AllFreeNovel
Share Us
With a shake of his head, Miles allowed the conversation to come to a stalemate. Not because he wasn’t interested in chatting with the earl, for he’d found Grey to be rather interesting company. But now that Olivia had snuck back into his thoughts, not that she had ever truly left, he was hard pressed to set her to the side.
He was still upset that their secret tryst had been interrupted, but perhaps it was for the best. He doubted he would have wanted to leave her side when morning arrived. If he closed his eyes, he could see her as vividly as if she was standing before him in the flesh. He could remember her light, floral scent, and the feel of her silky, blond hair sliding through his fingers. His cock would get hard when he recalled the sound of his name passing through her lips as she reached the pinnacle of her pleasure, her green eyes shimmering like chips of emerald.
He clutched Gladiator’s reins and urged him into a trot. He wanted to get this chore taken care of so he could return to Marlington Hall and hold Olivia in his arms once more. She was quickly starting to be the balm to his tortured soul, and the despondency he’d put himself through for years after Marian’s death was finally starting to ease to the point he could finally draw a full breath without feeling as if it was wrong for him to do so.
He parted ways with the earl once they reached Mayfair, as Grey had some personal business to see to before they requested an audience with the archbishop. Miles continued on to the Gravesend townhouse and handed his horse over to the groom when he arrived. He strode up the steps and was greeted by the butler.
“Your Grace,” he bowed reverently. “I wasn’t informed of your arrival, or I would have ensured that tea was prepared.”
“Not to worry, as I won’t be staying long.” He handed his outerwear over to the servant. “Perhaps not even for the night. It just depends on how long it takes to accomplish what I need to do.” He paused. “However, some hot tea does sound rather welcoming at the moment, as well as some sandwiches. If you could send it to my chamber, I’ll take it there.”
“Of course, Your Grace. I shall see to it myself straightaway.”
As he walked away, Miles shook his head. He was practically tripping over himself to ensure that he was pleased with his service, while Edgerton still looked at him with continued distrust. Miles found that he actually preferred the actions of the latter. He used to like the former, but he was growing weary of acting as though he was some sort of object to be feared, rather than just a man who had suffered from his personal demons for far too long.
He was just finishing his light repast when there was a knock at his chamber door.
He called out and a footman entered. He handed over a card. “There is a gentleman who wishes to see you, Your Grace.”
Miles frowned, because he didn’t know how anyone could guess that he was even in town. Finding that his curiosity was getting the best of him, he said, “Show the viscount into the parlor, if you please. I shall receive him there.”
He didn’t have to wait long before a middle-aged man in fashionable attire walked into the room. He had brown hair and eyes and a face starting to line with the wrinkles from age. He looked as common as any other aristocrat that roamed the city, although Miles wasn’t familiar with him personally. “Your Grace,” he greeted evenly.
“Lord Rundale,” Miles returned. He saw the other man lift his brows at the sound of his raspy voice, before he recalled his manners and quickly shuttered his shock. “I daresay this is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting to be receiving, for I shall not be in town for long. It’s rather opportune that you found me in residence at all.”
“I do apologize for intruding, Your Grace,” he demurred. “But I ensured I would be notified the moment you returned, as I have come on a most urgent matter.”
Miles nodded. He could appreciate a man who came right to the point. He crossed his arms. “What can I do for you?”
The viscount suddenly looked torn. “Perhaps you might want to be seated first?”
He frowned. “For what purpose? Are you about to impart some unwelcome news?”
Again, another pregnant pause. “Not exactly. I merely wondered if you intended to honor the contract made by your predecessor, the Duke of Marlington?”
At this, Miles lifted a curious brow. “I’m oddly intrigued, as I am not aware of any sort of secret alliance formed before I assumed the duties of the estate. Perhaps it would be best if you were to discuss things with the solicitor—”
He was already shaking his head. “It is not something that can be settled under duress of the law, I’m afraid, but merely by anhonorableagreement between gentlemen.”
Miles was starting to get annoyed now, for the inflection he put on his honor was not lost on him, as if perhaps he wasn’t worthy enough of the title. “Why don’t you just tell me what you came here to say, Lord Rundale, so that we can each go about our business?”
The viscount’s gaze was steady. “Even if that particular business includes a marriage contract with the Duke of Marlington to my daughter?”
A pin could have dropped after his announcement and Miles would have heard it. “Again, I say that I am not aware of any such arrangement.”
The gentleman withdrew a sheet of paper from his jacket and handed it to Miles. “Perhaps this will add some clarification to my claim.”
Miles opened the paper and scanned through the document. It did seem to be a mutual agreement between Olivia’s late father and a lady by the name of Miss Eugenia Stillwater. The furrow between his brows deepened. “This is very disconcerting, my lord, as this is the first I’ve heard of a betrothal between your daughter and the duke.” He abruptly brought to mind the mysterious sapphire ring that he’d found in the desk drawer in the study at Marlington Hall and decided that perhaps it wasn’t as farfetched as he might have originally believed. “But let’s say that I concur this is the truth. Surely you can’t expect me to honor it?”
The viscount had the grace to shift on his feet, although he kept his shoulders square. “I was hoping that you might be a gentleman and assume the responsibility the previous duke could not complete, yes.”
Miles had to admit that this man did not mince words. But neither did he feel honor bound to offer for his daughter’s hand when he’d already offered for Olivia. He smiled tightly. “While I am flattered you think I might be a gentleman, the truth is that I have already pledged my fidelity to another. Thus, I fear you have wasted your time on your appeal.”
The viscount seemed to age before his eyes. His shoulders slumped and the lines around his mouth deepened when he pursed them together. “I regret that is the case, as my daughter will be quite distressed. She had her heart rather set on being a duchess.”
“I do not doubt that,” Miles returned dryly. “Most hopeful debutantes do, but I’m afraid that it won’t be my title she carries henceforth, either through Gravesend or Marlington.” He paused. “Nevertheless, might I ask why it took so long for you to pursue this matter? The duke has been gone for more than a year.”
The viscount shifted on his feet. “I wasn’t sure who might carry on the title, if anyone at all, since he only beget daughters. When I did find out you were to be the heir, it was… difficult to try and find an audience with you. There has been some talk in town who thought you might have gone mad after your injuries in the war, and the reason you remained secluded in the country.” Lord Rundale met his gaze steadily. “I should regret for word to spread that the rumors were true.”
