Page 18 of The Earl and His Lady

In a short while, he was riding onto the Gilberts’ property. The month of May had bestowed another sunny day on the countryside, for which he was grateful. The green lawns and brightly colored flowers rolled out from the Gilbert house like a carpet.

After dismounting, Lucas looped the reins of his horse through an obliging pole and went to the door. He was admitted to a downstairs parlor and waited for Lady Heatherton to appear.

Lucas set his folder down on a table and paced to the window overlooking the rear gardens, noticing Mrs. Gilbert at work clipping flowers. He smiled, remembering her deliveries of fragrant blooms to his home.

The door clicked open. Lucas turned to greet the baroness, a ready smile on his face, but it faltered when he saw her expression.

She appeared as lovely as before, her blonde hair half down this time, a bandeau holding it back from her face. Her gown was muted gray, which made the somber look in her green eyes all the more foreboding. What could be wrong?

“My lady.” He bowed, then took several steps forward. “Is something amiss?”

She returned the courtesy and shook her head. “Not at all.” Her words did not match her expression in the least. “Please, my lord, won’t you sit down?” She gestured to an empty chair.

Lucas hesitated, his mind racing across the boundaries of propriety. They were betrothed, though hardly familiar with each other, making the lines of permissible conversation and concern blur. But if she was troubled, he ought to try to help.

“Lady Heatherton.” He took the offered seat but leaned forward, fixing his eyes on hers. “I can see something of a somber nature is on your mind. If you insist it is nothing, I will take you at your word, but know that I would like to be aware of your troubles.”

She lowered herself into the chair nearest his, though there was still a distance of three feet between them. She bit her bottom lip, considering him and his words.

“Very well. I suppose it is silly to stand on ceremony, considering our last meeting ended with our engagement.” The words, though said evenly, gave him hope she was a woman of good humor. “I have had two letters today. One is from my friend, Mr. Olivier, who has been advising me legally. The other is from my brother-in-law.”

“And which letter has upset you?” In possession of his own letter from the barrister, he felt he already knew the answer to his question.

“Mr. Macon, my brother-in-law, has discovered I am staying in this house. He wrote in a most determined manner that he wishes to see his nephews. To ascertain they are being cared for.” Her hands curled into fists in her lap and her face went pale. “Given his manner toward me after my late-husband’s passing, this distresses me.”

“I see.” Lucas’s first instinct was to reach out, put a comforting hand on her arm, but he sat back in his chair instead. “Did he give any indication of when he wished to come?”

“No. But it is only a matter of time.” She clasped her hands before her, making an obvious effort to relax her posture. “The letter from Mr. Olivier was more encouraging. He received your letter, and mine, and advised me to go through with the marriage. If you are still amenable.”

Lucas nodded. “I am. My only concern is how soon we can manage it. We have to settle the legal matters—”

“The special license was no trouble?” she asked.

“None.” He leaned forward and unwound the string from the folder, laying it open on the table. The special license sat on top, stamp duty paid, the archbishop’s signature on the document. “I was lucky. The archbishop had a relatively clear calendar and was happy to see the son of an old friend.”

“That is good news.” She reached out and picked up the document, her eyes running over it with curiosity. “I’ve never seen one before.”

“Nor have I.” He took up the next paper. “This is the marriage settlement, in a draft form. If you agree to these points, we can ask someone local to make the contract for us. Once that is signed, we only have to appear before the vicar.”

She took the paper from his hand, laying the license down carefully. As she read, her eyes widened, then darted from the page to him and back. He attempted to appear indifferent, folding his arms and leaning back in the chair.

“This is—this is a great deal more than I expected. For myself and for the boys.” Her hand trembled and she steadied the paper by taking it up with the other as well. "My lord—”

“It is perfectly appropriate,” he said, shifting in his seat. When she looked up at him again, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, Lucas wondered if he ought to have had the proposed document delivered instead of coming himself. “I know Phillip has the title and all associated with that, so I have not settled so much on him as Edward. I have a younger brother, as you know, and it hardly seems fair that second sons are left with few choices. Edward will be able to choose an education and profession of his liking.”

The baroness nodded and lowered her head again, her shoulders rising and falling with her deep breath. “And there are provisions for me. I thank you for that. And future children.”

He nodded, his cravat feeling tight, and realized she hadn’t seen the gesture. She continued speaking before he could say anything.

“And everything else we discussed. Thank you. I appreciate your attention to those details.” She reached out to lay the paper down before lifting her head again. “I agree to these terms. Thank you.”

“I will have the contract drawn up.” He shuffled the papers, drawing the larger portion of the stack out. “These are records of my holdings and finances. I gathered what I could for you to see, should there be any questions…?” He let the phrase trail away, holding them out to her.

Lady Heatherton shifted in her chair and reached for the sheaf. “Thank you.” She lowered the paper to her lap, then a breathy laugh escaped her. “It is all very businesslike, isn’t it?”

It was nothing like Lucas’s engagement to Abigail. They had left all the paperwork to solicitors and had spent the days and weeks prior to their marriage holding hands and dreaming of things to come. But this arrangement could never be like that one. He had loved Abigail, and she him.

“It does feel very dry, doesn’t it?”