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“It seems we are all finished here,” said Mother, coming up beside them, her cheeks rosy with excitement. The Duchess of Alderleaf had begun to show her age these last few years, yet in this moment, her obvious joy made her look a decade younger. “The seamstress has promised to have the alterations and new embroidery finished by the end of the week. There’s no doubt the dress will be ready by the first ball!”
“Oh, excellent! Should we begin searching for a new dress for Evelina as well?” Diana cut in before Evelina had the chance to say anything more about such an endeavor being impractical, what with all the fine outfits she already had at home.
“Unfortunately, My Dears, I do not believe we have the time.” He eyes took on a mischievous glint. “We’ll have to resume our search for Evelina tomorrow, as a very promising guest will be joining us this evening for dinner.”
“Promising guest?” Evelina asked, a bit uneasy.
Mother gave her a shrewd look. “The Marquess of Newhey,” she specified. “Who, I have it on high authority, happens to be in search of a bride.”
Diana squealed and gripped Evelina’s arm in anticipation. Evelina, understanding that this dinner arrangement was intended for her benefit, could only smile thinly.
Oh, stop it, a voice inside her head chided.You promised Diana you would attempt to cheer up. And who is to say? Perhaps this gentleman will prove different than the others.
* * *
“You’re going to make a fine Duke one day,” Father had said, the morning he’d seen Thomas off. The sea breeze was cool and humid, and the air tasted of salt.
“I hear your words, but I fear I have a difficult time taking them to heart.” Thomas stared down at his feet. He could hardly hear himself over the hustle and bustle of sailors loading the ship behind them. “I know I can be stubborn. Restless.”
It was his greatest fear, falling short of his father’s example. Will Russell, the Duke of Elvington, was a prominent man not only in the shipping industry, but in his social and familial realms as well. Even tempered, yet with an intimidating stature, he embodied everything Thomas imagined a duke should be.
Thomas, oppositely, could not manage to sit still long enough to go through a ledger. Growing up, his tutors praised his intelligence, yet scolded his lack of focus, insisting he would never be prepared to manage the estate if he kept on as he was. Their ceaseless berating had slowly but surely turned Thomas from a gregarious, sociable child to a rather quiet young man, often unsure of himself when interacting with others.Andhe still couldn’t sit still for more than an hour at a time.
His true joys came from long walks or ambitious rides atop his stallion—activities where he could be in motion, where he could feel the wind against his face, where he could feelalive.
How would he ever be ready to assume his father’s role as the Duke?
Father must have sensed his worries, for he reached out with a strong hand and tilted Thomas’ jaw up, forcing him to make eye contact. “We are more alike than you think, My Son. I remember all too well how burdened by expectations I felt at your age.”
“Father—”
“Trust me in this, but do not think too much about it, either.” His father’s expression softened. “You are still young. For now, my only desire is for you to focus on yourself and learning all you can from your travels. When you return, you will be ready for whatever comes.”
How does he manage such easy confidence?Thomas wondered, desperately trying to swallow down the sudden tightness in his throat.
After all, his father had spent his youth in the Far East as well. The fact that he was trusting Thomas to handle their company’s business abroad was evidence that he saw at least some potential in his eldest son.
They embraced each other one final time.Somehow, he believes in me, Thomas thought,even if I do not yet believe in myself.
Now, it was five years since he had first gone abroad, and six months since Father’s death, Thomas wondered what, exactly, he had learned from his time in India.
He didn’t feel any more confident than he had when he had departed. If anything, going abroad had made Thomas more aware of everything hedidn’tknow.
“What is it that’s on your mind?” his mother asked from the bench across him. Their carriage rocked back and forth on the bumpy street, but somehow, the Dowager Duchess managed to maintain her posture.
Thomas exhaled, wishing he could stand and stretch here in the carriage. Tension was already knotting his shoulders, and the stifling compartment made it difficult to breathe. “It’s nothing.”
“I know you better than that, Thomas.”
Thomas gave her a wane smile. The sentiment went both ways—he knew his mother well enough that if he burdened her with his own fears, it would just escalate her own.
She was so excited about the Season, and despite his own reservations, he didn’t want to spoil that for her.
“I’m just sentimental, being home,” Thomas said, electing to vocalize the least dramatic of his troubles. “And I will admit, I am not unaware of the many challenges of the dukedom that await.”
At long last, they arrived at their destination. Elvington Manor was a large, well-kept residence conveniently close to downtown. Its exterior had been recently renovated to reflect the latest of London’s architectural fashions, and the grounds keeping was impeccable. Each bush appeared clean-cut, yet flush and healthy—it seemed summer had decided to grant them a brief renaissance before the cold fully took over.
“Thomas!” Gerard, Thomas’ younger brother, was already waiting outside to receive them. He stood impatiently at the side of the carriage as the footman helped Mother down, with Thomas following behind. “You’ve made it at last. I was worried we would never speak again, at least off the page. Your penmanship truly is terrible.”
