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CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Fergus awoke early the next morning to make his way home to Hillow House, resolved to apologize to Edwina as soon as he found her. As soon as he stepped in, he found a maid and asked her, “Where is my wife?”
“She is out, Your Grace,” she said.
“Out where?” Fergus asked desperately.
“She is calling upon her father,” the maid answered, dipping in a curtsey nervously and darting off down the hall.
He stood in the hallway for a moment, the energy taken from his determination. Raking a hand through his hair, he headed up to his room to dress, passing the parlor, the library, and his study, each silent without Edwina’s presence. She had only lived there a few days, and she was not terribly loud, but her presence spoke volumes. He wondered if she noticed his absence as much as he noticed hers, and guilt flooded through him for leaving her alone in a strange, grand house.
As James helped him to shave and dress, Simon joined them.
“I had a few things to discuss with you,” Simon explained, turning a chair to face Fergus while James dragged the razor across his chin.
“Go ahead,” Fergus allowed.
“The groom said he has gotten a few mares for you to inspect this afternoon. Will you be available?” Simon asked, looking down at a paper with notes.
“Yes, I want Her Grace present, though. I should like her opinion.”
“Very well,” Simon repled, glancing back down on his list. “The Earl of Townshend would like your support on a bill he hopes to put before parliament.”
“Who the hell is the Earl of Townshend?” Fergus grumbled. “And what bill?”
“I believe the Earl was an officer in the army in his youth, same as you. Something about provisions for wounded soldiers after their service.”
“And he sought me out without an introduction?”
Simon did not reply. Annoyed, Fergus waved his hand. “Very well, have him send me the information.”
“He said he would like to meet with you in person. The messenger said he is in London for the remainder of the season.”
Fergus sighed. “You know I do not wish to take visitors.”
“You may be interested in the details, Your Grace,” Simon encouraged gently. “You do have a duty to parliament, and this may be something for you to get behind, show your support. I think there has been some understanding for you not participating so far, but I doubt the other lords will let you be a recluse forever.”
Fergus could not argue with him. He had not ventured beyond Hillow House much in years, especially since he had been ridiculed for his appearance. Even gentlemen among thetonseemed to avoid him, and he was happy to let them. Perhaps his long absence had caused them to forget why they avoided them in the first place.
“I shall consider it,” Fergus grumbled. “What else?”
Simon sighed, putting the paper down. “There has been some discussion among the staff that you may ought to be aware of.”
James started wiping Fergus’ face, so he turned to Simon. “What kind of discussion?”
“Apparently, a few of the staff overhead the argument between you and Her Grace last night and took offense to your treatment of her.”
Scowling, Fergus asked, “What business is it of theirs, and why should you concern me with this? Is it not your job to oversee the staff?”
“Your Grace, with all due respect, if the staff are unhappy with your behavior they may seek employment elsewhere. And staff will always gossip. I do not want to run into difficulties with hiring new maids and footmen if necessary.”
“What would you have me do, then?” Fergus asked.
“The obvious,” Simon told him. “Try to speak more respectfully to Her Grace, even if she provokes you.” Fergus continued to scowl and stood to shrug on the clothes that James offered him.
“Can you have her come to me when she arrives back home?” Fergus asked.
“Very well,” Simon agreed, standing.
