Alex did. Too much.
Trust his friends to see right through him.
Lottie had come to London with her sister and Lord Frank. That much Alex had learned these past few days. They were staying with Ferndown in the palatial ducal townhouse overlooking Berkley Square.
Alex had even driven past the house the day before. Ostensibly, he had passed Ferndown House on his way to look at Lockheade House, the townhouse the marquisate owned off Grosvenor Circle. But as the carriage slowly rolled past the gates to Ferndown House, he could not help how his gaze lingered, optimistically hoping that he might catch a glimpse of Lottie.
He was utterly pathetic.
Moreover, Alex knew that such buildings were termed “townhouses” but they were, in all actuality, wee country estates in the middle of London. Ferndown House was more palace than anything.
Lockheade House was similarly grand.
Alex had studied its elegant Palladian facade through the iron gate leading into the small forecourt. He simply could not fathom that such a building could behis. That he could leave the finery of Frome Abbey, and then journey in a luxurious carriage to London, only to tuck himself away from the ‘rabble’ in an urban palace.
Embracing such a future felt onerous. Overwhelming and exhausting. Andthatcoming from a man who regularly worked eighteen hours a day.
But he remembered Mr. Bartlet’s desperate expression, the wan faces of his bairns . . .
How ridiculous for Alex to be dithering, worried that luxury would be too difficult a burden while others starved.
He was being a selfish bastard.
Thathad to be what was driving his anxious tick—a strong desire to race from the glaring light of Reality facing him—
He was likely going to have to assume the marquisate.
He just couldn’t reconcile himself with the idea quite yet. With driving that final nail in the coffin of any possible romantic relationship with Lady Charlotte.
Alex looked at Rafe. “Ye tease me that I am competitive, and yes, I was raised a gentleman. But that doesnae mean I understand how to be a lord.”
“There’s not much tae it,” Andrew ventured, sitting back down with the now sleeping Isolde. “Ye just have tae practice giving weighted stares and making demands in a loud voice.”
Alex smiled despite himself.
“Take on the marquisate,” Rafe urged. “Address all its ills personally.”
Alex swallowed, rubbing fingertips into his forehead. “If I do, Lady Charlotte will never forgive me for disinheriting Master Freddie and usurping her father’s final request.”
That was the bald, plain truth.
“Ah.” Ewan fixed him with a long look. “So in accepting the marquisate, ye would be giving up two loves of your life—medicine and Lady Charlotte.”
This was the problem with Ewan. His gentle heart always saw and heard more than one intended.
Alex swallowed and looked away.
Yes, he wanted to say.
But that fidgety fear closed off his throat, and he couldn’t force that one simple word out of his mouth.
23
Lottie slowly fanned her face.
Voices hummed around her.
Crystal clinked. Silk rustled.
