“I am afraid that’s not true,” Richard replied, allowing his shoulder to slump a little underneath the weight of Harry’s hand. “As you’ve already mentioned, there are hundreds of members of thetonwaiting outside to wish my future bride and me every possible happiness.”
“But if you don’t want to get married—?” Harry ventured, and now, Richard shrugged out from under his grip and walked to the window. He suddenly became fully alert to the fact that while this had begun as Harry trying to coax him out of his chamber and his sorrowful state, now it was something else—something more.
“I want to get married.” Richard glanced out the window, watching as yet another set of carriages pulled up to the entry way of the house. From this distance, he couldn’t discern one coat of arms from the next, so he had no idea who was arriving, but it didn’t matter. In that instant, he firmly made up his mind. “I will get married.”
“Yes,” Harry persisted, still maintaining his distance on the other side of the chamber near the writing desk. “But must your bride be Miss Loery? Do you even fancy yourself in love with her? Because if you did, I really don’t think you’d be having all these reservations.”
“Look,” Richard replied, evading the question entirely and stabbing one of his fingers at the pane of glass. “I think Mr. and Mrs. Hoffingbrooke have just arrived. Perhaps I should go and greet the guests.”
* * *
Leticia stood immobilized in the hallway. With her skirts still hitched up and the fabric bunched in her hands, she wanted to move. She willed herself to race down the hallway, seek out Richard, and tell him everything she’d just overheard, but she couldn’t get her feet to carry her away from the spot.
Her mind transported her to the way Richard had, just a few moments before, helped her down the stairs. He could have let her trip. Moreover, he could have moved aside and let her navigate the staircase on her own. But Richard was a gentleman, and he’d stood by, graciously helping to set her to rights.
Despicable hag—
For a moment, Leticia was overcome by her anger at Miss Loery. She dropped her skirts and tiptoed back toward the open doorway. She was just in time to hear the ladies recover from their laughter. Miss Walch, who was now sitting upright once more on the bed, asked further questions, “But what about the Dowager? She’s known about thetonfor being a sharp one. Won’t she see right through your plans?”
I’d forgotten about the Dowager!
“The Dowager?” Miss Loery scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh anymore. Another fit like that, and we’ll have to start all over on my hairstyle.” She sighed then but continued speaking. “The Dowager won’t care one way or the other what happens between the Duke and I, so long as she thinks we are trying to give her a grandchild.”
“Butwillyou be trying to give her a grandchild?”
Miss Loery shrugged her bony shoulders. “Should Matthew and I be lucky enough to make a baby together, the Dowager and the Duke will be none the wiser.”
Leticia, from her spot in the hallway, sucked in a large gulp of air, steeling herself against Miss Loery’s admission.
Leticia thought of how, so many times over the years, she’d heard the Dowager say she wanted her only son to marry someone he loved. When Leticia first came of age, she could even recall one particular afternoon, while she was preparing for a function, that the Dowager entered the room and said, “Marry for love, sweet child. Because when you find the person you love, and you wed them, the rest of your story will fall into place.” Then, she snapped her fingers as though she were magically granting Leticia the opportunity to find her one true love.
While she guessed the Dowager had not performed the same magic trick for her son, she knew there was no way he could have grown up in his mother’s household without hearing her talk about the importance of marrying someone he loved.
Perhaps Richard does love her, but he also deserves to know the truth.
With that, she wasted no time with her skirts but pivoted and began walking swiftly down the corridor. She kept her head lowered as she was thinking over all she’d heard, trying to think of the proper way to share it with Richard when she passed the staircase and crossed into the wing where the men slept.
If someone catches me going this way, I’ll surely be reprimanded. But Richard—
She looked backward then toward the staircase, wondering if perhaps he’d already come and gone from his chamber, but as she did, she stumbled into her uncle, Sebastian, the Earl of Pearl.
“Leticia,” he said her name loudly as though he wished to announce her presence to the entire Estate. “Good morning, dear girl.”
“Good morning, Uncle,” Leticia said stiffly.
Her uncle was dressed in a fine suit that was a light ash gray. His hair, which had long ago turned the same shade, was combed neatly at the sides, and the bald patch in the center of his head seemed to almost glisten. He wore a tiny pair of spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, and his brown eyes looked jovial as they fell upon her. In one hand, he held loosely a glass of some spirit. Even standing this close to him, she couldn’t tell what kind of alcohol was in the crystal goblet, but judging by the time of day, the occasion, and the sweet syrupy smell that emanated from his breath, she guessed it was one of the raspberry liqueurs he so often favored.
“And where are you going in such a hurry?” Her uncle inquired as he fussed snootily with his glasses. “Ah…let me guess,” he continued, not allowing her the chance to answer his question. “You are dashing about looking for Richard and Harry.”
“As a matter of fact, I am,” Leticia responded, smoothing down her dress now, attempting to regain her composure. “How did you know?”
“Some things never change,” her uncle replied with an exaggerated sigh. “You’ve been running after those boys your whole life. Don’t know why things should be any different now that Richard’s getting married.”
“I—” Leticia began, but Uncle Sebastian was known for being a bit long-winded, so she closed her mouth when he proceeded with his speech.
“I do so hope that when you find your own match you will give up on this foolishness. I don’t think your future husband will fancy you dashing about, chasing after the older boys.”
Leticia gave her uncle a well-deserved scowl. “I don’t have any intention of marrying any time soon, and rest assured,shouldI marry, someday, my husband will not be in the least concerned that I have a close bond with my cousin and dear friend.”