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“It’s a relief to have the matter so quickly settled,” Blaire said. “I think my son and I will take our leave now.”
“Yes. I think we shall. Congratulations, Lord Hurrow,” Simon spat the title as if it was poison.
As Blaire rose, everyone else did, too.
“Thank you both for being here,” Reginald’s father said. “I do appreciate your cooperation with the matter.”
“Of course,” Blaire replied. “Why would either my dear boy or I want to interfere in the title, Marquess of Hurrow, being returned to its rightful owner?”
Simon stiffened, his muscles all becoming tense. “Yes,” he said. “It’s quite good to have you returned to us, cousin. We’d all feared the worst for so long.”
Reginald forced a smile. Simon’s words sounded so rehearsed that Reginald wondered if he’d been thinking of them for days, practicing them in front of a mirror like an actor about to take the stage.
Blaire turned towards the doorway, and Blackburn’s maid quickly moved to escort the lady out. Simon followed, his back straight and his chin held high. This most definitely would not be the last Reginald heard from his cousin. That much was quite apparent.
“And thankyou, Mr. Blackburn,” Reginald’s father said, once Blaire and Simon had departed. “Your help in this matter was very much appreciated.”
Blackburn nodded. “It was my pleasure, of course.”
“Well,” Reginald’s father said cheerfully. “Shall we depart, my dear son? It was quite a long trip, and I think I’d like to rest.”
Reginald nodded, although he wasn’t anything close to tired. If anything, the trip had been dreadfully boring, and he rather felt as though he’d been resting for far too long. Once he and his father returned to their townhouse, maybe Reginald could slip away and visit some of his old haunts.
“Yes, I think that’s best,” Reginald replied. “Thank you, Mr. Blackburn.”
The solicitor nodded, although the gesture seemed absentminded. There was something odd about the man, Reginald reflected. Or it could merely be that he had such a quiet, thoughtful demeanor that it made Reginald nervous. Blackburn rather felt like a man who’d smile to one’s face whilst secretly hating them with an unrivaled passion.
The maid returned to escort them out, and Reginald followed his father, feeling rather detached from everything. The Marquess of Hurrow. He was really theMarquess of Hurrowagain. He’d really accepted this life again. Reginald felt as if it all shouldn’t have seemed so strange to him, but he still couldn’t quite make himself believe that he’d returned home after so long.
“Now, we’ve only one other matter to attend to,” Reginald’s father said. “Your courtship to Lady Marcella.”
Right. Hiscourtship. Honestly, if this was meant to be a marriage of convenience, abusiness transaction, it seemed utterly ridiculous to even have a courtship.
But I suppose her father could choose to call off the whole engagement if he finds me too unsuitable, especially since I lack the polish of the ton.
“Right,” Reginald replied. “My courtship with her.”
“At least, we have the title secure,” his father said. “That will help our case. I couldn’t possibly ask my dearest friend to wed his only child to a man without a title, after all.”
“I suppose,” Reginald said. “I’ll do my best to be a proper gentleman for her.”
He couldn’t rememberanythingabout how to court a lady. Actually, he couldn’t even recall if he’d ever been taught how to court a lady. Reginald supposed there were awkward meetings, supervised by a maid or a mutual acquaintance. There would be promenades across carefully groomed gardens and luncheons together with their friends.
Lady Marcella’s friends, rather. I doubt my friends would be allowed to join us.
That was another compelling reason for taking the title. When he was the Marquess of Hurrow, he could keep whatever company he desired, and surely people would talk. But why should he care what they had to say? He was doomed to be a curiosity, a shiny object for thetonto fawn over until someone more interesting came along.
All he had to do was court Lady Marcella, andhopefully,he wouldn’t be a complete and utter failure.
