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“Very good, my lord. Anything more I can do for you? Tea and scones should be ready any minute now, based on the delicious smells coming from my good wife’s kitchen. I’ll bring them up as soon they’re ready.”
“Thank you.” Ben took the letters from Snow and examined them one at a time after Snow left the room.
The letter from Edinburgh was from his mother. “Dear Winton,” it began. His mother hadn’t referred to him as Ben at any point in his life. Before he’d become the Earl of Winton, he’d been Viscount Embley, so Embley was what she’d called him. And now she called him Winton. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him, but it did.
He quickly scanned his mother’s letter. It was full of Society news from Edinburgh, travels with her husband, the Earl of Kelso, etcetera, etcetera.
Her last paragraph caught him by surprise, however.
I miss you, and I long to see my little namesake, Rose. Perhaps we could meet you in London during the Season and spend time with you both. It is something to consider, at least. I shall speak to Kelso about it. All my love, Mama.
It was the most affectionate letter he’d ever received from his mother. She wasn’t the particularly emotive type.
The letter from Winton Court was from his housekeeper, Mrs. Burns, whom he’d instructed to keep him informed as to the infant’s health and well-being specifically, along with the general status of the household. He’d already heard from James Allen, his steward, and had replied, apprising him of Duncan MacKay’s promotion to understeward of the Lincolnshire estate.
Mrs. Burns’s letter began with the usual introductions before turning to the topic of Rose.
On the subject of the infant, Lady Rose, she seems to be thriving well enough. I would never wish to speak ill, of course, but it seems that, despite Nurse’s best efforts, Lady Rose doesn’t seem an entirely happy baby. Happy enough, I suppose, but not entirely. But I’ve said too much already, and truly, it would be hardly worth mentioning had you not asked for details. All is well, and I pray you do not worry unduly, Lord Winton.
He set the letter aside. Why would Mrs. Burns mention such a thing and then dismiss it? It was odd and a bit concerning. Was it something to worry about or not? He knew nothing about infant care or how they behaved in general. Was a baby aware enough to realize that Nurse wasn’t her mama? He would ponder Mrs. Burns’s letter before writing his response.
He intentionally opened the first letter from London next, which was from the Duke of Aylesham. It essentially said what Ben expected it to say: that the years of war with France, the added strain of war with the American colonies, and the excessive spending of the Prince Regent meant that the country’s debt was catastrophic, and it would be valuable for Lord Winton to add his voice in the House of Lords during this unprecedented moment in history.
Ben set the duke’s letter atop Mrs. Burns’s, once again needing time to ponder how to respond.
He looked at the last letter, studying the feminine script on its exterior, and felt his pulse begin to race. It was from Rebecca. He knew it and had known it the moment he’d seen it among the other letters. He’d wanted to tear it open and pore over the words written within—hoping she was enjoying herself, praying she wasn’t enjoying herself so much that she’d forgotten him.
Her words might determine his response to the Duke of Aylesham, for if her words were merely polite and aloof and it was apparent that she had found a particular gentleman to her liking, he would not travel to London regardless of Aylesham’s request. Ben had barely completed a year of mourning; it was as good a reason as any he’d have to avoid Society again this year if he so chose.
Blast, but his fingers were trembling as he broke the seal. What sort of besotted fool had he turned into since arriving in Lincolnshire? He’d vowed he wouldnotgive his heart away so easily ever again. And yet, he’d barely set foot in Lower Alderwood when he’d been struck, caught unawares, by a young lady trespassing on his property.
He read her missive.
Greetings, Ben.
I hope you are well. We arrived safely in London, and the physician Aylesham arranged to examine my ankle says it looks to be mending nicely. I hope that knowledge relieves your mind. Aylesham is also in the process of obtaining my voucher to Almack’s. I daresay my foot won’t be ready for waltzing or country dances by then, but at least I will be able to attend should he be successful.
I promised Aylesham I would remind you of his request to haveyou present in the House of Lords, so there. I have fulfilled mypromise. And speaking of promises, I would also remind you that you promised to consider attending my come-out ball, which I can now tell you is set for Thursday, June2nd. I do hope you’ll attend, Ben. It would gladden my heart if you did.
I also promised to inform you of the various acquaintances I havemade, but those are few at present, beyond an extraordinary modisteand Lady Walmsley, the absolutely charming lady who was to havesponsored both Susan and me the first time around. Therefore, Ishall probably write to you again with more details of my new acquaintances and experiences.
I do hope you will reply to my letter, Ben. Adieu for now.
Yours, Rebecca
Ben carefully folded the letter and put it in his breast pocket.
