip of his tea as he listened to the conversation going on around him. He knew his mother meant well in wishing that he should marry, but it wasn’t that simple. He had made the mistake of being vulnerable with Mattie, and she had betrayed him. The pain of that experience had left him resolute in his decision: it was better to be alone.
Quite frankly, he deserved that after what he had done with his life. He didn’t deserve to be happy.
Grady stepped into the drawing room, his usually composed face shadowed with an uncharacteristic solemnity. He caught Winston’s eyes. “May I speak to you for a moment, my lord?” he requested, his tone grave.
Winston nodded, placing his teacup back on the tray. “Yes, of course,” he replied. “Excuse me, ladies.” He rose and followed Grady into the entry hall, his mind racing. For the Bow Street Runner to interrupt him like this, something significant must have occurred.
Once they were alone, Grady turned to him, keeping his voice low. “Isaac is in the study, waiting on Lord Dallington, but his lordship is in a meeting with the vicar and the solicitor of the village.”
“I shall handle it, then,” Winston stated.
Without waiting for a response, Winston strode towards the study, determination in every step. He would confront Isaac and speak his mind, father or no father. Just as he was about to enter the room, Grady stopped him by placing an arm on his sleeve.
“Before you go in,” Grady began, his voice steady but urgent, “remember to not give anything away.”
Winston frowned, feeling a twinge of offense at such an insulting remark. “I am a trained barrister. I assure you that won’t be a problem.”
Grady withdrew his hand. “Would you like me to accompany you?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Then I shall wait outside the door,” Grady informed him, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Winston acknowledged Grady’s words with a brief nod before he stepped into the study. His eyes sought out Isaac, who stood near the fireplace. Isaac was tall, heavy-set, and had his black hair slicked to one side.
Isaac’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “I asked to speak to Lord Dallington, not you, my lord,” he grumbled.
“You know who I am?” Winston asked.
