Was it a game? Or was he developing feelings that were growing a little too strong to ignore? What if those feelings were leading somewhere? Thatsomewherebeing a place he’d claimed he would never go?
If it were so, there would be certain…hurdles to jump.
For one, she had insisted she would never marry.
For another,hehad insisted he would never marry. Loudly. Vociferously. Repeatedly.
For another, he had taken certain steps to stop his friends from marrying.
His had been a firm decision, well thought out. Was he just to throw it over? How would it even be done? What was he to say to his friends?
See here, I realize I have been against the thing, but now I find I’m not. And if you will be so good as to not remind me of anything I have said, and definitely not remind me of anything I havedone, that would be convenient.
His scar burned just thinking about it.
Charles paused. It occurred to him that what he’d just been thinking about had nothing to do with his original impediments. He was supposed to be opposed to marriage because of what he’d seen in the war. He was supposed to remain firm in not producing children who might go off to war themselves. That had been the beginning of everything.
Where had that idea gone? Why was the impediment now to be what his friends, or everybody who ever knew him, would make of it? Was that really an impediment at all? Might not a man develop different opinions over time? Was a man to be saddled with a particular opinion for a lifetime? Should one’s friends hold a person to an opinion forever?
Charles stood up and paced the small sitting room. “I think not,” he said. “And as to that, might not a woman change her opinion too? After all, must they not be given the same rights?”
“Must who be given the same rights, my lord?”
Charles spun around and found Bellamy standing in his doorframe, carrying a tray.
“Nobody, never mind,” Charles said.
As Bellamy carried the tray to the rickety table he dined on, Charles said, “By the by, we will remain here for another month, then to Somerset to Lord Burke’s wedding. I know not where we go after that.”
Bellamy set the tray down with a clatter. “Here? We stay here? I was sure we were to be off. The boys and me would go to the London house while you fanned about the countryside for the shooting.”
“I don’tfan aboutanywhere,” Charles said.
Bellamy uncovered the tray and looked sadly down at the beef and roasted vegetables that sat on the plate. “I was counting on leaving the plaguey tornado behind!”
“I presume by that colorful description that you are still being overcome by Mrs. Broadbent.”
“As ever,” Bellamy said. “It’s like we’ve all joined a militia—one step out of line and a string of what-fors rains down upon our heads.”
“It can’t be all bad,” Charles said, finding some amusement in his butler’s defeat. “You did win the argument about the drinking chocolate.”
Bellamy straightened himself and got a faraway look, as if he were a retired general recalling a successful campaign fought against all odds. “Indeed I did.Decisively, I might add. Furthermore, as the weather cools, I will demand an increase. If she dares cross me on the subject,Iwill be the one raining down the what-fors! Just see if I don’t!”
The butler turned on his heel and marched out, steaming back to the house. The cat had got to the tray as soon as it was uncovered, sniffed at the vegetables, and slinked off with a large slab of beef. Charles assumed she was eating it under his bed, as that seemed to be her preferred dining room.
So this was what his life had come to—the uncomfortable knowledge that he might have gone slightly offtrack with his vow to stay a bachelor forever, a butler who thought he might air his grievances at any and all hours, and a cat who made off with a good part of his dinner.
Thank God Flanagan had sent over a bottle of wine.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
For some days, Daisy had watched Lord Dalton’s bench inch closer to the house. Not even inching, as it had been, now it was progressing by feet at a time.
It was alarming, but she was not unhappy about it. She just did not quite understand it. Where was he going? What was he doing? How close would he come?
As had been her habit all summer, she blew out the last candle and sat by the open window, moving the curtain aside ever so slowly and quietly.
She ought not to be doing it, not because there was anything particularly wrong in it, but it really was getting too cool at night for it to be at all sensible. The change in the weather had come on suddenly, as it often did. The mild nights had been changed to crisper and cooler, with a distinct feeling that autumn was not far off. She was wrapped in a heavy dressing gown as if it were January and had requested the housemaids build a fire, all to sit by an open window. They likely thought she was mad.
