At Ashford Hall, the same news arrived and was in Dorian’s hand as he drank his tea at the stable gate. The messenger had spoken quickly, too quickly, as though he did not want to be theone to inconvenience him. Dorian, however, was not concerned at all. He had seen it all coming and was more than prepared for it.
“Yorkshire is speaking of it already, Your Grace,” the messenger had said. “The marriage. The engagement. It has reached three estates before midday.”
Dorian did not respond at first. He only stared past the messenger toward the open stable doors. Behind him, Diamond shifted restlessly in his stall, sensing tension even if he could not name its cause.
“I see,” he said simply.
The messenger lingered a moment longer, uncertain whether dismissal had been implied. When Dorian did not elaborate, he bowed and left, his footsteps fading into the yard beyond.
A short while later, Tristan Vale, his friend and the Viscount Harrow, arrived. He entered the stable with the ease of a man who treated other people’s problems as entertainment. He was tall, sharply dressed, and carried an expression of amused curiosity that suggested he had already heard everything and intended to enjoy hearing it again.
Fortunately for him, Dorian needed someone to talk to about it all, and it so happened that Tristan was one of his closest friends.
“Well,” Tristan drawled, glancing around the stables, “I leave for a few days and return to find you have committed social chaos on a provincial scale.”
“Good morning to you as well.”
Tristan leaned lightly against a wooden post. “Is it true?”
“That entirely depends on what you are referring to.”
“Well,” Tristan asked, “are you engaged to Lady Anne Carlisle, or have you simply started a rumor so impressive that even I am struggling to keep up?”
“I do not start rumors. I simply have them start about me.”
“And…?”
There was a pause.
“Engaged.”
Tristan let out a quiet laugh. “Good God.”
“Is that all you can offer?”
“I am considering whether congratulations are appropriate or whether I should begin preparing for your funeral,” Tristanreplied pleasantly. “Given your history, both feel equally plausible.”
“It is a practical arrangement.”
“That is what men say when they have done something entirely impractical,” Tristan said. “It is almost poetic.”
Dorian ignored that. “The estate requires stability, and this marriage secures it.”
“And Lady Anne?”
“She secures the horse.”
Tristan raised a brow. “Ah. Truly, such a beautiful romance.”
“Do not start.”
“I have barely begun,” Tristan replied, smiling now. “Tell me, does she know she is saving your reputation through a very stubborn animal?”
“She agreed to the terms.”
“Of course she did,” Tristan said lightly. “Women rarely refuse a man who can provide a life that you would. She would have been foolish not to.”
Dorian shot him a look. “You are enjoying this.”
