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His brows furrowed. “You refuse? I don’t understand. You were willing to marry me mere weeks ago—the solicitors met regularly, and we were set to announce the betrothal formally—until this . . . this . . . ne’er-do-well arrived on the scene with a vowel in his hand.”
“Lord Kerridge—” Louisa began.
“Aylesham is not as well as he pretends to be, and he is zealous in his pursuit of acquiring more heirs. I am encouraged rather vigorously to marry and marry quickly, you see, and to begin a dynasty of my own so the man may die in peace, knowing the dukedom will thrive. You are the perfect bride, and Aylesham thinks so too. He was willing to overlook what he referred to as your ‘peccadillos’ regarding Lord Farleigh because of my assurances to him that you would come to your senses. And you did return to London without Farleigh, and the final banns weren’t read. What am I not understanding? Why can we not simply announce our betrothal now and marry?”
“Because I love someone else,” she said.
“Love? When has love been a consideration?” he asked her as he stood and paced away from her. “Marriage amongst the highest nobility, as you well know, is about maintaining property, wealth, and power, not love. It is about the training one receives from birth that provides leadership and decorum in the home and for Society at large. Providing heirs is critical as well, so the noble lines will continue. Love is all fine and good—but not of paramount importance. There is too much at stake.” He crossed back to her and sat, taking her hand in his. “That being said, you would make a wonderful duchess, Lady Louisa, and give the Aylesham line strong sons and daughters. And I am genuinely fond of you, or I should not have been so patient. Tell me you’ve reconsidered your answer.”
Louisa’s heart was heavy. Lord Kerridge was not a bad man; he was a fine gentleman, and she truly was honored that he considered her a worthy mate. “Too much has happened in the past few weeks,” she said softly. “We cannot go back to the way things were.”
He dropped his gaze and released her hand. “I see. I am sorry to hear this and will not impose upon your time any longer.” He rose to his feet. “Farewell, Lady Louisa. I hope you find happiness in the choice you have made.” He made a stiff, formal bow and strode across the garden and out of sight.
Louisa waited awhile, pondering the words Lord Kerridge had spoken to her. He wasn’t entirely wrong in his opinions. Louisa had simply realized at some point that their priorities didn’t match. Especially when it came to love.
Lord Kerridge had offered her marriage out of duty to the Duke of Aylesham and Louisa’s own suitability as daughter of the Marquess of Ashworth. His pride had been stung by Louisa’s refusal, but he would recover in time, and Louisa had no doubt that he would find another suitable bride.
William had demanded marriage out of love for his home and his friends. But then he had torn up the vowel—he’d said—because the more he’d gotten to know her, the more he’d realized he couldn’t force her into marriage to him.
Louisa suspected—hoped—there was another reason he’d torn up the vowel, even if he hadn’t spoken the words.
By the time she returned to the house, she had made a decision. She only hoped her family wouldn’t think she was utterly mad when she told them what it was.
* * *
Today, rather than do manual labor—William had developed a great deal of respect for Matthew over the past several days—the two of them spent the morning going over the ledgers. It was dull, depressing work but had to be done. William had received several letters from Richard Heslop regarding the status of the mortgages and what the solicitor had learned by speaking to the creditors. “While it may appear upon first perusal that the news regarding the debts is grim, there was some willingness on the part of a few of the creditors to negotiate, surprised as they were to learn that they might see any reparations at all.”
Heslop must have spun quite a tale to them, for after the past fortnight of backbreaking work with Matthew, William had realized he’d undertaken a nearly impossible task. He needed more men to do the work if they were to make any real progress. Word had gotten out in the village what William was about, and while a few of the tenant farmers had returned, it was not nearly enough. But it was something, at least, and William would take any blessings that came his way.
After Matthew and he had gone over the ledgers, Mrs. Brill had fed them both, and then Matthew had gone into the village to check on Miss Purnell. It surprised no one that Matthew had taken a liking to the lady. William had been able to find her a job—not much of a job, but she’d been grateful nonetheless—assisting the teacher two days a week at the village school. Since Peter and Daisy both attended the school, it worked out well for everyone.
Miss Purnell wasn’t ready to have a suitor after all she’d been through, William suspected, but she hadn’t rejected Matthew outright either.
William was feeling restless and out of sorts. There was plenty to do, but he couldn’t settle on any one task. He wandered back to the kitchen, where Mrs. Brill was washing the dishes after luncheon. “Where’s Mary?” he asked. “That’s her job, isn’t it?”
“Oh, she’s here and there,” Mrs. Brill said. “She’s not been feelin’ quite herself the past few—well, I’ve just let ’er have some time to herself, is all.”
William grunted in reply and stalked out into the herb garden, swatting at a few bees that buzzed about his head. He broke off a rosemary leaf and ran it through his fingers, inhaling the pungent scent. Perhaps he would ride into the village. He could go to the George and Dragon, get better acquainted with the people.
Except he’d have to go to the stable for a horse, and Samuel would lecture him again about going to see Louisa.
He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. He saw Louisa everywhere as it was.
Blast it all, she was probably at an afternoon tea with Lord Kerridge at this very moment, he thought grumpily. Wearing the light-blue muslin that brought out her eyes. She would be smiling and flowing with words, like cool water through a parched desert . . .
He didn’t know what to do. Hard work hadn’t driven her from his mind. The image of Lord Kerridge at her side hadn’t deterred him. Perhaps he should write another letter to Heslop, telling the man to search for William’s legal heir, for if he didn’t get Louisa out of his head—and his heart—he would be doomed to remain a bachelor.
What a depressing thought.
He must exorcise her from his mind, so, fool that he was, he headed to the one place at Farleigh Manor that reminded him the most of her.
The oak tree.
* * *
It seemed only fitting that Louisa would find William at the oak tree. He sat, his back resting against the trunk, staring out at the pond.
He had been willing to stake his own future happiness on an unseen wife for the sake of those here at Farleigh Manor. Louisa understood this now.
