“You can imagine the aftermath, I am sure. King Arthur had to be put down. My father . . .” Alex clenched his jaw and looked out over the fields. “My father did not cope well.Idid not cope well. Nightmares still plague me from time to time.”
He said nothing for a while. Lottie’s heart thumped in her chest.
The horrors this man had endured.
He looked back at her. “I did not magically acquire a love of horse farming after that, no matter how my father pleaded and begged me to take over the family business. It was his dying wish, actually. But I simply could not. I realized that I loved horses becauseIanhad. Without him . . .” Alex drifted off with a shrug. “So you see, if the pain of my own family’s history could not dissuade me from being a doctor, the demands of a far-off marquisate never will.”
16
Alex had not lied to Lottie.
Therewasrelief in talking about Ian, in reliving those painful, fraught memories. In speaking with her, he had felt something loosen within him. Some dread or tightness orsomethingthat had been stiff and sore had simply . . . melted.
He found himself falling into an easy rhythm, spending hours each day in Lottie’s company.
He told her of the aftermath of Ian’s death—his almost compulsive need to leave Britain and how that led him to respond to an advertisement for a physician aboardThe Minerva.
He spent hours recounting his travels. He told her about Andrew, Rafe, Ewan, Kieran, and Jamie, as well as their journey to Sydney and then the New Hebrides.
He described their time in Vanuatu and Cuthie’s perfidy in attempting to take the villagers there as slaves. The horror of Rafe and Andrew being beaten nearly to death for their refusal to cooperate. Ewan and Kieran, along with the villagers, freeing their friends only to be marooned on the island. The ship’s subsequent destruction and Jamie’s supposed death. Their eventual rescue by a Portuguese whaler and their year-long return to Britain.
He told her of his efforts in recent years to build his medical practice and his pride in what he and McNeal were accomplishing in Edinburgh.
She listened and exclaimed and Alex had never felt so thoroughly understood. The sensation was a host of adjectives—novel, cleansing, redeeming.
In turn, she told him about her father and their close relationship. How wee Anne’s death had nearly broken them all, particularly as both of Margaret’s pregnancies had been so hard won.
Mostly, her expression nearly glowed as she spoke of Freddie and what a healing light he was for all of them.
“It’s why we must ensure that the estate is well-managed,” Lottie said several days later as they sat in the library. “I wish everything to be passed along intact to Freddie.”
“Aye,” Alex agreed. “But let’s face facts—we are making no headway with Mr. Warden.”
Mr. Warden, when he was at home, remained recalcitrant. However, the man traveled incessantly.
“How can Mr. Warden possibly see to the needs of Frome Abbey, as well as the marquisate as a whole?” Lottie asked.
“The man is far too busy. He seems to be doing the work of a wee army single-handedly.”
Lottie nodded. She turned sideways in her chair, one arm draped across the back.
Weak February sun poured in from the windows beside them, washing her face from left to right and burnishing her silvery hair. She was dressed in soft green wool, a colorful shawl wrapped around her shoulders and gray knitted half-mitts on her hands for warmth.
As usual, the force of her beauty caught Alex unawares. Often now, he thought of her as simply Lottie, the woman who was his friend.
But moments like this caught him out, where he realized, yet again, how staggeringly lovely she was.
Sometimes the sheer pull of his attraction to her frightened him.
Case in point—he avoided eventhinkingof kissing Lottie again.
A wise man knew his limits. When it came to Lady Charlotte, the tether of Alex’s control was far too frayed for his liking.
It was likely for the best he was leaving to see this Mr. S. Smith in the morning. He had already made arrangements with the coachman and ensured that the interior of the carriage was well padded.
The time away from Lottie’s cheery smile would hopefully allow for clearer thinking.
“How was the estate managed before Mr. Warden, I wonder?” Alex asked, forcing his eyes away from her lovely face. They had a tendency to linger and stare.
