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Chapter 9
Crispin was distracted as they rode back towards his own estate. They had been out for most of the day. As much as he wanted to spend some time reading, he’d been so busy over the past week that he hadn’t been able to just enjoy some time outside.
He was grateful now for the opportunity to come out with Mr. Post and just indulge in a bit of the peace and quiet of the countryside.
But he knew that he needed to stop thinking about Lady Mary so much. It had been days since the ball, and she had been on his mind constantly. Coming upon her today was more exciting than anything else might have been.
He still couldn’t believe it, and in his heart, he felt that it had to mean something. There was no possibility that he had simply come upon her and that it was not important. Was it possible that fate had intervened to ensure that they met that day?
As Crispin was lost in his thoughts, he barely even noticed that there were clouds moving in. If it was going to rain, he certainly had not been prepared for it.
“Are you all right, Your Grace?” Mr. Post asked.
Crispin turned to him, surprised by the sudden interruption. It had been so quiet while he was thinking that it took him aback to hear a voice.
“Yes, of course I am,” he replied.
“I hope there is no rain—at least not until we get home. It was so beautiful these last few days that I would not have thought there would be any sign of it,” Mr. Post said, making casual conversation.
“No, I did not expect it either,” Crispin said.
“Forgive me, Your Grace, but you seem distracted after meeting with Lady Mary. Are you certain that nothing is amiss?” he asked.
Crispin didn’t know what to say. He had never been the sort of man to order his staff to remain quiet—and he had developed a strange sort of friendship with Mr. Post as a result of his love of riding—but was he ready to divulge his confusing feelings regarding Lady Mary? Was it right for him to do so?
“If you were observing me and the interaction, Mr. Post, what would you say about it? Do you think that Lady Mary and I got along well? Did we seem to have…were we enjoying our conversation from your perspective?” he asked, realising that this was a good opportunity to find out what other people thought about his ability to interact with her.
Mr. Post grinned, more to himself than to Crispin.
“Your Grace, I would say that I observed a gentleman of high esteem who was somewhat anxious about the feelings he is trying to hide,” Mr. Post replied, far more honestly than Crispin had been prepared for.
“Oh, good heavens. Do you think it was that clear to her? Was I a fool? Should I be embarrassed?” he asked.
“No, Your Grace! Not at all. I would say that she was very engaged in the conversation as well. The two of you appeared to get along very well and I think that it was a wonderful time for her, just as it appeared to be for you. Am I incorrect?” he asked.
Crispin paused, thinking for a moment. He was embarrassed and didn’t want to admit it. Realising that Lady Mary might have noticed his intrigue only made him wonder if he was truly a fool for speaking with her at all. Or, perhaps, Mr. Post was merely teasing him.
“Lord Hanbrooke, allow me to say this. It is doubtful that she knows you as I do,” he said. “I know that you are not quick to communicate with others or to share your thoughts. You are not a man who easily interacts with others, particularly women.
But you spoke with her with ease. You enjoyed it. You made her laugh. I have never seen that before. But she may not know that you are more often keeping to yourself. She likely is unaware that you do not show that sort of mirth so freely. I expect that she is completely oblivious to the fact that you treated her any differently than you would treat any other man or woman.”
Crispin hoped he was right. He hadn’t wanted her to know quite how fond he was of her—at least, not until he figured that out for himself. He had been trying to understand himself through all of this.
Since the death of his father, Crispin had struggled with the weight of the title. He knew that he was expected to prove himself—he would have to be sociable, enjoyable, and decent.
But it was very difficult for him. He didn’t want to surround himself with others; he was too shy for that. Crispin hated how reserved he was, but he could not help it. It was simply a part of him.
He had also shied away from the idea of finding a wife right away. It was not that he didn’t wish for one, but he wanted to ground himself in his position first.
He had inherited these expectations only a year prior and it was difficult to ascertain precisely what was expected of him at any given moment. To be a husband and possibly a father soon after? All while still trying to put himself in a better position now?
It was too much.
“Thank you, Mr. Post,” he said. “I do hope that you are right.”
A cool breeze blew past them, and the sky continued to shift, with clouds blocking the sun from above them. There was still no sign of rain, but it seemed as though the rain might be coming soon enough and, if so, Crispin wanted to get back to the estate before they were soaked through. He had lived through more than enough English rains to know what it could do.
“What say you? Shall we race?” Crispin offered, knowing that Mr. Post would win with ease.
