Page 40 of Manufacturing a Duchess

“Lord, Alec, you are spinning this out interminably. What?”

“Lord and Lady W. have also requested you be a member of the party north.”

“Ah, so they are coming as well? Along with the Incomparable?”

“I assume she will be a member of the party, yes, as Miss H.’s closest friend.”

“Hmm. Then I accept.”

“To which request—mine or theirs?”

“To both. They both have the same aim, do they not? And it will be an excellent opportunity for me to make up my mind about her. Once you have settled your affairs, of course.”

“Thank you, cousin. I am forever in your debt.”

“Think nothing of it.” Finn picked up his coffee and took a sip of the now cooler drink. He idly scraped a fingernail across a knot in the wood of the table. “It is the least I can do for you.”

“What do you mean?”

Finn raised a pair of eyes which Alec could see were warm and frank. He spoke quietly. “Alec, I know how hard it was for you growing up. I know when you were able to visit when we were children, that it was an escape, a respite. It always seemed to me dreadfully unfair I had so much and that you should have it so much harder. I didn’t always fully understand. But I knew.

“You were always so fierce. You never tattled about any of it. But I knew the bruises I saw when you arrived were not from falling off a fence or a horse. Then there was Mary. And Spain. Returning alive simply to find the estate— and then Mary—” Finn broke off. “If there is one human being on this planet whom I would fight to the death to defend, it is you. And I know you feel the same way.

“I want you to be happy, Alec. I envy you Marjorie, but I know she comes with her own set of responsibilities. Will this marriage arrangement be so very distasteful to you?”

Alec cleared his throat a couple of times before he responded. “Marjorie adores her. They have formed a bond already, and I didn’t even know. That is a tale for another time. It will make my daughter happy. As for me? I do not believe it will make me unhappy. More than that, I cannot quite bring myself to contemplate. But mayhap I can start sleeping better at night. And stop worrying.”

“Alec, I have a very strong premonition you and worrying will not be strangers. But in terms of the business of marriage, this gives me some hope. She is young. But I have watched you these past few weeks, and I can see you are at least able to converse with one another.”

“Finn, for me, when all is said and done, I simply want a mother for Marjorie. I have tried to be both mother and father and fear I have made a right hash of it. I have had no exemplar to work from, in terms of either of my parents. In fact, my guiding light has been not to do what either of them did. I hope someday Marjorie can forgive me all of my mistakes. I want her to be happy. I have kept her alive, haven’t I? In spite of all of my daughter’s attempts to put her life in peril with one escapade after another.”

Finn chuckled. “She is most decidedly your daughter, Alec. She has the heart of a lion and the courage of twelve Wellingtons. Bonaparte himself would have surrendered at once if he encountered her on the field. If she has decided Miss Har—Miss H. is worthy of her affections, then I trust her judgement.

“So, yes, I will accompany you north with your marriage party. I shall be ready. And I shall also stand up with you on your marriage day, if you would like.”

“I would like.”

“Good. That’s settled. I suppose now I shall have to tell my mama.”

Alec realized he had forgotten about his aunt. Yes, one more hurdle to face before he left town. He remembered back to that first concert at Lady Hinsdale’s all those weeks ago and his aunt’s all-seeing eye noting Miss Hardcastle and giving him his marching orders. Which, well, yes, he had followed. But he hated admitting to her that she had been right. “I am sure she will be delighted. And have plenty of I told you so’s on offer.”

“Oh, most decidedly. You will receive an invitation to dinner tomorrow night. I have a feeling in my bones a summons will be winging its way to you before the day is out.”

Alec grimaced. “I shall wait for the invitation with bated breath.”

Said invitation was received. Said dinner was endured, along with the anticipated clucks of approbation and pointed triumphant looks of superior wisdom from his formidable aunt. But eventually, that, too, was over. His household was speedily and readily packed up. It was time to leave.

Thirty-One

Whether it was like being caught up in a whirlwind, or falling down into a chaotic dream, it seemed the matter of a moment before Aurora Hardcastle came fully back to herself, blinking and bundled into the Wentworths’ carriage on her way to her parents’ home. The world slid once again into focus, but her shoulders remained up next to her ears. She was not ready to relax yet. They had three days to endure before they arrived.

Three whole days. Packed into a carriage with a glacial Missie. The party’s large size came as a surprise to Aurora. But Lady Wentworth was clearly in charge of the entire operation, so she decided the best way forward was to make a quiet retreat. How bad could it possibly be, she asked herself, juggling her nerves and her eagerness to return home? She soon discovered the answer: an eternity of awfulness.

The horses kept up a good pace as they left the city and headed northward. The day was warm, and the carriage well insulated, so the windows were down in the hope of encouraging a breeze. Aurora was seated on one side (she had graciously consented to ride backward; frankly, she was so excited to be going home, she did not care), with Marjorie tucked up beside her. They faced Missie, whose mask was so tightly held it looked as if it might shatter at any moment. Lastly, the carriage’s full complement included a drowsy Lady Wentworth. That esteemed party was wearing an enormous bonnet adorned with three-fourths of a large bird’s worth of feathers, obviously relieved at least one half of her duties was nearly done, while hopeful that the second was well on its way to being secured.

For not only were Lord Wentworth and Aurora’s intended, the Duke of Selkirk, on horseback accompanying the carriage, but the Duke of Galloway was also riding along with them. Despite the comfort of having Marjorie seated beside her, Aurora had trouble suppressing a most decided feeling of envy of the men’s relative freedom.

The only sounds inside the carriage were an occasional gusty exhale from Missie, the eventual ladylike snores of Lady Wentworth (How can she sleep on these roads, even if this is a well-sprung vehicle, wondered Aurora), and the soft breathing of Marjorie at her side. Missie’s silence was so forbidding that, as the ride continued, the little girl scrunched herself up smaller and smaller in a vain attempt to render herself invisible. Missie, for her part, pointedly ignored Marjorie, with an obvious rejection the child could not help but notice. That morning, when Missie had realized the Duke of Selkirk’s daughter would not only be accompanying them on the ride but joining them in their carriage, her displeasure was clear. Her raised eyebrows telegraphed that she judged the young girl should be travelling with the servants in a secondary equipage. Though she was careful the Duke himself did not see her reaction. Aurora was left with the distinct impression that if Marjorie had found a way to fit herself into a pocket of her light travelling coat and not, simply, under her arm, she would have done so.