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“Yes, he is the most charming young gentleman, perfect for Leticia—” And that was the last thing Leticia heard before she scooted past Mrs. Hubbard and fled.
CHAPTERTWO
Disgusting, isn’t it?
Languidly, as though all the bones in his body had become just one soggy mass, Richard swirled the claret round and round his glass. Several drops splashed over the rim, spilling onto the lush white carpet that ran throughout the library.
Oops…Mother won’t appreciate that.
He stood, a bit wobbly, and ran his boot over the wine, only forcing the droplets further into the fibers of the carpet, making matters much worse.
Well…that won’t do, either.
Richard paused and swiveled round the room, looking for something or someone that might remedy the situation, but as he was by himself and the library was devoid of any cleaning supplies, his options were limited.
Least I can do is finish off the drink.
Satisfied with his reasoning, he tipped back his head and drank of the dregs of the claret, feeling the tart taste of fermented grapes burst on his tongue and burn as they coursed down his throat. He pursed his lips then winced as the powerful potency overcame him. He gave a brief shudder, decidedly not relishing what others often called a sweet drink.
Every time Richard thought of how, following the festivities this weekend, he would have a lady, Miss Laura Loery, the stunningly beautiful daughter of the Viscount Loery, as his wife, he felt a sadness overgrow him.
Miss Loery is magnificent…but—
It was that moment of hesitation—that tendency Richard had when he was thinking of his future wife to give pause—that brought him to such a melancholic state. He knew she was lovely. Everyone told him as much. And while they had a substantial courtship, in which he came to know her character and was even fond of her, he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe he was in love with her.
And that’s the root of the problem.
Richard gave up, momentarily, thinking about the cursed flecks of wine on the carpet, and slumped back toward the chair he’d been occupying for much of the morning. While his guests were arriving and the revelers began making merry, he’d determined to closet himself away here in the library until he could steel himself to be happy about this marriage. But as he’d already finished the entire bottle of claret, and the clock was yet to strike noon, his plan wasn’t going very well.
As he tumbled into one of the smooth, brown leather armchairs, he reached for the scrap of paper he always kept in his left front pocket. This sheet of parchment had been with him since he was at Eton. He’d had a professor there encourage him to make a list of accomplishments he’d wished to attain by the time he was thirty. This assignment, while given to each young man in the class, had made a particular impact on Richard’s life as he, unlike the other boys, not only took the task seriously, but all these years later, he still held onto the paper.
Now, returning to the list even though he’d memorized it long ago, he surveyed the progress he’d made in the last fifteen years.
Read and analyze the complete works of William Shakespeare
Read the works of William Wordsworth
Read the works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Discern whether other “Lake Poets” are worth reading
Graduate from University
Visit Italy
Visit America
Master the pianoforte
Occupy a respectable position in the House of Lords
Find a wife and marry her
Have three children
Over the years, Richard had added small notes to the list, giving clarity to vague ideas, but never once did he modify his original goals. When it occurred to him that America was a rather large country, he’d been forced to narrow this goal—writing in the details of how his journey would start in New York City and perhaps take him to Boston as he was sure anything worth seeing in the Americas would be in either of these two lively cities. Similar notes were made about the works of poetry by Wordsworth and Coleridge. At first, he’d contented himself with reading the combined works of the two men that were available in “Lyrical Ballads,” but then, he’d discovered further poems and continued reading those works published by these romantic authors. Of those things he’d set out to achieve when he was three-and-ten years old, he’d scratched off all but the final two.
With this weekend, I’ll be moving much closer to attaining all I ever dreamed possible.
