The very thought of subjecting himself to such noise and tumult sent Fox’s stomach to knotting. Not to mention, the hours in a saddle traversing the long miles down the glen into civilization. His body ached at the thought.
He would rather continue to dine upon gray chicken and soggy cucumber sandwiches than subject himself to such torture.
Was it possible to simply bypass courting formalities and move straight to a comfortable marriage? After all, did it matter how well a gentleman and lady were acquainted at the dawn of their marriage?
Fox had known the last woman he proposed marriage to for years and had loved her with ferocious intensity. Such familiarity and passion hadn’t made a bloody bit of difference in the end. It had only ensured that her eventual betrayal inflicted a wound both as cruel as it was deep.
No.
Wouldn’t it be better to enter a marriage with his eyes open and his heart, what remained of it, unattached?
He sighed.
Hadley would say such thoughts were rash and foolhardy.
Like the decision to take his suit to the Court of Arches. To demand that Madeline remain with him while he fought to restore her standing in the world. To purchase this castle far away from prying eyes and human bustle.
Perhaps those decisions had been somewhat brash, but Fox regretted none—
Plink. Plink. Plink.
A faint dripping sound reverberated like a gong.
With yet another sigh, Fox heaved out of his chair, reaching for his walking stick. He generally didn’t need it, but the first few steps when rising could be perilous, particularly after a bottle of wine. He staggered a few steps to the right, the stick barely keeping him upright.
Mmmm, perhaps he was drunker than he thought.
Bending to light a candle from the hearth, he tracked the drip down to the wee round turret in the north corner of the library. Raindrops merrily splashed their way onto the worn rug.
Plink. Plink.
He looked up at the ceiling. Water drops assembled on the plaster in orderly rows, each waiting to join its brethren in despoiling his library.
Fox fetched an empty vase from a side table and placed it under the drip, staring at the whole scene as if it were a personal affront.
Well . . . itwasa personal affront.
His mood was akin to the leaky roof—disintegrating, porous, and prone to cracking.
Something had to be done to fix both himself and this derelict castle.
Hadley was right.
Foxdidneed a wife.
Only one question remained:
How would he go about acquiring one?
3
Captain Fox Carnegie was in the front parlor of Thistle Muir.
Leah stood on the upstairs landing, hand pressed to her stomach.
Breathe, Leah Penn-Leith. Just breathe in some air.
“He appears a fine gentleman,” Aileen was saying, placing a concerned hand on Leah’s elbow.
